In the struggle for a better world, setbacks are inevitable. Defeat can feel overwhelming at times, but it has to be endured. How then do the people on the front line keep going? To answer that question, Hannah Proctor draws on historical resources to find out how revolutionaries and activists of the past kept a grip on hope.
Burnout considers despairing former Communards exiled to a penal colony in the South Pacific; exhausted Bolsheviks recuperating in sanatoria in the aftermath of the October Revolution; an ex-militant on the analyst's couch relating dreams of ruined landscapes; Chinese peasants engaging in self-criticism sessions; a political organiser seeking advice from a spiritual healer; civil rights movement activists battling weariness; and a group of feminists padding a room with mattresses to scream about the patriarchy. Jettisoning self-help narratives and individualizing therapy talk, Proctor offers a different way forward - neither denial nor despair. Her cogent exploration of the ways militants have made sense of their own burnout demonstrates that it is possible to mourn and organise at once, and to do both without compromise.
This book doesn’t so much set out to answer the questions of emotional experiences in the politics of the left as it does focus on letting us sit with them - which could arguably be a more profound examination. The works cited in this are worth the price of the book for anyone wanting to think and write and talk about these topics.
in so many ways this book is a phenomenal contribution. Proctor's writing is fantastic -- a traffic between personal and political, and between readings/vignettes and theory. The archive assembled (including movement, film, fiction) is for the most part fantastic, with only the readings of Combahee River Collective and the Romance of American Communism sticking out as somewhat played. At every turn, Proctor is asking the right questions about the fraught relationship between psychic/emotional experience and the attempt to radically transform our social worlds.
all that said, i'm not sure Proctor ends up answering the questions posed, which at times left me frustrated and wanting more. at the level of the book's conception, there were some odd decisions. There are 8 chapters that each address a sort of affect: melancholia, nostalgia, depression, burnout, exhaustion, bitterness, trauma, and mourning. but Burnout--the title of the book and perhaps the most important, unique, and vexing of these--is the second shortest chapter, at a scant 13 pages (only less page space is devoted to melancholia, which Proctor wants to move quickly past [could have even included more from this great review https://www.radicalphilosophy.com/rev...]). the exploration of maoist criticism/self-criticism in "bitterness" gets twice as much page space even though it is, i'd argue, less historically relevant to the present. it's a fantastic book, and its contribution is in part a matter of (re)inventing a genre of materialist psychiatry for the present. but that project (of interpretation) is surely unfinished, and so this book is more of an opening crack at asking the right questions.
It's midnight and I'm too tired to express all my thoughts about this book. I teared up several times. It doesn't provide easy answers - answers at all, really. But I think it helped me to read it all the same.
As another review puts it, "this book doesn’t so much set out to answer the questions of emotional experiences in the politics of the left as it does focus on letting us sit with them", and while I can maybe? see the value in that, it wasn't really what I was wanting or hoping for from this book. Writing definitely leans towards the academic, which meant the prose was often quite dry and a bit dense. Combined with the fact that the subject matter was pretty depressing, this just wasn't an enjoyable read. Maybe if I'd gone into the book knowing that it is essentially just a collection of experiences and impacts of various defeated movements on the left without any sort of real takeaways or analysis, I might have been less disappointed. But then again, that just wouldn't really be a book I'm interested in reading. Clearly there is an audience here, but I'm not it.
Is this a really interesting and informative book? Yes. Does it accomplish what it sets out to do, namely, to "offer(s) a different way forward - neither denial nor despair" when political defeat is upon those who struggled so hard to accomplish it? No.
For all the insight this book offers, by sampling a plurality of perspectives across time and space, all dealing with the emotional toll of seeing tyranny triumph- again and again- despite people's best efforts, and how the struggle implodes onto itself by deeply hurting those involved, the approach is somewhat alienating. This because of the heavily mediated way in which virtually everything is presented.
By this I mean that typically, we will be presented with excerpts from those at the front of several social justice movements, then with the commentaries of one or more scholars/authors/psychoanalysts and the like- at times even contrasted and compared- followed by the author's own commentary on the original excerpts and to the commentaries. This results in several layers of reference, all highly embroiled in very specific vocabulary, nitpicked to exhaustion.
