Tag: identitetspolitik

En europæisk renæssance

Psykologen Svend Brinkmann sendte for nylig et uventet frisk pust afsted. Det handlede om at gå til kamp mod Donald Trump – men ikke med våben eller politik, men med kultur, historie og idéer. Den handlekraft, som ofte giver amerikanerne deres dynamik, stammer netop fra det faktum, at de ingen historie har.

Hvis skismaet mellem USA og Europa kan reduceres til én grundlæggende forskel, er det denne: Europa har en forestilling om det gode. Gennem historien har vi forstået det gode på forskellig vis – hos Platon eksisterer det i en idéverden, hos Aristoteles udvikles det i menneskelig karakter og praksis, hos Kierkegaard er det kærlighedens mysterium. Men fælles for dem er, at det gode er noget, vi søger, ikke blot noget, vi afgør ved flertal eller debat.

Heroverfor står USA, hvor der ingen tradition findes for det gode – ikke engang som en utopisk forestilling. USA handler ikke om det gode, men om rightness – hvem der har ret. Rigtighed er noget, man kæmper om i den offentlige debat, hvor idéer støder sammen i en battle of opinions. Historisk set har dette været en styrke: en fri markedsplads for idéer, hvor ytringsfriheden har gjort det muligt for mennesker at brydes, udvikle tanker og måske komme tættere på sandheden.

Men hvad sker der, når idéernes markedsplads ikke længere er bundet til en forståelse af det gode? Når debat reduceres til vindere og tabere, og når sandhed gøres til et spørgsmål om loyalitet?

Donald Trump er ikke ophavsmanden til postfaktualitet – men han har drevet den til ekstremer. Postfaktualitet betyder, at fakta ikke længere er et fælles grundlag, men blot endnu en strategi i kampen for magt. Under Trump blev sandhed noget, der blev skabt af dem, der råbte højest eller havde de stærkeste medieplatforme.

Cancelkultur og identitetspolitik fungerer på samme præmis som Trump: det handler ikke om at argumentere bedre, men om at eliminere modstanderen. Hvis sandhed er et spørgsmål om identitet – om hvem du er snarere end hvad du siger – så betyder argumenter ingenting. Det er ikke længere det bedste argument, der vinder – men den mest magtfulde gruppe. Filosoffen Jürgen Habermas har længe advaret om dette: Når sandhed bliver et spørgsmål om magt, bliver offentlig debat meningsløs.

Det, vi risikerer at miste, er det europæiske særkende: en kultur, hvor vi værner om det gode, ikke blot det rigtige.

Men det betyder ikke, at sandheden er en uforanderlig størrelse, som hos Platon. Ligeså vel er det gode ikke nødvendigvis en ultimativ reference – et fast punkt i idéernes eller religioners univers. Pointen er ikke, at det gode og det sande er absolutte, men at disse begreber skærper vores opmærksomhed. De forudsætter en åben, undersøgende og fordomsfri tilgang til virkeligheden, langt mere end den person, der hævder allerede at vide, hvad der er rigtigt og forkert.

Her adskiller Europas idéhistorie sig fra den amerikanske tradition: Vi har været i stand til at blotte os, acceptere vores sårbarhed, vores skrøbelighed og tvivl. Vi har, gennem filosofi og kunst, arbejdet med tvivlen som en styrke frem for en svaghed.

Tvivlen lammer dem, der kun kan navigere inden for dikotomien af rigtigt og forkert. For dem bliver ethvert spørgsmål en kamp om at vinde, at have ret, at positionere sig som den moralsk overlegne. Men dem, der har et blik for det gode, danser med livet. De ved, at verden er i bevægelse, og at sandhed og godhed kræver opmærksomhed, ikke stivnede dogmer. De træder til side, når noget større, bedre eller sandere kan få plads.

Derfor har Brinkmann ret: Europa har brug for en åndelig oprustning. Ikke i form af sentimental nostalgi eller nationalistisk selvtilstrækkelighed, men i form af en genopdagelse af vores egen arv af tænkning, kunst og filosofi. Vi må genlære kunsten at skelne mellem det vigtige og det uvigtige, at erkende kompleksitet uden at falde i relativisme, og at stræbe efter sandhed uden at bruge den som et våben mod andre.

For som Churchill (måske) sagde: Hvad kæmper vi ellers for?

