Month: November 2024

Ellul on the Void and the Wasteland

This entry is part 28 of 28 in the series Presence in the Modern World

So far in chapter 4 of Presence in the Modern World, “Communication,” Jacques Ellul hasn’t been talking about the stated topic so much as its complete absence.

Nobody understands each other. We talk past each other, not as the result of an earnest but frustrated attempt to communicate, but actually on purpose. That’s true of now, and it was true of the era in which Ellul wrote this book.

Ellul says that, up until the modern era, “the intellect” served as a bridge to connect people. But now this bridge has been destroyed, as we have seen in the last few posts. Intellectuals have surrendered to the constraints of technique, decided that nothing is absolute, and/or (just as nihilistically) chosen to accept as “real” beliefs that they know to be false, in order to maintain status.

In making those choices, the “intellectual” has essentially ceased existing, since it has always been the purpose of the intellectual to try to understand, and to communicate that understanding. But that sort of communication requires a minimum of unconsciously shared “true ideas, biases and values” and our civilization today no longer has any of those in common.

Certainly biases and shared ideas exist, but they no longer represent the civilization’s “deepest and most authentic expression.” Instead, they are merely the “myths and artificial ideas created by propaganda.”

Human beings are no longer free to encounter each other as individuals, but instead can see each other only through the prism of the myths they themselves have chosen to believe.

In other words: we judge everyone we meet based on where they fit in, or not, with our particular frame of reference. In 2024 America, that might involve you immediately sizing up someone you meet as a Trump supporter, or as a leftist — categories that only exist in your mind because they were created by propaganda, as part of a particular group’s shared mythology.

Ellul wrote (in 1948!):

“We are caught up in this increasingly greater abstraction that is occurring in relation not only to facts but also to human beings. We can no longer communicate with one another because our neighbors have ceased to be real to us. Intellectuals today no longer believe in the possibility of joining with others. They speak into the void and for the wasteland, or else they speak for the proletariat, the Nazi, the intellectual, and so on. People have never spoken so much about human beings while at the same time giving up speaking to them.”

There is no more speaking to human beings, Ellul says, because the human being doesn’t exist; there are only categories. But it is impossible to communicate with a category. You can only communicate with a human being.

Technique makes this sort of communication impossible, because technique demands result. “[Real] communication transcends technique,” Ellul writes, “because it cannot occur unless two interlocutors are completely engaged in real discussion.”

Modern intellectuals, including Christian intellectuals, instinctively understand the impossibility of their task and seek out new (“useless”) paths to reach people. For example, Ellul offers another quite prescient example, of thinkers and novelists who claim that humanity can only be found in extreme situations, such as war, concentration camps, and the like, even though this is obviously not helpful. “Such efforts do not get to the crux of the problem,” Ellul writes, “because they necessarily fall within a temporary, limited, and inconstant sphere.”

Of course, with enough spare time and cash, you can put yourself in an exceptional situation, from skydiving to mountain climbing to orbiting the earth, but this gets you no closer to your humanity than “feeling a rush.”

More likely, you can fritter away all that spare time issuing online demands that the entire civilization put itself in danger instead. Both left and right Twitter feeds, cable news networks, and podcasts are full of apocalyptic rants, spittle-flecked calls for vengeance and war (inside our own country, if not with others), grim proclamations of our opponents’ intent and gleeful fantasies of getting them first. There is little if any difference between these warnings of doom, and desire for it.

Ellul believes that this is further evidence of the world’s ongoing and unstoppable will toward suicide. People become habituated to the notion of death, he writes: “Suicide through pleasure or despair, intellectual or moral suicide — people then become ready for the total suicide that is slowly being readied and that will involve, body and soul, the entire world.”

In general, people fear the possibility of our own deaths, and even deny it altogether; we do not, despite the exhortations of motivational speakers and memes everywhere, “live today as if it were our last” because nobody wants to think about that.

But by accepting entertainment as an excuse for meaning, or embracing the despair of believing that there are enemies hell-bent on our personal destruction, we are readying ourselves for death and anticipating annihilation.

Ellul believes it is the Christian’s role to stand against this civilizational habituation to suicide, which is particularly dangerous because it is being fostered in an “invisible” way. In 1948, this meant that people were meeting each other, and developing these despairing tendencies, not in “bodily reality” but in “the postal system, railways, and television.”

Today, of course, those dangerously invisible exchanges are happening, not only or even especially on television, but on our phones, in our pockets — even on blogs like this one.