To make it even more distancing, most readers will not even be familiar with any of the cited works, at any of the levels of discretion, so that they are thrown into a loop of what feels too disparate. Grasping nuance on commentaries to the commentaries is really inside baseball. This is part of a deeper and more structural issue, namely, the taking for granted that the language, themes, events and overall political background that the author is clearly extremely conversant with, will be known to the average reader. It is probably not accidental that those who proofread the book in its embryonic stages were also thinkers of Leftist ideology and not the people on the street, of which so much is written about here.
Despite being ostensibly aimed at everyone who is involved in political struggle, it reads as a kind of academic work to be presented to peers. Do you know, off the top of your head, what a "Communard" is? How about the many revolts that took place in 19th century France, can you tell the Commune of the 70's and the movements of the 30's apart? Do you know about the intricacies of social movements in the US, how they evolved from the 60's to 70's? Can you tell, in this context, what is "Old Left" as opposed to "New Left"? Does "The Black Arts Movement" mean anything to you?
While some of these and other related matters do get somewhat explained, that they are textually made available to the reader in a dense, interconnected and highly specified Leftist speak- that even most leftists will have a hard time following- obscures much of what the book is trying to say. Perhaps the most grievous example is how "political" is used across the aboard. The politicizing of virtually everything is a core feature of the Left, to the point the author mentions that it is, by now, something of a cliché, what this actually means is not made explicit. It is assumed that you, who pick up this book, will just know- perhaps, if you did not, you would not have picked it up in the first place?- and even as jargon is exposed as such, the book is so mired in it that it limits its appeal considerably. When "consciousness raising" is just something you are supposed to understand, you know the actual target readership is more on the narrow side.
It is extremely rewarding to learn about organizations one had never heard of before, to be made aware that fights that seem very recent in the public sphere have, in fact, been a lifetime commitment to many for decades on end (although that can be depressing in its own right) but when you are told of the "Combahee River Collective" at the start of a section, and then it is always referred to as "CRC", it becomes more difficult than it need be to even know what it even is. On a more elemental level, most people have but the vaguest idea of what a "Collective" even is and a quick summation would have gone a good way into clarifying a text that deals with such ambiguity and hard to pin down concepts.
Credit where credit is due, there is an amount of research involved that the short format belies. Hannah Proctor's curated snippets from defeated revolutionaries are the product of a massive, intensive and admirable amount of work- both quantitively and qualitatively- and she has thought deep and hard in order to convey her thesis. That she was so personally involved in the process and offers actual insight from her own lived experience gives the book a poignancy that you do not always find. I often found myself contemplating my own ignorance and lack of activism, especially as she is one year younger.
She tenaciously investigates and links several points regarding the emotional experience of defeat, goes into the inner mechanics of political organizing including the interpersonal, proposing "anti-adaptative healing", by which is meant a series of therapeutics- mostly of the non-medical kind- that do not expect the subject to conform to society's ills but prepares them for a better world, with as few compromises as possible, as an effective way of working toward genuine improvement of the individual and the collectivity. Her interest in the connection between these two poles, the person as is and groups as they are- and should be- along with her understanding that changing a person, on a deep level, takes time and that it cannot match the speed with which political change must be pushed for accounts for fallible human beings whose blunders are part and parcel of the process as opposed to the "perfect" revolutionary who has the Lingo the Jour down pat.
This is probably one of the most relevant elements in this book. Proctor's perspective is historical, to look into the past in order to gain a better handle on the present and change the future, so she deals in events pertaining both to history proper, like the Commune, and to their role in Leftism mythmaking imaginary, with notions about the Commune across time, leaving not much space for actual contemporary events. These do feature, with the reaction to George Floyd's murder, but are not the core.
The cannibalizing of the Left, which is nothing new, remains still a problem and Proctor draws attention to it. Movements tend to splinter into increasingly smaller and less influential sub-movements that fall apart completely once pressure from outside increased. Puritanical gatekeeping is fierce and before long, the only "true" Leftist is whoever has the word at the moment.
Ultimately, I can't say "it is a book addressed to burn-out-comrades- past, present, future" but it can still be appreciated even if you are not conversant with the vocabulary and modes of expression of the Academic Left, even if, to borrow Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick's (one of the authors quoted in Burnout) this book is "not pellucid".