Kommentaren blev bragt i Berlingske Tidende, 22.02.2025

Lighedsprincip med modsat effekt?

“Fodboldens fokus på at fremme mangfoldighed og inklusion udspringer af gode intentioner, siger Finn Janning (i et interview med DR sport).

Han er filosof og forfatter til bogen “Opmærksomhedens filosofi – frihed, kærlighed og fodbold”.

Man bør dog også have for øje, at det samtidig kan ende med at blive et angreb på de lighedsprincipper, som er blandt elitesportens grundpiller.

– Hvis der skal være lige fordeling af spillere med forskellige hudfarver, skal de så ikke også have samme spilletid? Hvor går grænserne?, spørger filosof Finn Janning.

Han forestiller sig, at Danmarks herrelandstræner, Kasper Hjulmand, behandler sine spillere med samme værdighed og respekt, men at kometen Rasmus Højlund får flere spilleminutter end de andre angribere, fordi han er bedre.

– Der ligger altså en retfærdiggørelse, der beror på kvaliteten af spilleren, hvorimod det andet vil bero på kvaliteter, som ikke har noget med spillet på banen at gøre, siger Finn Janning.

Filosoffen mener, at hvis vi en dag lander et sted, hvor holdkort sættes ud fra en række diversitetskrav, så ødelægges konkurrenceelementet.

– De fleste atleter vil gerne spille mod de bedste, for at kunne vise, hvor gode de selv er. Der kan man risikere at fjerne det element ved at spille med det hold, der er moralsk mest rigtigt. Det, der starter med et lighedsprincip, kan ende med det stik modsatte, siger Finn Janning.

– Det sker jo som en form for kompensation, fordi Arsenal er bange for at have handlet uretfærdigt tidligere, og så vil de gerne imødekomme kritikken. Men den kompensation er jo det, der underminerer hele lighedstanken.”

Læs hele artiklen på her

Life is not personal

What if life is impersonal?

In the book The Identity Trap, political scientist Yascha Mounk argues how some ideas (or his interpretations hereof) are causing new forms of polarization, separatism, control, and even repression.

The identity trap, according to Mounk, refers to those people and institutions that prioritize identity over universalism–especially when specific identity categories like race, gender, and sexual orientation are favored. 

The book is filled with illustrative examples from the US of “progressive separatism” and “strategic essentials”, claiming to be for equality while not treating all people as equals.

Yet, some of Mounk’s claims regarding the cause of the emergence of identity politics require a comment.

Foucault & Deleuze

For example, Mounk writes: “Many postcolonial scholars were especially aghast when Foucault, in his exchange with Deleuze, argued that the oppressed do not need intellectuals to speak on their behalf.”

Mounk refers to the French philosophers Michel Foucault and Gilles Deleuze, who in 1972 discussed the struggles of women, homosexuals, and prisoners, as well as the relationship between theory, practice, and power.

In their conversation, they try to break away from the idea that the intellectual “spoke the truth to those who had yet to see it, in the name of those who were forbidden to speak the truth,” as Foucault says. Instead of claiming to speak the truth or have privileged access to it as intellectuals, Foucault and Deleuze discuss “the necessity” for individuals “to speak for themselves.” In continuation, Deleuze stresses: “Who speaks and acts? It is always a multiplicity, even within the person who speaks and acts… Representation no longer exists.”

Representation no longer exists, how should this postulate be understood?

First, each human being is never one fixed being or belongs to one identity group but is a multiplicity. Therefore, a focus on identity that is too rigid is a trap because it imprisons thought. In continuation, no one can speak on behalf of a person or a group because each person or group already is a multiplicity; or, if you should speak on behalf, you speak in several voices, precisely what identity-based politics rarely master, for example, due to strategic essentialism.

In his philosophy, Deleuze operates with an ontology of difference and repetition, where identity manifests after encounters. Deleuze would find it imprisoning to want a particular identity–that is, to restrict thinking to essential forms of being, whether referring to races, ethnicities, sexualities, etc. Thus, he, too, would be against the identity trap, although with different arguments.

To become with life

For example, part of the current focus on identity is trying to undermine the old dominant social order, or what Deleuze and Guattari would call the majority of being “white, male, adult, ‘rational,’ etc.; in short, the average European, the subject of enunciation.” Still, Deleuze and Guattari don’t tear down a dominant system by changing one ideal or one dominating identity with another. The problem is not that it is a man who is white, etc., but that a specific identity is favored over another, that some forms of life are worth more than others. Mounk addresses this problem and shows how the US, in several contexts, favors non-whites, i.e., discriminates. (He gives examples of the distribution of COVID-19 medicine, access to some schools, and certain groups having access to startup help). 