Ellul on the Death of Contemplation and Intuition

This entry is part 27 of 28 in the series Presence in the Modern World

So far in Chapter 4 of Presence in the Modern World, Ellul has shown us —

  • how modern citizens, inundated by a blizzard of facts and phenomena, create over-arching “explanatory myths” in order to make these phenomena somewhat coherent;
  • why Christian intellectuals should focus their work on how a transforming faith determines the ways in which one should interact with our externally-focused culture;
  • how other intellectuals and leaders, who know that the explanatory myths are not true, secure their own continued role in the culture by either choosing to treat this non-reality as if it were reality, or deciding that there is no such thing as reality at all.

Now we return to Ellul’s concept of technique, which we discussed earlier, and which he would go on to discuss further in numerous books (to the point that when his name is encountered in the present day, it is usually being misremembered as that of a critic of technology).

In our modern civilization, Ellul wrote, the intellect has become constrained by a need to produce practical results. This is not only true of science but of any other field, including history, the law, sociology, etc. Each field has its own set rules for producing such practical results, based on technique and its usual advantages: speed, precision, security, universality.

These very advantages are what transform technique, from a tool at the disposal of a practitioner, into the very purpose of the practitioner’s work: the means become the ends. Technique actually changes intellectual behavior.

Intuition, for example, might be “affirmed in the abstract” — but it plays no role in modern intellectual work, because it lacks the precision of technique. A leap of imagination? Not if you wish to be considered anything other than amateur or fool. (Or unless you work in a field like theology or metaphysics, which Ellul describes as “intellectualism of fantasy” that doesn’t matter to the culture.)

Ellul writes, “We can grasp this imperialism of technique by … our modern intellectuals’ attitude toward ways of knowing and doing that follow other methods, such as those of Indians or Tibetans.” These alternative “ways of knowing” are fair fodder for sociological study, but only “lunatics” take them seriously as a route to actual knowledge.

Intellect in the West is now tethered to this one singular tool; all modern intellectuals are materialists, basing their work on what can be “seen, weighed, counted, or measured.” Like any other layperson, the intellectual might choose to hold some other philosophical or even religious position, but she would certainly never let it interfere with her actual work.

The problem that Ellul sees here is that “a doctrine can be refuted, but technical method cannot be called into question. The intelligence of modern human beings ceases to be nourished by the springs of contemplation or awareness.”

Today all matters of policy and doctrine are evaluated and debated based on evidence or data or “study” results, which then (if one disagrees) can be refuted with other evidence, other data, different “study” results — but the technique itself is never called into question. Of course, the audience for all of this data has no way of knowing whether or not it is “accurate,” except for whether or not it supports the audience’s preferred explanatory myth.

Ellul writes, “Freed from dogmas, [intellect] is enslaved to its means.” Admittedly there can sometimes be explosive reactions against the prevailing technique; Ellul cites cubism and surrealism as examples, but points out that these movements, in their reaction against the dominant false reality of their fields, instead denied the existence of any objective reality at all.

And besides, once these countervailing movements come into existence, they immediately become obsessed with their own effectiveness — and thus slaves to their own technique. Intellectual freedom is quickly excluded.

How to Make Things Harder (And Maybe Better)

There’s an election of some alleged consequence barreling toward us in a couple of days, of course, and though I am trying very hard to keep any mention of external “news” out of this blog, I can’t help but feel like I have to say something, or allude to something, anyway.

My instinct is to find a way to make this whole season easier to get through, but that is probably beyond my capabilities, and besides, it wouldn’t be helpful anyway. The easiest thing to do is, as usual, the worst thing you can do: immerse yourself in “news” coverage, stress about the closeness of the polls, live in perpetual anxiety about what horrible thing might happen should the other side win the election.

That feels hard, but it’s not. It’s so easy, in fact, that it doesn’t require you to do anything: just let the culture do to you what it wants to do, which is to foster stress and outrage and anxiety.

Our culture wants us to believe that “paying attention” to things that we can never control is not only entertaining (yes, if you can’t turn your eyes away, and you can’t stop thinking about it, even if what you’re thinking is how awful it is, that means you’re being entertained), but somehow, in some way, important — like feeling outrage or anxiety is your responsibility as a citizen. Seriously, most consumers watch cable news, or scroll through news feeds, and actually feel like being “informed” means they’re “making a difference.”

Well, they’re not.

