Challenging and brilliantly argued, eh?
The story goes something like this, and feel free to stop me if you’ve heard of this one before: sometime in the 20th century, everyone apparently stopped believing in anything, when hitherto they had believed in something. The Marxists had been having an identity crisis of their own thanks to the collapse of the socialist dream, and had been busy for the last decade or so inventing a new theory and practice of capitalism and how it might be overthrown, stumbling upon a new grand narrative in the process. The now post-Marxists have discovered a new entity known as oppression, and hoodwinked everyone into believing that it’s real! How have they done this? Well, a man named Foucault wrote some stuff about power, apparently, and then some other people wrote some other things, and then Judith Butler wrote some silly things that made no sense/meant nothing, and then some more people wrote more silly things that made no sense/meant nothing, and BAM! Now everyone is talking about these made up problems that didn’t exist until 5 minutes ago.
Utterly risible. A compilation of anecdotes, Christian-humanist ressentiment, Peterson-esque fearmongering, preposterous folk psychology, a healthy amount of cherry-picked articles and quotes from overzealous liberals, but a lack of any actual theoretical analysis beyond that which is typical of neocon grifters. For all his ranting about Foucault, there aren’t any extended discussions of his ideas or any useful dissection of his quotes; Butler is dispatched with a decontextualised paragraph about structuralism which supposedly demonstrates that everything she writes is incoherent, but only an illiterate can say that the following excerpt from Bodies That Matter is gobbledygook: “When, in Lacanian parlance, one is said to assume a ‘sex,’ the grammar of the phrase creates the expectation that there is a ‘one’ who, upon waking, looks up and deliberates in which ‘sex’ it will assume today, a grammar in which assumption is quickly assimilated to the notion of a highly reflective choice. But if this assumption is compelled by a regulatory apparatus of heterosexuality, one which reiterates itself through the forcible production of sex, then the assumption of sex is constrained from the start.” This passage may be tough going, especially to someone not used to Butler’s idiosyncratic style, but you’re having a laugh if you think it means nothing. And given Murray’s insistence that, when discussing supporters of “gay conversion therapy”, we ought not to act as if we can divine the hearts of these people to discuss the true intentions behind their words, it’s telling that he’s later willing to say that Butler writes in a difficult way to bewitch the reader into ignoring the vacuity of her argument. This is the divination he critiques, is it not? Especially when Butler is on record giving the perfectly intelligible (if dubious) explanation that the reason she writes the way she does is that “neither grammar nor style are politically neutral. Learning the rules that govern intelligible speech is an inculcation into normalised language, where the price of not conforming is the loss of intelligibility itself.”
At one point, Foucault is attacked for saying that societies are structured by “power” instead of “trust and tradition”, but the recognition of the importance of power is hardly limited to “postmodern neo-Marxists”. Carl Schmitt, before the rise of the Nazi regime, was describing the political as a topology divided into regions of friend and foe—the state, as sovereign, has the power to decide the exception, to subordinate the rest of society to it. A question for Murray’s dewey-eyed liberalism: where exactly did Black Americans fit into America’s trust-based, traditional, charitable society before segregation? (Or slavery for that matter?) Did they have much of a say in the terms of the social contract? And since they obviously didn’t, what exactly was shaping their political and social existence, if not power, concretised in the form of the state and its citizens?
Not that it matters terribly. The attempt to trace back all social justice discourse to the relatively obscure writings of a number of academics is something that timid pseudointellectuals do so that they don’t have to confront what is actually driving the “culture war”: perceived if not actual oppression due to statistical inequalities between groups and a number of interlocking cultural tropes that seem to articulate a wider structure behind these disparities. Nobody wakes up one morning, reads Žižek or Deleuze or Butler, and spontaneously decides they’re oppressed after all. If Murray had actually read the theorists he attempts to critique, he might see that many of them have already mapped his territory and come up with far better critiques without slipping into the sort of hand-wringing moralist trash that we’ve already seen in Nietzsche at his worst, or Kierkegaard, or even Socrates. It is not a question of critical theorists hoodwinking anyone. As Deleuze and Guattari say in Anti-Oedipus, if something is believed, if the masses come to a position on a matter, it is because their desire has invested a theoretical structure, it is because something latent has been awakened. Lyotard, a theorist who Murray happily cites at the opening of the text despite his being one of the supposedly incoherent crowd of French post-Marxists, makes a similar point in Libidinal Economy. Murray is not, in truth, necessarily an enemy of many of the philosophers he cites. He simply hasn’t read them properly, and follows in the steps of other right-wing grifters in parroting their ill-founded critiques.
Where Murray is agreeable, it is where he is making sensible critiques of zealous moralising, but even then, the mob behaviour of the modern revolution in values is nothing new, it is part of the structure of morality itself. What exactly else are people supposed to do when they perceive injustice? Stand idly by? Politely ask people to stop? Murray’s assertion that legal equality should have ended the movements of liberation is so silly it’s hard to think he believes it, and to be fair, even if he didn’t believe it he would still peddle this poorly-researched garbage for the money anyway. Murray attributes the so-called “new” political battlegrounds to the shadowy machinations of silicon valley tech companies and confused academics, but is it really so unlikely that the following is the case instead: in an age of instantaneous communication and the decentering of mass media institutions, previously underrepresented groups (people of colour; LGBT teens; etc.) are now able to spread and express critiques, opinions and ideas that previously would have gone unnoticed in isolation, and having found a common lexicon for their shared experiences and a wider platform to discuss them, brought awareness of their causes into the wider public consciousness? But Murray, for all his attempts to portray himself as reasonable and civil, never seems interested in empathising with or understanding his opponents. A boring book by a boring poser. At least Peterson has some alright self-help advice.