The problem, however, is not male versus female or black versus white, according to Deleuze and Guitar, because everyone should be equally treated, just as there ought to be room for all life forms. The problem is that we think and add authority to specific identities. Add authority to particular identities. Therefore, they suggest becoming imperceptible and impersonal–or simply forgetting about all these identity markers that become a prison. The current urge to seek an identity hinders people’s capacity to think for themselves. Hindering people to become with life.

For Deleuze, what is strange and unfamiliar makes a person think. For example, in the 1970s, Deleuze was active in the early French gay rights movement. He was a member of the group FHAR (Front Homosexuel d’action Révolutionnaire). For some, it might appear strange that a husband and father of two would care for other people’s rights, but why? Due to empathy, imagination, and selflessness, connecting with people different from yourself is possible. For example, you can fight for education even if you have no children or health care, even if you are not sick. This is trivial, yet for some, unfortunately, it is not due to selfishness or progressive separatism (nationalism is an example).

Another argument in favor of Deleuze is that his philosophy moves away from a philosophy of being towards one of becoming. Yet, becoming is not about the point from which something originates or the point at which it arrives. With this, Deleuze would agree with Mounk’s critique against “strategic essentialism” and “progressive separatism.”

Identities are fiction

In A Thousand Plateaus, Deleuze and the psychoanalyst Félix Guattari write: “A becoming is always in the middle; one can only get it by the middle.” Becoming, therefore, does not represent an ideal, a norm, or a reference point. On the contrary, becoming produces new ways of living, sensibilities, and relating to things such as race, gender, or sexuality where everything intersects. No race or sexuality is prioritized for another.

To emphasize the strength of the concept of becoming, they write “becoming-imperceptible.”

The writer Chris Kraus quotes Deleuze for the sentence: “Life is not personal,” in her book, I Love Dick. That idea is incredibly liberating, which Kraus’ work illustrates because the individual life isn’t just about itself; there is always room for becoming someone else.

To put it more simply, identities are fiction.

Using Iris Murdoch’s concept, contemporary society needs a little dose of “unselfing” to improve the world. “Unselfing” means I turn my attention outward, away from myself and onto the world. As a result, I will see things as they really are and not through the lens of my selfish concerns. Unfortunately, this is difficult because many people’s vision is colored by their concern and interest, Murdoch calls it the “fat relentless ego” in The Sovereignty of Good.

The best way to avoid the identity traps is to prevent craving for one.

Løgnen er demokratiets død

Filosoffen Hannah Arendt havde et skarpt blik for forholdet mellem sandhed og løgne. Hun vidste, at det, som overbeviser masserne ikke er fakta, end ikke alternative fakta, men hvor stærkt noget kan opretholde den fortælling, som nogle ynder at se sig selv igennem.

Den fortælling, som Arendt talte om, svarer til hvad vi i dag kalder identitetspolitik, hvor enhver gruppe ser sig selv som særegne, hvorved de værner om deres egen fortælling med en nidkærhed, der til tider gør dem blinde for egne mangler, eller andre menneskers ideer og tanker.

Problemet i dag er det samme, som Arendt rejste midt i det tyvende århundrede, nemlig at de fleste ikke ønsker at tænke, de foretrækker at ignorere besværlige politiske problemer, eller de tyer til klicheer og fjollerier. Det sker, når vi ryster på hovedet af Trump, og siger: ”Sikke en idiot.” Intet synes for alvor at vække vores slumrende handlekraft. Og dette er demokratisk problematisk.

Det modsatte af rationel sandhed er ignorance. Og det modsatte af en faktuel sandhed er den bevidste løgn. Det nytter altså ikke at ignorere politikere (eller andre), der lyver. Det nytter heller ikke – ganske misvisende – at kalde en løgn for en holdning, som kunne man kalde en regnefejl en holdning. Den rationelle sandhed krymper, når nogen bevidst fordrejer, undlader, overdriver eller lyver om faktuelle sandheder (se Den der råber lyver)

Politisk populisme henvender sig til befolkningens følelser; følelser, der som alt andet kan være sande eller falske, velbegrundet eller ubegrundet, fornuftige eller ufornuftige. Følelser er afhængige vores overbevisning eller tro – altså den fortælling vi ønsker at identificere os med – og ikke, hvorvidt noget er sandt eller falsk.