Enjoyed this but think it struggled to find its identity at points, straddling the boundary between academic disquisition and readable political prose. There was a lot of signposting, which I guess can be useful for lisibilité, but it read a little like a PhD thesis/journal article. It’s not necessarily that there’s a problem with that, but more that it didn’t work when it was coupled with a lack of an overview of the wider literature; for instance, I would have liked to have seen the author engage more directly with the iciness between various Marxisms and psychoanalysis, and perhaps a nod to the fact that psychoanalysis was intended only as a diagnostic tool, not a means of healing, in its initial conception (which might perhaps explain why it’s sometimes accused of lacking political conviction). I was also surprised to see no engagement with affect theory or theories of emotion considering the focus of the book. Despite explicit attempts to avoid doing so, it seemed to take for granted the 'inside-out' model of emotions (i.e., the idea that emotions are held within us and then move 'out' towards the world/others, maybe even coming back to us), instead of engaging with alternative conceptions (e.g., Ahmed's notion of emotions not as psychological states but as socially and culturally produced, especially as she draws on both psychonanalysis and Marx to make her argument about the circulation of objects of emotion).
That said, there were aspects of it I thought were excellent, especially in Part III. I loved the chapter on the feminist consciousness-raising groups as that’s an area I’ve been working on recently (how do we salvage ‘the personal is political’ from liberal usage and maintain its potential as a tool of radical analysis/action?). I was sad to find out Carol Hanisch is heading into TERF territory, but I thought this chapter and the book at large pointed to how social change and transformation are not linear, but dialectical - so perhaps it’s not so surprising that positive advancements (for the women’s movement, for instance) might see their antithesis arise from the friction, which helps us to problematise the idea of ‘political defeat’ in different ways that might help us to sidestep so-called ‘burnout’. I also really enjoyed the chapter on Chile; Guzmán is one of my favourite filmmakers and I wrote an undergraduate dissertation many moons ago on the poetry of Zúrita, I thought the author represented them in a really intelligent way. The final chapter of militancy and mournfulness was excellent and the perfect close to the book.
“psychological experiences require patience while so much in the world demands urgency”
“socially inflicted wounds cannot fully heal in the absence of changed social conditions”
had to read this for my american studies class and i liked how much psychological stuff was in it as a psych major. those two quotes were so amazing to me. otherwise, it was a little boring for me and i fear it was probably bc i felt forced to read it
was hyped for this but gotten less out of it than I wanted. a bit too many different anecdotes and not really zooming in enough. good chapter on burnout tho
Την τελευταία φορά που πήγα στο Λονδίνο, έπεσα πάνω σε αυτό το βιβλίο που κυκλοφόρησε πρόσφατα. Burnout: τίτλος με ιδιαίτερη σημασία για μένα, καθώς προσδιορίζει μια ολόκληρη γενιά, αυτή των millennials. Μετά όμως κοίταξα τον υπότιτλο του: the emotional experience of political defeat. Εκεί είπα πως αυτό το βιβλίο έχει να πει κάτι παραπάνω, κάτι που μέχρι στιγμής παραμένει αθέατο. Θέλει να μιλήσει για τις εμπειρίες που έχουμε με την ψυχολογική διαχείριση της πολιτικής ήττας.
Η Proctor, αν και κάνει έρευνα δευτερευόντων πηγών διανθισμένη με τις προσωπικές της εμπλοκές στην πολιτική, παραθέτει τα συναισθηματικά απόνερα επαναστάσεων, κινημάτων, διαμαρτυριών είτε γνώρισαν επιτυχία, είτε όχι. Burnout, διαχείριση της απώλειας, τραύμα, πένθος, εξάντληση, μελαγχολία ακόμη και πικρία για το ατελέσφορο ορισμένων παραδειγμάτων είναι οι θεματικές πάνω στις οποίες γράφει η Proctor, με στόχο να αναδείξει τις επιπτώσεις στην ίδια την ψυχολογία των ανθρώπων.