Look, cast your vote on Tuesday, certainly — I still cling to the quaint notion that this is a citizen’s responsibility, perhaps the only one — but what in the world is the point of worrying about it beforehand, or after?

I’m not suggesting that the right approach is to go skipping and whistling down the lane, or — more likely — watching reality shows, boxing matches, slasher films, Hallmark holiday movies or anything else the culture offers that feels less anxiety-inducing than the literally-endless, conflict-without-catharsis, movie-without-a-plot we call “news.”

Instead, perhaps the right approach would be for us all to choose, not something easy, but something hard.

Lots of folks now are talking about the need for tolerance toward your political “opponents” (as if ordinary people having particular, differing opinions are somehow your “opponents”), and hand-wringing while pleading for everyone to just be more civil to each other, for God’s sake — but few of them, it seems, are talking about these things in anything more than the most generic of ways.

Tolerance? Civility? I think we ask for these things because they also sound easy, and being human beings, we tend to assume that other human beings are not actually capable of all that much.

What if we asked people to do something difficult, instead? How about, instead of asking them (or ourselves) to be civil to our neighbors, we ask them (or ourselves) to … love our neighbors?

It’s no coincidence that I happen to be reading Kierkegaard’s Works of Love right now, and what makes it feel actually life-changing is exactly how impossible it seems.

Kierkegaard’s approach, even in this work that is designed to be more “direct” than his pseudonymous books, is not to offer summarizable explanations of exactly how he thinks you should live. (“Love your neighbor!”) That’s because he knows that sort of thing doesn’t actually work. (The reason that a self-help book industry exists today is that self-help books are repetitive consumables. You don’t buy just one.)

I think that Kierkegaard’s goal instead is to change the way each individual reader thinks, because the only way to change how someone lives is to first change the way they think. He does this by parsing words and phrases, carefully and expertly, in such a way that they get turned inside out, and the reader starts to think: This sounds impossible, but maybe it isn’t impossible.

After all, what does it mean to love your neighbor? A couple of weeks ago I heard someone say, referring to a well-known person, “I can love him, but I wouldn’t invite him to dinner.” Well then, what does it mean to say that you love him? Is this just another example of the way we reduce everything hard into something easy — in this case, turning love into some sort of vague well-wishing?

Perhaps the only way to change the world is not to watch the “news” or to be “informed”, which obviously doesn’t change anything. And it’s not to tolerate people, or be civil to them, because those are unrealistic and vague things to ask of people — and most people, in everyday situations, already are civil and neighborly toward each other; it only feels like they aren’t when we pretend that online interactions are real.

No, all we can do is stop trying to change the world, and instead learn how to love — actually, honest-to-goodness love — our neighbor, which is whoever is there right in front of us, and in their totality,not just whatever seems most lovable about them. We should not do this in order to change the world, and certainly not to change them, and not even to change ourselves — not even to do anything at all, other than to love.

But that sounds a lot harder than the whole well-wishing thing most of us imagine neighborly love to be. It sounds simply impossible to say, “Don’t be civil to your neighbor, don’t respect your neighbor, don’t try and persuade your neighbor — love your neighbor!” I think that we can make it start to seem a little less impossible [sic] by looking inward and asking: Just what the f*** is love, anyway?

Like I said, Kierkegaard defies summarization, so I’m not going to extend this already-too-long-and-rambling blog post by trying to answer that question with some bullet points from Works of Love.

But here is one thing I’m going to try and remember during the craziness of this election — and I would encourage the same for anyone who thinks it is their responsibility to “stay informed”: As stated in 1 Corinthians, knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.

Kierkegaard wrote:

“Love builds up by presupposing that love is fundamentally present. Therefore love also builds up when, humanly speaking, love seems to be absent and where, humanly understood, the first and foremost need is to tear down … To tear down is the opposite of building up. The contrast never appears more clearly than when the discourse is concerned with love as building up: for in any other discussion about building up there is a similarity to tearing down — it means to do something with another. But when the lover builds up it is the very opposite of tearing down, for the lover does something about himself: he presupposes that love is present in the other person — which is quite the opposite to doing something about the other person.”

So instead of to trying to make the craziness of the next week easier, I will actually make it harder, and challenge myself (and maybe you, the single individual) to think before and during every interaction: Am I tearing down, or building up? Am I trying to do something about this person instead of doing something about myself?

It’s a start, anyway.

(Also, read Works of Love.)