Larry Alan Busk

This article reconsiders Hannah Arendt’s account of “totalitarianism” in light of the climate catastrophe and the apparent inability of our political-economic system to respond to it adequately. In the last two chapters of The Origins of Totalitarianism, Arendt focuses on the “ideology” of totalitarian regimes: a pathological denial of reality, a privileging of the ideological system over empirical evidence, and a simultaneous feeling of total impotence and total omnipotence—an analysis that maps remarkably well onto the climate zeitgeist. Thus, while Arendt used the concept of “totalitarianism” to foreclose alternatives to liberal capitalist democracy, the climate impasse suggests that the totalitarian label more properly belongs to the prevailing system itself.

This essay considers the catastrophe of anthropogenic climate change in relation to two possible critical-theoretic dispositions. The first, represented by an emblematic passage from Adorno, retains the hope for the realization of a “rational society.” The second, represented by a complementary passage from Foucault, enjoins critical theory to abandon any ambition toward criticizing or transforming society at a totalizing level. We argue that the unfolding climate catastrophe demands a conception of critical theory more in line with the first disposition, and that the relevance of the skeptical disposition is likewise seriously undermined if climate change is taken into account.

In various places today we encounter a veritable cult of happiness, a socially mandated optimism, and a pathologization of persistent negativity or reluctance to participate as sickness to be treated. In this essay, I develop a critical perspective on this system of hegemonic happiness through an engagement with the thought of Adorno. It acts, I argue, as ideology in his sense of the term. After situating the discussion in the context of the broader philosophical project of Negative Dialectics, I elaborate the sustained critique of “the doctrine of inner health” laid out in Minima Moralia. Then, as an expansion and update of this critique, I consider in more detail the prevailing form of the inner health discourse—what I will call “the happiness machine.” As a brief excursus into popular culture, I read an episode of The Twilight Zone as an apologue for this ideological mechanism and its functioning. Finally, I suggest a way of articulating refusal of the happiness machine rooted in Adorno’s conception of resistance.

This paper considers the radical democratic theory of Chantal Mouffe and Ernesto Laclau with reference to the recent rise of Right-wing populism. I argue that even as Mouffe and Laclau develop a critical political ontology that regards democracy as an end in itself, they simultaneously exclude certain elements of the demos. In other words, they appeal to formal categories but decide the political content in advance, disqualifying Right-wing movements and discourses without justification. This ambivalence between form and content reveals the limits of Mouffe and Laclau’s brand of radical democracy for understanding and critiquing the present political conjuncture.

This paper connects Merleau-Ponty’s conception of chiasm with his philosophy of history. I argue that history gives us an exemplary form of a chiastic relation and that Merleau-Ponty presages his later ontology of flesh when he investigates the paradox of thinking history. In brief, the paradox is this: history takes on significance only in light of a given reflection on it. At the same time, “the given reflection” is overlaid and shot through with historical meaning and is nothing but the result of a historical inheritance. I claim that, for Merleau-Ponty, to think history is to think that which is external to oneself and that which one is, in a deferred simultaneity or “circularity” that can be called chiastic.

This article considers Sartre's perspective on political violence with reference to his 1948 play _Dirty Hands_. Focusing on the concrete political questions that confronted Sartre in his context, it traces the development and result of conversations with Merleau-Ponty, Camus and the Marxist tradition that shaped his thinking on this subject. At the end of this dialectical process, Sartre arrived at a position that refused both bourgeois humanism, with its disavowal of political violence, and what is here termed Official Communism – the prevailing Manichean politics of his day and the institutionalized repression that went along with it. In other words, he affirmed the violence of the political without by that token affirming the politics of violence. It is argued here that these conversations and this conclusion are dramatically illustrated in Dirty Hands