Ταυτόχρονα όμως αναδεικνύει μια παραγνωρισμένη διάσταση. Αν οι πολιτικές δράσεις είναι επιτυχημένες μένουμε στο νικηφόρο αποτέλεσμα, κάνεις όμως δεν μας είπε πόσο σωματικά, ψυχολογικά και πνευματικά εξαντλημένοι ήταν οι Μπολσεβίκοι στην Οκτωβριανή επανάσταση, η πως διαχειρίστηκαν οι Βιετναμέζοι το πένθος στη χώρα τους μετά το πόλεμο του Βιετνάμ. Αν δεν είναι επιτυχημένες, πάλι παραγνωρίζουμε την συναισθηματική διάσταση της κατάρρευση των βεβαιοτητων για ένα καλύτερο αύριο που δεν θα έρθει ποτέ. Το παράδειγμα εδώ της παρισινής κομμούνας είναι ενδεικτικό, όπως και η ήττα των Εργατικών του Τζέρεμι Κορμπιν το 2019.
Πως διαχειρίζεται κάνεις διαρκείς ήττες; Ήττες σκοπών, ονείρων προγραμμάτων για ένα καλύτερο αύριο; Άμεσες απαντήσεις δεν υπάρχουν. Η Proctor όμως εμμένει στη ανάγκη της προσπάθειας που πρέπει να καταβάλουμε. There is a time for mourning and a time for organising. Και εκεί νομίζω εδρεύει η σημασία του βιβλίου, ενός από τα πιο σημαντικά που διάβασα φέτος.
Προσπάθησα να κάνω αναλογίες με την ελληνική πραγματικότητα. Ήττα μετά από ήττα μετά από διάψευση βεβαιοτητων. Αν ψαχτουμε, ποιός ξέρει τι συναισθήματικα κατάλοιπα θα βρούμε.
Can we mourn and organise? Can we maintain our tenderness and stiffen ourselves enough to withstand the forces of capital? Burnout by Hannah Proctor asks these questions as it sets out to approach the contradictory nature of both the urgency we feel in addressing social and political issues as well as the patience required to undergo significant emotional change, whether that be processing anger, burnout, exhaustion or grief. Proctor urges a type of "anti-adaptive healing" where mental wellbeing does not simply involve adapting to the socio-political conditions that make many of us sick, but instead healing through organisation, community and political action that strives to make the world a better place.
I was particularly struck by an account of an agoraphobic woman who had not left her house in 13 years. Despite undergoing psychological and psychiatric care, these symptoms and feelings had rarely abated, but it was the political necessity of, and the accompanying solidarity with others during the miners strike that provided the context, support and meaning to re-enter social life.
Proctor's book is meditative, and provides example of the issues others have faced and the solutions some have found when nursing political defeat. Brilliantly weaving together psychoanalytic, feminist and Marxist critiques, Proctor's book reminds us of the light at the end of the tunnel that may not always be visible, and lessons in how to cope and fight on when it feels extinguished. It's a reminder that on the left, that love and compassion for our comrades, for humanity, for the planet and for ourselves is not a decadent luxury that must be stifled to undergo political change, but an absolute necessity and the very reason for that change.
Recommend this to anyone whether they are hopeful or despondent about the current landscape.
around a month ago i spent the week sobbing in bed w this book by my side. i read a lot of it, then stopped for a bit, then just finished. i've never read an academic book like this, open and meandering while being clear and committed. rather than answering the impossible question of "how to maintain hope in the face of despair" that is on the back jacket (in fact in the afterword, she refuses to offer platitudes about hope), this book explores different ways political commitment can be psychically damaging and just tries to take seriously that this happens without figuring things out. it's beautiful - the writing, the quotes from history and literature - and hard to metabolize. so some random takeaways:
i felt most seen by the depression and bitterness chapters. i was struck by the description of depression as something that separates you from your social world, even if it's caused by your surroundings. i didn't expect bitterness to be about criticism/self criticism but... makes sense. how do you answer the question of how much internal alignment is needed to advance external goals?? i was so moved by the trauma chapter - the cosmic scale!!! it felt like a thread throughout the whole book was situating yourself in some lineage rather than hope, something that "opens out from the material constraints of the present to vibrate with possibility"
i feel better, which sometimes feels bad, healing in an "adaptive" rather than "anti-adaptive" way. when the afterword made me burst into tears just now, that felt special
An enjoyable if inconsistent read that aimed to capture the historical specificity of particular concepts for describing psychic life, including melancholia, depression, exhaustion, and trauma among others
