WISDOM SNIPPET #7
"Amusement under late capitalism is the prolongation of work."
Max Horkheimer & Theodor Adorno, Dialectic of Enlightenment, 1944
Gutter Philosophy
Platform Capitalism, Neoliberalism, Neo-Feudalism, Oligarchy, call it what you will. This fatal misunderstanding of economics, this war of the rich against everyone else, has turned everything to shit. Naturally, these junkies are after your money. They need it so they don't need to touch theirs. They need it to drown you in debt. They need it to constantly grease "Futures", "Hedge Funds" and "Derivatives", so their intrinsically volatile Ponzi scheme doesn't collapse. They not only gouge you on every motherfucking breath to keep you tied up in your hamster wheel, they also make you work for them in your free time and fuck up any joy there might be left:
"Wanna explore the beauty of the mountains? Or relax a day at the beach? Sign up here, we accept Apple Pay. And here's a picker for litter, so you can help us keep it clean."
"Wanna go bonkers at a great Rock'n'Roll show? Fine, but wait in line for the ticket lottery. And while you're at it, help us to improve our service."
Imagine you enjoy collecting trading cards. You like fashion. Art. Literature. Anything you can attribute a passion to, keeps you going, connected. Or, in the example above, enjoy some live music every once in a while. If they're any good, the tragedy of life is that they are scarce. By design, or by technical or personal limitations. Now our joy in indulging in these things has turned back on us and become a second job. To make things worse, it's also addictive. And while you're shackled in your first job by the need to finance your life and the expectations of society, in your second job the hunter-gatherer instinct within you is triggered by that same scarcity and the misleading promise of exceptionalism. Your peers keep you busy proving your trveness and competing for the largest, best, newest, whatever. So indeed you have to constantly prove your worth to yourself, your community, and the job market. Damn right this is labor.
But the rich aren't the only ones picking you clean. We're magpies: we hoard shiny things, peck at each other over who's got the shiniest, and gawk at whoever sits on the biggest pile. In any community, be it politics, religion, sport or music, there are countless ghouls who are only there to polish their gates. You're not well-read enough, not communist enough, not capitalist enough, not cash-hungry enough, not green enough, not underground enough, not mainstream enough. You simply never know enough to keep up with them. Late capitalism might be an accelerant, but "name three songs" punches your gut without an eviction notice. We like to eat our own kind. Instead of feasting on the 1%-ers, we cheer them on while they gnaw on our bones, cementing the rule of "die da oben" (those up there), forever stuck in our castes without even being aware of it.
I don't care if I'm qualified to dispute the Frankfurt School grandees, who impress by predicting the industrial level of self-organization and loot you need to score a PSA 10 1st Edition Charizard, tickets for your favorite band, or that fucking first press you so desperately crave, while they merely had stamps, coins or dead animals to collect. By constantly riffing on the ballad of "capitalism is the root of all evil" (capitalism being, according to Yanis Varoufakis, already dead anyway, but we're a species of slow realization), you lose sight of the real enemy: those power-hungry, soulless flunkies who twist and bend every rule, every decency, every bone in their body to burrow deep into the ass of the next honcho. Capital is just an extreme symptom of this pecking order. It's the Vampires of the Hierarchy, with their constant thirst for blood to heal the oozing sore in their gut lining, torn open by a lifetime of bowing and scraping, who drain every scene, every passion, every community, perfectly nourished under any form of government.
Don't let the gatekeepers get in your way. Don't let the vampires suck you dry and pale your skin into a canvas for their ugly shadow. Go out, create, collect, cook, color the world with your style. Find the peers you feel good with, and if there aren't any, DIY! Your life, your money, your passion. It's called passion, not forced labor.
"But Horkheimer said…" Yeah, right. That thought makes a perfect warning and yardstick for your agency. Other than that: you're not for sale. Moneymongers, the other magpies and vampires can fuck off, as long as you stay trve to yourself and your crew.
P.S. If I insulted your intelligence or completely misunderstood your heroes (because I actually haven't read them 😉), feel free to tell me in the comments.