Måske det hele kan summeres igennem Arendts spørgsmål: ”Hvordan sker det onde?” (se  Are We Thinking?) Det sker ikke fordi vi er dumme, sagde hun. Snarere på grund af mangel på omtanke og ubesindighed. Ren og skær dovenskab og ligegyldighed.

Et politisk og socialt engagement kæver en vilje til sandheden, fordi dette engagement skaber fremtidens fundament.

#MeToo exists in an ethical twilight zone

What do we think about when we think of the #MeToo movement? #MeToo is many things—it’s complex and conflicting; it addresses our collective memory (or lack thereof) and history; it touches upon social and economic class, religion, race, and, of course, most of all on gender. And it touches upon the glue of our society: trust.

A few weeks ago, I heard that the Boston Review had decided to keep the writer Junot Díaz on as a fiction editor. Yesterday, the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) cleared Díaz of allegations of sexual misconduct and verbal abuse.

In many ways, the whole “Junot Diaz case” can be placed within the post-truth era of fake news, which again is one of ethics. For example, the journalist Ralph Keyes claims in The Post-Truth Era: Dishonesty and Deception in Contemporary Life, “Deception has become commonplace at all levels of contemporary life.” He goes on to consider that we may have reached a stage in our social evolution that is “beyond honesty.”

The era of post-truth is also an era of moralism. Everything is too easily reduced to good and bad, as if no grey areas exist. This is also part of the rigid identity politics that characterize US politics today, which far too often produce a mindless label—as if only a black person can speak against racism, a homosexual against homophobia, a woman against male abusers. Such assumptions show a lack of imagination. They also avoid staring at all the grey areas. For example, the grey areas are probably the weakest points in the otherwise powerful and very welcome #MeToo movement, in which the Junot Díaz case can be placed since it deals with a man of power accused of behaving badly.

Morality typically deals with whether something is right or wrong. However, being moral is not always the same as being right. For example, a story isn’t true because its moral is, and vice versa. Furthermore, morality is not something unchangeable; rather, it’s a social artefact. Our moral norms change as a result of new knowledge. This knowledge, of course, should be convincing, valid, reliable, and trustworthy. Unfortunately, lack of trust seems to be the protagonist in this particular case.

“Post-truthfulness exists in an ethical twilight zone,” Keyes writes. “It allows us to dissemble without considering ourselves dishonest. When our behavior conflicts with our values, what we’re most likely to do is reconceive our values.” Keyes’ point is interesting. One of Díaz’s main accusers was the writer Carmen Maria Machado, who referred to a Q & A session she had with Díaz, where she claims he was “abusive”, “bullying” and “misogynist.” However, when confronted with a recording of this particular discussion, Machado was forced to admit she had been exaggerating, saying, “I’m not a victim of Junot Díaz. I’m a female writer who had a weird interaction with him.”

Weird, of course, is not necessarily misogynist.

Why did she lie? Did she deliberately stretch her wording to fit the #MeToo vocabulary? So far, Machado has not apologized—perhaps because she is afraid of people’s hate and judgment, or afraid of losing face, or afraid of being accused of lack of empathy. Or, maybe, she doesn’t care, maybe she distrust the institutions who cleared him… no one knows. However, what’s “interesting” is that Machado’s accusations violate trust, which we all need to coexist, regardless of age, gender, religion or sexual orientation, etc.

In an essay entitled “Truth and Politics“, the philosopher Hannah Arendt wrote, “Freedom of opinion is a farce unless factual information is guaranteed and that facts themselves are not in dispute.” Truth, therefore, is not the same as having an opinion. For example, Machado might have the opinion that the she was verbally abused, but in reality she is fictionalizing the truth, or creating “alternative facts” as we call it today.

***

The Danish philosopher K.E. Løgstrup said that trust is elementary or fundamental to human existence. Would I leave my three children at a public school every morning if I didn’t trust the teachers? Would I cross the street with them if I didn’t trust people to stop their cars at a red light?