I particularly enjoyed the chapter on bitterness that examined practices and theories of subjective transformation that emerged from political movements, bearing in mind that people are formed by their experiences in this unjust world (racism, sexism, ableism, homophobia, transphobia, class divisions etc.) are likely to find it difficult to act as if they were formed by a different one, but rejecting the possibility of individual transformation is tantamount to claiming that all social transformation is impossible The author's retelling and analysis of Hinton's classic - Fanshen was also interesting in sharing the common question of how to struggle and unite simultaneously, that is how to fight while healing? Drawing from Hinton and Calvert, effective organising relied on discussing individual issues to help identify their social underpinnings, which could then form the basis for collective political action The same can be said of Gornick's The Romance of American Communism in which the author identifies Gornick's common contradiction that people who felt so deeply driven that they devoted themselves to a moral cause on behalf of strangers nonetheless bullied their closest friends, such that people committed to humanity behaved inhumanely, people intellectually opposed to discussions of psychic life were as a result overpowered by their emotions
Not the book I thought it was going to be. It is mostly a HISTORY of the emotional experience of political defeat. That is interesting but as she says in her closing, she is not about giving hope or providing any lesson from the past. The best that one can hope for and be motivated by is the struggle itself and disappointment is guaranteed. I think the book would have been more effective (and I could have possibly recommended it to others) if it was not written in such an extreme academic prose. I can get thru it, having an advanced degree in the Humanities, but did I want to, no. I recommend the Introduction, there are some great quotes and comments throughout the book, but a lot of history to get to them. I read this book the week before the 2024 election and find little solace in other's political defeat.
An interesting read - proved to contend with a lot more of the history of psychology and psychoanalysis than I expected, but Proctor effectively placed the various maladies organizers and revolutionaries contend with within their histories (both in the established Western medical canon and in more subversive ideas of treatment & illness). My penchant for desiring outlined conclusions brushed up against a book that presented a lot of experiences and ideas in conversation without overly judging victors or correctness, but I still found a lot of value and utility in a book that fills a major gap. We (the left) need to contend with the psychological impacts of our world and our movement work without falling into simplified conclusions and straight answers.
Read this for my book group—two union organizers and two academics. I liked it the most of the bunch. I saw my experiences in organizing and in my current malaise reflected back at me. Some didn’t like her meandering approach that didn’t quite connect narratives—I didn’t mind it. I think more than constructing a cohesive narrative, Proctor was trying to build an archive of the side of radical history—the psychic side—that gets smoothed over in pat, nostalgia-tinged narratives of righteous struggle and devastating defeat.
There’s places here where the psychological reading of movements detracts from the reality of them, eg the June Days in Brazil being ‘sites of mourning’ ‘without leaders,’ and I’m not *quite* sure what I take from it other than that revolutionary praxis is one of breaking yourself, your heart and others again and again, and continuing to ‘fight absolutely’ (the Mike Davis line she ends the book with) but it was full of fascinating vignettes about the place of psychological life in political movements.
More an academic cataloging of emotional experiences of political defeat and that is it? That rant in the Afterword, where she goes on about how she doesnt know why she wrote this book - I agree. You can tell reading this. Even if Proctor is not going to offer us answers, she could have at least provided a cataloging of strategies on how despair has been held by communities, healers, and people participating in the struggle. Burnout reads like the musings of a sad white girl depressed alone in her bedroom.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
A good book for activists to reflect on the road ahead, its bumps, and side roads. It is not a how-to with a check list. Instead it tells of how others have dealt with euphoria, defeat, mourning, hope and hopelessness, the blind spots, the harm and violence from outside and inside. We have been here before, but we are still here.
this is a fantastic book—I’ve been hoping to read something like this for a long time. Proctor marshals a remarkable range of sources to help us think through revolutionary despair, and how to heal in a way that does not adapt to oppressive conditions of normality. absolutely brilliant.
Really loved this to explore the affective dimension of left movements and the feelings of ecstasy and despair. Such great historical, literary, and psychoanalytic references throughout, tied with personal experience ❤️
3.5 - i was honestly disappointed by this. while it was definitely interesting and i learned some cool tidbits of history, it didn’t feel very instructive. i was hoping for a more impactful and strong takeaway, and felt like this book just didn’t reach a meaningful conclusion for me.
The books had me reflecting on all my experiences of activism and everything we’re lacking in movements today. Definitions of burnout vary so much and this really showed me how much these have been co-opted