In my book, The Cynical Society, published in 1991, I had a simple project. I sought to show that along with the manipulation and cynicism of contemporary politics and political reporting, there was ongoing real principled democratic debate in American society. I criticized one dimensional accounts of American society that saw the debate between Ronald Reagan and his opponents, for example, as being about his personality and theirs, the interests he served and they served, and the manipulative strategies of both sides. They didn’t recognize that fundamental issues in American public life were being debated, specifically about the role of the state in our economy. I worried that people who didn’t like the prevailing order of things confused their cynicism with criticism, and in the process resigned from offering alternatives. My posts this week were extensions of that project to our present circumstances.

I attempted to illuminate the ways in which Barack Obama’s Presidency was and still is about fundamental change in my first post, and I tried to illuminate the terrain of principled political debate in my second post, additionally accounting for Obama’s position. America is a cynical society, but it is also a democratic one. A rosy colored view is naïve, while an exclusively dark one is enervating. I insist on understanding both dimensions.

But as the host of Deliberately Considered, I am learning and expanding my understanding. My two dimensional picture is limited and conceals some important matters, specifically the emotional dimension. We should keep in mind that we don’t only act on principle and reason and pursue our interests with strategies that are sometimes manipulative. We also act out and upon our emotions, as James Jasper explored in his posts a couple of weeks ago, and Gary Alan Fine has analyzed as well. Indeed Richard Dienst’s “bonds of debt,” that Vince Carducci reports on, are more emotional than rational, highlighting the connection between attachment, indebtedness and power, making it so that breaking the bank is a good thing. This is an imaginative act, working on emotions, revealing alternatives. I have my concerns about such thinking, skeptical as I am about utopias, but I understand how they can work reasonably to illuminate and form the basis of criticism.

Vittorio Arrigoni

But there is a much darker side to emotional politics revealed in Benoit Challand’s post and the discussion which followed. Emotions and emotional dispositions are part of the explanation for the assassination of Vittorio Arrigoni and our reaction to it. Chiara questioned Benoit Challand’s account when it came to the assassins. His suggestion that Salafists were responsible was not convincing. She felt that those responsible for killing a pacifist must have an overpowering reason and noted that “as Kant reminds us, human beings are not devils.” Yet we received a reply from Gaza which answered her assertion, poignantly explaining“to kill you do not need a reason you need to lose one,” affirming that the killer may very well have been a Salafist.  Chaira confidently maintained that we will know the identity of the killers if we can discover who could not tolerate what he was saying and who benefited from his silence. And then in a reply quite untypical, for its brevity and certainty, on this blog, Inggaw declared “This is an Israel move.” The ungrammatical sentence suggests that this reply also may be from Gaza or the region.

Although press reports emanating from the Hamas authorities in Gaza do suggest that this was a Salafist operation, gone bad, I don’t think we can know for sure at this distance. What is noteworthy in terms of our theme of the week is that what people “know” is as much a product of their emotional state as a product of their reason, and that this is an important if difficult part of the political situation in Israel – Palestine. To overlook this dimension means to not understand it. This has been revealed in some earlier posts coming from the region and will be explored in the future.

Keiko Fujimori

This dark emotional dimension of politics may play a decisive role in the upcoming second round elections in Peru and was evident in the first round, Rafael Narvaez reported in his post this week. Keiko Fujimori, the daughter of a thief, her father, Alberto Fujimori, complicit in a regime of torture, may be elected, with a primary end of freeing her father from prison. She is not a rational choice, but one arising from a deep and dark emotional place. Narvaez speculates: “The Fujimoris of the world fit the almost Jungian image of the obscene, emasculating, and yet seductive father.” To ignore such emotional politics is to ignore the appeal and to turn away from confronting the horrors of authoritarians of all different sorts, archetypically from Hitler to Stalin. But clearly this is an emotional side that must be constrained and answered with alternatives.

Donald Trump

An assassination in Gaza and the possible return of a corrupt and brutal Peruvian regime, or at least the toleration of criminals associated with that regime, seems quite distant from New York, where I write this review. Yet, this dark side of politics clearly plays an important role here as well. How else can I explain Donald Trump’s remarkably high polling among potential Republican Presidential candidates, apparently at the top of the heap as he bizarrely escalates the attacks against Barack Obama, as the worst President in American history, an illegitimate office holder, born in Kenya? It seems to be a joke, but with public support emanating from an irrational emotional place, such jokes can become deadly.

The issue of debt, both public and private, has been a top news story ever since the financial collapse of 2008, but especially in recent weeks with all of the reporting on federal budget negotiations and the debt ceiling. (Another noteworthy item: The New York Times recently reported student loan debt has now exceeded credit card outstandings for the first time and is likely to top $1 trillion by the end of this year.) The problem cultural critic Richard Dienst claims in his new book The Bonds of Debt: Borrowing Against the Common Good (Verso: 2011) isn’t that debt levels are too high; it’s that they aren’t high enough.

A critical and literary theorist, Dienst expands the concept of debt from its purely economic connotation to include social reciprocity broadly understood. The “magic” of debt, Dienst asserts toward the end of the book, is that it ultimately constitutes a common good by binding us inextricably to one another. Debt as conceived under the capitalist system has in the current environment been revealed as an apparatus of capture that has reached its penultimate “terminal crisis” to use Giovanni Arrighi’s term, opening the door to new world-historical possibilities of social interdependence and human understanding.

Dienst begins by reviewing the ideas of several key theorists of late capitalism. From Robert Brenner he takes the notion of global capitalism as a system in perpetual turbulence. He places Brenner alongside Arrighi’s application of the Kondratiev Curve in the modern world-system analysis of the development of capitalism since the fifteenth century, which essentially tracks that turbulence at a macrolevel. He finds further complement with David Harvey’s recent books on neoliberalism that extend the primarily economic arguments of Brenner and Arrighi into the realm of politics and ideology. And as Dienst notes, the recent financial crisis came as no surprise to any of them.

The question Dienst raises is: If we agree that these thinkers have aptly described the circumstances that have brought us to our present state, then where do we go from here? As he looks to the horizon, Dienst observes: “All roads to the future lead through an immense pile of debt.” How to negotiate that terrain is the central problem.

Bono with George W. Bush, 2002 © Ron Edmunds | AP

As previously noted, Dienst is a cultural and literary theorist not an economist or other social scientist. His book doesn’t specifically examine the economic and social foundations of the credit system and its role as the obverse of modern mass production, the mechanism that allows demand to absorb excess capacity over time. Instead he analyzes media images – most notably, Bono’s 2002 photo op with George W. Bush on the issue of global poverty showing a solemn Bono giving the “V” sign and striding alongside Bush whose raised outstretched hand reads as both a greeting and an imperial salute – and other aspects of culture, such as retail display design, that constitute the spectacle mystifying the true relationships of power that keep debt under the control of the world’s haves and have-mores.

More pragmatic readers may find this path less than satisfactory. But in deconstructing the hegemonic representations of debt that have been deployed to promote austerity as the only viable solution, Dienst calls on the reader to consider what is truly owed by whom to whom. In this way debt becomes a medium for the expression of political consciousness. From this perspective, breaking the bank doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.