Trust binds us together. It affects marriages, friendships, parents, and society, including politicians and scientists who inform us about the ecological disasters that humans are creating. Løgstrup emphasizes that human interdependence only works if we trust one another. Trust allows me to surrender myself into the hands of another, to make myself vulnerable, because I expect a respectful, compassionate, and trustful feedback.

Therefore, when Carmen Maria Machado lied about Díaz, it was not just a little white lie. Her words impacted everyone. Not only because she accused a well-known writer but because we trusted her. Some may have been skeptical of the validity of the accusations—thinking of sensationalism, etc., but, at the same time, #MeToo taught us the importance of believing the girls and women who had come forward so courageously. For too long, the victim has suffered unnecessarily because being a victim has been associated with shame. Shame is the reason why many women (and men) and children don’t tell about abuse.

When I discovered that Machado lied and didn’t correct her words until she was confronted a month later with an audio recording of the interview, she became less believable. When she was confronted with a recording, she appears annoyed and defensive but, surprisingly, she also appears to be angry for being exposed. “Stop lecturing!” she said. “That’s what’s so fucking weird. The level of condescension.”

And this is perhaps the saddest part. It may cause people to doubt the sincerity of #MeToo. Machado’s behavior perfectly fits with our cultural acceptance of lying. As Keyes notes in The Post-Truth Era regarding the rise in the use of euphemisms for deception: “We no longer tell lies. Instead we ‘misspeak.’ We ‘exaggerate.’ We ‘exercise poor judgment.’ ‘Mistakes were made,’ we say.” It’s as if we—many, at least—have become careless of what is true or not true.

If we want to change society into something better—a society based on equality, respect, and compassion—then we must trust one another. Trust is also the foundation of critical thinking because we assume that people say what they mean for the sake of the truth, not their own agenda (read: self-serving).

We become wiser by admitting our mistakes, that is to say be accountable for our actions and words, but also by acknowledging all the grey areas when it comes to human interaction, not just between men and women but between all kinds of identities—gender, race, age, culture, beliefs, etc. Let’s not forgot that all identities are prisons. They might make us see something more clearly from our own point of view but are often blind to a lot of other aspects. Let’s not forget that men and women should be able to discuss things without fearing being labeled misogynistic. Let’s not forget that nothing is ever completely black or white. Sometimes women lie, use their power; sometimes men are falsely accused.

The great writer Terry Tempest Williams once said that she wanted to bear witness to both the beauty and pain of our world in her writing. By “bearing witness,” she said, “the story told can provide a healing ground.” With regard to the case of Machado and Díaz, healing arises if their conflict is not used to draw a deeper ravine between genders but, instead, to acknowledge that all parties have suffered, and that trust is only gained through apology and change of actions that will make the grey areas less grey.

A note on identity politics

I concur with the point that, sometimes, the treatment of certain groups can be so cruel and unfair that you need to confront the opponent head-on, for example, the manner in which women (and men) are confronting the patriarchal culture that does not only characterize the business and academic worlds, but also, and to a greater extent, religious societies. This point is, indeed, urgent and highly welcomed.

Still, I think that the concept of identity politics is problematic. In A Thousand Plateaus, Deleuze and Guattari use the concept of the rhizome to illuminate the distinctiveness and connectivity of the multiple factors that constitute reality. “A rhizome has no beginning or end; it is always in the middle, between things, interbeing, intermezzo. The tree is filiation, but the rhizome is alliance, uniquely alliance,” they write. This concept helps us view our lives as assemblages or a mixture of words, institutions, social movements, and countless other things that, while related, are also distinct.

For example, in The Trouble with Unity, the philosopher Cristina Beltrán uses Deleuze’s concept of the rhizome to address some of the problems with identity politics. Using a simple example, she mentions the conception of Latinidad, i.e., the notion that all people from Latin America share the same group identity and cultural consciousness. She notes that many commentators tend to assume that Latinos represent a collective identity. Really? Didn’t people read Edward Said’s work? (e.g. his book Orientalism)

A similar appraisal can be observed for various minority groups, which are assumed to be special or unique instead of the more accurate assertion that we are all different people. The problem with identity politics is that it is tantamount to arborescent thinking. At its worst, arborescent thinking can suppress any other identity: men versus women, white versus black, and vegetarian versus non-vegetarian. Identity politics can also create a culture of victimization—something I often witness in Catalonia, Spain. For more than a generation, schools and politicians in Catalonia have fed the people the idea that they are not part of Spain, that Spain steals from them, and that all problems are caused by Spain. The result is that very few Catalan separatists (not Catalans per se) are prepared to take responsibility or are held accountable for their own actions, as Spain is used as a scapegoat.

