“Refugees,” says Slavoj Žižek, “are the price humanity is paying for the global economy.” They are a result of global inequalities, and slamming down the drawbridge will not help, for mass-migrations are an inevitable part of the future, especially as climate change begins to bite. However, opening the floodgates and letting large numbers of refugees into Europe is an equally futile response, and can only cause trouble; in the end, we won’t like them and they won’t like us. Better to understand that this is all the result of global class struggle, and engage with it. Half-measures will get us nowhere.
That’s the core message of this bleak little book. It’s a polemic that has virtually nothing optimistic or generous in its 25,000-odd words. But it does have some intriguing insights, and its central, Marxian, message of global class war makes alarming sense.
It’s fair to say Žižek doesn’t like liberals much. Early in his argument he condemns the hypocrisy he thinks is inherent in arguing for open borders for refugees. Everyone knows it won’t happen, because it would “trigger a populist revolt”, so advocating it is a self-indulgence of those who want to present themselves as “beautiful souls”. In the same vein, he argues against opening the doors to refugees for humane reasons, and insists that there are limits to human empathy. Do not pretend we can empathise with refugees, he says. And don’t expect them to be grateful to us for being rich. Žižek cites the New Year’s Eve 2015 disturbances in Cologne, when large numbers of women were assaulted, apparently by refugees. In a bizarre but interesting comparison, he then quotes a 1731 incident in Paris in which printers’ apprentices murdered cats because their master’s wife pampered them while they starved.
Neither has Žižek any time for those who are too polite about other people’s religions, including Islam. In this context he quotes the Rotherham child-abuse case, in which men of mainly Pakistani descent were found to have been sexually abusing and exploiting young girls over a period of many years, and the local authority had not intervened because (it is said) it was afraid of being seen as racist. He also draws on his background in psychoanalysis to argue that people of different cultures do not necessarily wish to live in proximity.
What all this is leading up to is Žižek’s central point: There is no point in pretending to like people who we don’t really want living next door to us. It’s a hypocritical liberal lie and in any case, it won’t solve the problem. The refugee crisis is a symptom of global class war. The rich world fuels conflict so that it can rob poorer countries of their natural resources, and refugees, Boko Haram and the rest are the result; what did we expect? It’s a fair comment. Žižek makes the interesting point that the Taliban takeover in the Swat valley in 2009 was at least in part a class-driven conflict against feudal landlords.
In the richer countries, Žižek’s sympathies are less with liberals than with lower-income groups of the sort who would oppose immigration or asylum. When Western liberals point the finger at working people in their own countries for being bigoted peasants, says Žižek, this is part of the “culture wars” fuelling movements such as Trump’s (he could have added Brexit in Britain, had he written the book a few months later). The “culture wars”, in his opinion, are themselves class conflict between the disadvantaged and a liberal elite that wishes to denigrate them to maintain its own position. I think he might be right. In this sense, class struggle underlies not only the movement of refugees but the response to them in their chosen countries of refuge. There is no “let them in” option, and no “keep them out” choice either. There is only one answer: To engage with the class struggle. This is a profoundly Marxian analysis, imbued with a visceral loathing for a hypocritical, self-interested “liberal” class that Žižek clearly wishes would go to hell.
While I accept Žižek’s analysis in principle, I did have some problems with this book. An underlying theme is that, sometimes, cultures are incompatible. Given that Žižek himself thinks future large-scale migrations are inevitable, I think that’s a dangerous message. We’re going to have to get used to each other. Moreover the evidence he presents is flawed. Rotherham is not a good example – it may have had as much to do with alienation and poor governance as it did with Islam or cultural difference. He also pushes a theory, based on the work of the French psychoanalyst Lacan, that we have a morbid distrust of the “other” and their customs that both attracts and repels, and causes tensions. I do not buy this. Has he never lived next door to someone whose habits are different? It’s not always so hard. Neither are humane impulses always a bad driver of policy, although Žižek is probably right that they can’t provide a stable world.
Moreover, while global conflict and forced migration is mostly the result of inequality and imperialism, there are other factors. The US and Britain invaded Iraq for several reasons, of which oil was only one. There was also messianic attachment to democracy, and a deluded belief that freedom would make Iraqis love Israel. Moreover, while the invasion helped open the gates of hell in neighbouring Syria, there had long been communal tensions there, and they had erupted before (I know this; I used to live there). Žižek might reply that these were the result of an arbitrary colonial division of the region in 1919 that put the borders in the wrong places. In the case of Iraq this holds water, but Syria is too complex ever to have been culturally homogenous. Elsewhere, Eritrean refugees are fleeing their own government as much as they are poverty.
Lastly, I did not feel that the arguments in the book were presented in a coherent sequence. For example, two early chapters deal with the obscene underbellies of religion, and the existence of undirected violence. They do not really feed into Žižek’s central argument and may have been culled from other work he has done. I wondered if he had felt that the refugee crisis was a golden opportunity to present a thesis of global class struggle, and put it together quickly. That’s not to say that Against the Double Blackmail is a bad read; it’s pithy and well-written. But it often lacks cohesion.
Western liberals do have some thinking to do. The “culture wars” do represent a class struggle with their own proletariat, and the different responses to the refugee crisis – “refugees welcome” hashtags on one side, Pegida on the other – has thrown this into sharp relief. And it is quite true that the current instability is a result of inequality, just as air masses of different temperatures create the weather. So a “humane” response to the refugee crisis will solve nothing. At the same time, humanity is not always a bad basis for policy, and empathy is not always the false emotion or tawdry hypocrisy that Žižek would have us believe. Besides, what would he do if he saw a Syrian or an Eritrean struggling in the water? Leave them to drown? I don’t suppose so.
This book does have something to say, and smug liberals should read it. But it is meant as a provocative polemic. We should all take it with a pinch of salt. And maybe Žižek wants us to.