"Over the past thirty years [add nine years since these words were written],
capitalist realism has successfully installed a 'business ontology'
in which it is simply obvious that everything in society, including
healthcare and education, should be run as a business. As any
number of radical theorists from Brecht through to Foucault and
Badiou have maintained, emancipatory politics must always
destroy the appearance of a 'natural order', must reveal what is
presented as necessary and inevitable to be a mere contingency,
just as it must make what was previously deemed to be impossible seem attainable. It is worth recalling that what is currently
called realistic was itself once 'impossible': the slew of privatizations that took place since the 1980s would have been
unthinkable only a decade earlier, and the current political-economic landscape (with unions in abeyance, utilities and
railways denationalized) could scarcely have been imagined in
1975. Conversely, what was once eminently possible is now
deemed unrealistic. 'Modernization', Badiou bitterly observes,
'is the name for a strict and servile definition of the possible.
These 'reforms' invariably aim at making impossible what used
to be practicable (for the largest number), and making profitable
(for the dominant oligarchy) what did not used to be so'." — Mark Fisher, Capitalist Realism
I think hard times are coming, when we will be wanting the voices of writers who can see alternatives to how we live now, and can see through our fear-stricken society and its obsessive technologies, to other ways of being. And even imagine some real grounds for hope. We will need writers who can remember freedom: poets, visionaries— the realists of a larger reality . Right now, I think we need writers who know the difference between production of a market commodity and the practice of an art. The profit motive is often in conflict with the aims of art. We live in capitalism. Its power seems inescapable; so did the divine right of kings. … Power can be resisted and changed by human beings; resistance and change often begin in art, and very often in our art—the art of words. I’ve had a long career and a good one, in good company, and here, at the end of it, I really don’t want to watch American literature get sold down the river. ... The name of our beautiful reward is ...
Comments