Critical thinking and self-reflection, therefore, are arguably rare among people who cling to certain identities as a moral refuge. This is probably related to how convenient a certain position or identity can appear, as if by being feminist, existentialist, Catalan, black, or homosexual, we are, in any way, morally better.

Personally, I believe that Deleuze’s concept of the rhizome can help us find and create value in what takes place without being placed into fixed boxes of identity. I urge for a  more humble and inclusive approach. After all, all identities are prisons hindering us to think freely. Or as Michel Foucault once said: What does it matter who is speaking? It only matters because of hierarchies, domination, and a simple lack of equality and imagination.

What is needed is not more identity politics, but what Deleuze called non-communication, “circuit breakers” that may elude communicative control, whereby people blindly say and do what they do because this is what other people do. There is a scary herd mentality among people who cling onto certain identities.

In short: I can’t really identify 100 percent with any particular identity; however, I can empathize and care for all people.

Originally posted as a comment on the APA Philosophy Blog — (you may wish to check out the link for references to articles on identity politics, and other interesting stuff).

Den der råber lyver

“This is the lesson that history teaches: repetition.”
Gertrude Stein

Fornylig skrev jeg en kronik i Information, der handlede om journalistikkens rolle i en postfaktuel verden. Kronikken medførte, som det engang imellem sker, at jeg modtog Lea Korsgaards pamflet: Den der råber lyver.

Korsgaard, der er chefredaktør på Zetland og forfatter til tre bøger beskriver i pamfletten, hvordan journalistikken tidligere havde den nøgne journalist, som ideal. En journalist, der ukritisk viderebragte informationer uden at tjekke, om disse var sande, relevante, væsentlige m.v. I stedet for den nøgne journalist, taler Korsgaard om, at en journalist bør være klædt på til finderspidserne. ”Med viden og kløgt.”

Ordet kløgt refererer bl.a. til Aristoteles’ begreb phronesis; en praktisk fornuft, der modsat en mere intellektuel og abstrakt fornuft kræver, at journalisten får jord under sine negle. Den kløgtige journalist graver i fakta, uddyber, nuancerer, hvorved denne ikke kun formidler, men også etablerer et fundament, hvor samfundets borgere kan se sandheden i øjnene. Hvis alt er tvivlsom eller direkte løgn, mister vi ethvert samfunds fundament: tilliden.

Jeg læste denne lille pamflet samtidig med at jeg i El Pais læste en artikel, der hævdede, at pamfletten har genvundet sin popularitet. Pamfletten kan – qua sin størrelse – bringe den intellektuelle ind i samfundsdebatten, her og nu. En pamflet er et aktuelt nedslag; en optimering eller kvalificering af debatten, hvilket Den der råber lyver, lever op til.

Artiklen i El Pais nævner bl.a. den spanske forfatter Eduardo Mendozas pamflet Hvad sker der i Catalonien, og filosoffen Fernando Savaters pamflet Mod separatisme. Sidstnævnte beskriver, hvor skadelige de catalanske separatisters kamp er – rent demokratisk og medmenneskeligt – fordi de både eliminerer fornuften og borgerbegrebet. De catalanske separatister, skriver Savater, tilsidesætter loven, mens de lader følelserne drive gæk med dem, skønt disse følelser ofte ikke har belæg i noget sandt. Eller de lader loven favorisere dem, der mener det samme, som dem selv, hvilket jo strider imod lovens opgave, der bør behandle alle lige.

Der råbes meget i Spanien, men mest af alt blandt de catalanske separatister. De eksemplificerer glimrende Korsgaards titel. Så det var både med glæde og irritation, at jeg læste Korsgaards pamflet: Glæde, fordi den er relevant; irritation, fordi den kastede mig tilbage i en debat, som jeg ellers havde besluttet mig, at forlade. (Jeg har tidligere skrevet artiklerne: Grumset catalansk nationalisme (2014), Catalonien mellem frihed og kontrol (2017), om manglen på medfølelse i essayet Compassion in Catalonia, om hvordan hadet til Spanien bevæger sig fra catalanske forældre til deres børn i essayet The Boy in the Classroom, om den psykiske terror i kommentarerne Cataloniens separatister udøver psykisk vold mod sine modstandere og Cataloniens frihedskamp er endt i undertrykkelse).