The problem of the transcendental has haunted philosophy for some time now. How can we think that which is external to our thought without by that token assimilating it to our thought? In other words, how can we speak of the outside without by that very gesture bringing it inside? While this conversation spun its complex tapestry over centuries, there developed alongside various attempts to dismiss or deflate the problem altogether. The most recent manifestation of this deflationary tendency is the “speculative materialism” movement, represented with most clarity by Quentin Meillassoux in his 2006 work After Finitude. He attempts here to restore “the Great Outdoors” to a philosophical tradition mired in what he calls “correlationism,” which he characterizes as a kind of narcissism. So the present conjuncture seems to offer us a choice between the subjective transcendental cellar and the wilderness of speculative materialism. In this essay, we articulate an alternative to this choice rooted in readings of Merleau-Ponty and Deleuze. Our intent here is not to compare or contrast their bodies of work as wholes, but to trace a distinct philosophical maneuver that is not only common to the two thinkers but reveals a link between them. Rather than annulling the transcendental question, these figures encourage us to reverse it, and ask instead “how can we think the inside without by that very token bringing it outside?” This provides us with a response to the problem of philosophy’s narcissism without recourse to Meillassoux’s “speculative” solution.Le problème du transcendantal a hanté la philosophie depuis un bon moment à présent. Comment pouvons-nous penser ce qui est externe à notre pensée sans l’assimiler par là même à notre pensée? En d’autres termes, comment parler du dehors sans l’amener par ce geste même à l’intérieur? Alors que ce débat a tissé sa toile complexe à travers les siècles, plusieurs tentatives se sont développées pour rejeter ou désamorcer le problème. La manifestation la plus récente de cette dernière tendance est le mouvement du « matérialisme spéculatif » représenté avec le plus de clarté par Quentin Meillassoux dans son oeuvre de 2006, Après la finitude. Il tente dans ce livre de restaurer le « Grand Dehors » dans une tradition philosophique enlisée dans ce qu’il appelle « corrélationnisme », qu’il caractérise comme une forme de narcissisme. Ainsi, la conjoncture actuelle semble donner le choix entre une cave transcendantale subjective et la nature sauvage du matérialisme spéculatif. Dans cet essai, nous articulons une alternative enracinée dans des lectures de Merleau-Ponty et de Deleuze. Notre intention n’est pas de comparer ou de contraster leurs oeuvres prises globalement, mais de tracer une manoeuvre philosophique distincte qui est non seulement commune aux deux penseurs, mais qui révèle un lien entre eux. Plutôt que d’annuler la question transcendantale, ces figures nous encouragent à la renverser et à poser la question à la place : comment pouvons-nous penser l’intérieur sans l’amener par là même vers le dehors? Cela nous fournit une réponse au problème du narcissisme de la philosophie sans recourir à la solution « spéculative » de Meillassoux.Il problema del trascendentale occupa la filosofia ormai da tempo. Come possiamo afferrare con il pensiero qualcosa di esterno al nostro pensiero, senza con questo assimilarlo a esso? In altri termini, come possiamo parlare dell’esterno senza per ciò stesso portarlo all’interno? Mentre questa riflessione intrecciava le proprie complesse fila lungo i secoli, prendevano forma per via collaterale diversi tentativi di sopprimere o ridimensionare il problema che l’aveva originata. La manifestazione più recente di questa tendenza coincide con il movimento del “materialismo speculativo”, rappresentato nel modo più emblematico da Quentin Meillassoux con il suo saggio Après la finitude, pubblicato nel 2006. In questo saggio, l’autore tenta di restituire “il Grande Fuori” a una tradizione filosofica invischiata in quello che egli definisce “correlazionismo” e che descrive come una sorta di narcisismo. La situazione attuale sembra così porci di fronte all’alternativa tra la chiusura angusta del trascendentale soggettivo e l’apertura incontrollata del materialismo speculativo. In questo articolo, sviluppiamo una proposta alternativa basata sulla lettura di Merleau-Ponty e di Deleuze. Il nostro intento non è quello di confrontare o contrapporre le opere dei due autori nel loro complesso, ma quello di evidenziare una precisa mossa filosofica che non solo li accomuna, ma li rivela come effettivamente connessi. Piuttosto che annullare l’interrogativo trascendentale, questi autori ci invitano a capovolgerlo, domandandosi invece: “Come possiamo afferrare con il pensiero l’interno senza per ciò stesso portarlo all’esterno?”. Questa mossa fornisce una risposta al problema del narcisismo della filosofia eludendo il ricorso alla soluzione “speculativa” di Meillassoux.

This paper analyzes two forms of “flight from freedom” embodied by characters in Beauvoir’s fiction, connecting these portrayals to the situation of women as described in The Second Sex as well as the discussion of social freedom in The Ethics of Ambiguity. The characters under consideration are Monique from the story “The Woman Destroyed” and Françoise from the novel She Came to Stay, who represent flight from freedom in related but distinct ways. My claim is that considering these two characters in conjunction allows us to see the two decisive moments of Beauvoir’s theory of authentic freedom in negative manifestations. Monique attempts to make herself into an object by abdicating her freedom, while Françoise takes herself for a sovereign subject and is unable to recognize the freedom of others.

This paper considers Carlin Romano's claim that the United States is "the most philosophical culture in the history of the world" alongside John Lysaker's contention that "American philosophy" is an oxymoron, given the imperial nature of American politics. I argue for Lysaker and against Romano, exploring how these two claims complement each other in a way that reveals something important about both. We are only able to understand the full import of Lysaker's perspective when we understand just how misguided Romano's is. Likewise, the problematic nature of the latter claim is only fully revealed by the veracity of the former. As a way of illustrating the point, I analyze two popular films, one from the McCarthy era ("My Son John") and one from 2014 ("God's Not Dead").

In Climate Leviathan, Mann and Wainwright address the political implications of climate change by theorizing four possible planetary futures: Climate Leviathan as capitalist planetary sovereignty, Climate Mao as non-capitalist planetary sovereignty, Climate Behemoth as capitalist non-planetary sovereignty, and Climate X as non-capitalist non-planetary sovereignty. The authors of the present article agree that the depth and scale of destabilizations induced by climate change cannot be navigated justly from within the present social-political-economic system. We disagree, however, on which of the non-capitalist orientations is better suited for generating viable alternatives to the worst dystopian futures. The article thus stages a debate to elucidate the theoretical and political divergence between Climate X and Climate Mao.

In this essay, I attempt to measure various prevailing democratic theories against an argument that Carl Schmitt advances in the first chapter of his ‘Crisis of Parliamentary Democracy’. In practice, he claims there, democratic politics is compelled to introduce a distinction between ‘the will of the people’ and the behaviour of the empirical people, thus justifying the bracketing and unlimited suspension of the latter in the name of the former, even to the point of dictatorship. I argue that no contemporary approach to democracy as a fundamental value is able to mount a compelling response to this critique and that we should therefore reconsider the status of democracy as a normative commitment. I proceed by carefully and closely reading Schmitt’s chapter and then by juxtaposing various currents of democratic theory (including liberal, deliberative, epistemic and various hybrids thereof) with the trajectory of Schmitt’s argument. This essay is therefore less of a contribution to Schmitt scholarship, in the sense that it does not take a panoramic view of his corpus to determine his final stance on democracy, and more of an intervention into contemporary democratic theory using Schmitt’s argument as a kind of lever.