Og nu er jeg her igen! Det catalanske projekt er ikke et fysisk voldeligt projekt, men mentalt kontrollerende og manipulerende. De, der ikke har blik for det, lever stadigvæk i Michel Foucaults Disciplinærsamfund, hvor mennesket opdrages i lukkede systemer: børnehave, skole, arbejdsplads, fængsler, etc. I dag lever vi snarere i det Gilles Delueze kaldte et Kontrolsamfund. Her er der ingen tydelige grænser, hvorfor vi også nemmere forfører og kontrollerer os selv. Det gør vi, fordi vi gerne vil passe ind (eller undgå eksklusion), opnå social anerkendelse eller identitet m.v. I praksis betyder det, at vi bliver offer for vores egne gerninger. Præcis ligesom, når mange ukritisk deler alt på nettet, hvorefter de forbløffes over, at al denne information måske anvendes af nogle.

Det, som præger de catalanske separatister er, hvad organisationsteoretikere kalder ”groupthink.” De ophøjer egen moral, mens de gør sig resistente overfor enhver kritik. Dette hænger sammen med udviklingen af en forførerende diskurs, som de catalanske politikere i årevis har tvangsfodret deres boger med.

For det første, selvom de lever godt i Catalonien, kan de leve endnu bedre, fortælles det,  hvis bare de slipper af med Spanien. Spanien stjæler jo! For det andet, de catalanske separatister skal aldrig stå til ansvar for deres fejl og mangler, fordi de har altid Spanien at bebrejde. Det betyder, at de catalanske separatister har skabt en offer-kultur uden et konkret etisk fundament, der jo kræver evnen til at stå til regnskab for ens egne gerninger, som Kierkegaard har sagt.

Resultatet er, at Catalonien for separatisterne er blevet en slags utopi, hvilket jeg har skrevet om i kronikken Catalonierne opfører sig som en selvretfærdig part i et ægteskabelig krise. En utopi er det gode sted, som ikke er. Et sted, der begæres, idet det henter næring i sit udtalte had til Spanien, mens de drømmer om frihed og demokrati. Dog ikke demokrati forstået som en tredeling af magten, da de catalanske separatister gerne arbejder tæt sammen med politiet. Det er nu heller ikke demokrati, forstået som en organisering af uenighed, hvilket er filosoffen Jacques Ranciéres definition, idet de, som er uenige ignoreres eller, per automatik, kaldes fascister. Eksempel er der flere spaniere, der ønsker at bevæge sig fra et monarki til en republik, flere (rigtig mange), som finder Rajoys regering inkompetent, etc. Her kunne der sagtens etableres et samarbejde på tværs af alle Spaniens regioner, men det er svært, fordi præmissen jo er, at det er Spaniens skyld. Ligeledes er der flere catalanske journalister og kunstnere, der har forladt regionen, fordi de ikke var tilhængere af catalansk uafhængighed, hvorfor de ikke kunne finde arbejde, de blev udstødt m.v.

Med hensyn til frihed, så handler det jo ikke kun om, at blive fri fra Spanien, hvilket i praksis betyder, fri fra at tage del i et demokratiske arbejde, fx den grundlov, som de selv har underskrevet. Frihed handler eksempelvis også om, at være fri til at skabe nye veje, der ikke bare går destruktivt imod, men som snarere innovativt og kreativt går imod, idet nye alternativer skabes. Det kreative og innovative mangler. Personligt oplever jeg, at Barcelona de seneste ti år er blevet mere provinsiel og mindre radikal, idet megen kritik ender i en karikatur, hvor alt kendes på forhånd: Spanien er ond, de catalanske separatister er gode. Selvom enkelte slagord dukker op, såsom feminisme og økologi, så udleves de ikke mere her, end andre steder i verden, hvor de også er efterspurgte. I Madrid er der progressive øko-feminister, for eksempel.

Der mangler i Spanien og Catalonien, det, som Korsgaard kalder en lidenskabelig etisk journalist. En, der fasterholder, ”at kendsgerninger er mere værd end anekdoter.”

Anekdoter om Spaniens fascistiske historier er der nok af, men kendsgerningen er, at den spanske borgerkrig sluttede i Madrid, hvor den største modstand mod Franco var; kendsgerningen er, at flere cataloniere hyldede Franco for hans religiøse familieværdier; kendsgerningen er, at den tidligere catalanske præsident Puyol, ønskede immigranter til Catalonien, der ikke talte spansk, fordi de så ville lære catalansk; kendsgerningen er, at den catalanske sprogpolitik får Dansk folkeparti til at fremstå, som de mest kærlige; kendsgerningen er, at de catalanske skoler accepterer stærke politiske symboler og retorik, fx som når forældre hænger bannere eller balloner på skolen fuld af slagord; kendsgerning er, at medier slet ikke viste Marlene Winds debat med Puigdemont i fjernsynet, de viste blot en statsmand, der ukritisk indtog Danmark, etc.

I stedet for ukritisk, at løbe med den forførerende retorik, kunne en turist i Catalonien spørge sig selv, om folket her virkelig lider, om de lever i en diktatorstat, etc. Under borgerkrigen kunne Cataloniere ikke samles i grupper på mere end fire-fem personer, i dag vandrer de rundt i gaderne, hvilket jo netop understreger, at der er demokrati.

Det er kompliceret, men ikke mere komplekst, end der er tale om en veludført strategi, der udfældes i medier og til dels i skoler og familier. Filosoffen Victoria Camp taler om mental manipulation, hvor Spanien gradvist er blevet elimineret fra den kollektive catalanske bevidsthed. Hun nævner sågar, hvordan hendes egen børn blev manipuleret i skolen. Dette projekt går flere år tilbage. Når jeg taler med unge studerende i Barcelona (dette er ikke et videnskabeligt studie, men baseret på samtaler med 13-15 forskellige drenge og piger i alderen 1-20 år, som alle er uafhængighedstilhængere), og spørger dem: Hvorfor vil I uafhængighed? Svarer de prompte: Spanien er fascistisk. Når jeg så siger: Virkelig! Hvorfor vil I uafhængighed? Svarer de: Jamen sådan var det i min familie, i skolen var holdningen gerne sådan, at Spanien var de onde…

Journalistikken må vedblive at være ”fællesskabets trykte dagbog,” citerer Korsgaard sociologen Robert E. Park for at sige. Denne dagbog mangler i Catalonien, hvilket jo selvfølgelig er hele Spaniens ansvar. De mangler generelt en forsoningsproces a la den, som Mandela foretog i Sydafrika. Det er pga. uvidenhed, at løgne, manipulationer og hadet, har det så nemt. Helt simpelt, som en buddhist munk engang har sagt, hvis du forstår, så hader du ikke. Jeg tror reelt ikke, at catalanske separatister forstår den spanske historie i al dens uperfekthed og storhed; den historie, som de selv er en del af. Ligesom mange i Spanien ikke forstår den frustration og det mindreværdskompleks – der præger mange i Catalonien – med tiden er blevet til had og arrogance.

Spanien er et demokrati, et ungt og skrøbeligt demokrati, men at kalde Spanien for Franco-land er ligeså forrykt, som at kalde Tyskland for Hitler-land. Modsat af hvad der forefindes i Catalonien, så er der en kritisk debat i Spanien – også af præsidenten Rajoy. I Catalonien behandler separatisterne, der ellers kommer fra vildt forskellige partier, alle Puigdemont som paven, fordi de deler et had. De catalanske separatister har skabt en religion, hvor objektet ikke er en kærlig Gud, men et had til Spanien. Dette er bekymrende uanset, hvor relevant meget af kritikken af regeringen i Madrid, så end er.

Og på den måde gentager historien sikkert sig selv. Michel Serres har skrevet om, hvordan Romerriget blev bygget på død og had. Modsat Gandhis fantastiske ikkevolds strategi, så har de catalanske separatister intet imod at lyve. At lyve bevidst er, mener jeg, noget ganske voldsomt, fordi det undergraver respekt og tillid, som politikerne og medierne burde skabe. Tillid og mellemmenneskelig respekt er to ting, som der ikke er meget af p.t. i Catalonien.

Min italienske ven og filosof, som er bosiddende her i Barcelona, frygter et nyt Jugoslavien, selv frygter jeg ikke …, men jeg håber, at journalistikken bliver endnu bedre, end den er.

Lea Korsgaards pamflet er et glimrende sted at begynde.

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