The élites come to believe their
narrative – forgetting that it
was conceived as an illusion
created to capture the
imagination within their
society.
February 16, 2021 "Information
Clearing House" -
Pat Buchanan is absolutely right –
that when it comes to insurrections, history
depends on
who writes the narrative. Usually that falls
to the oligarchic class; (should they ultimately
prevail.) Yet, I recall quite a few ‘terrorists’
who subsequently to were become widely-courted
‘statesmen’. So the wheel of passing time turns
– and turns about, again.
Of course, fixing a narrative – an
unchallengeable reality, that is perceived to be
too secure, too highly invested to fail – does
not mean it will not go unchallenged. There is
an old British expression that well describes
its’ colonial experience of (silent) challenge
to its then dominant ‘narrative’ (both in
Ireland and India inter alia). It was
known as ‘dumb insolence’. That is, when the
performance of individual acts of rebellion are
both too costly personally and pointless, that
the silent, sourly expression of dumb contempt
for their ‘overlords’ says it all. It infuriated
the British commanding class by its daily
reminder of their legitimacy deficit. Gandhi
took it to the heights. And it his narrative
ultimately, that is the one better remembered in
history.
With global Big Tech’s control of narrative,
however, we have entered into an entirely
different order of things, to those early
British efforts at keeping down dissidence – as
Harvard Business School Professor
Shoshana Zuboff succinctly
notes:
“Over the last
two decades, I’ve observed the consequences of
our surprising metamorphosis into surveillance
empires powered by global architectures of
behavioural monitoring, analysis, targeting and
prediction – that I have called surveillance
capitalism. On the strength of their
surveillance capabilities and for the sake of
their surveillance profits, the new empires
engineered a fundamentally anti-democratic
epistemic coup, marked by unprecedented
concentrations of knowledge about us and the
unaccountable power that accrues to such
knowledge.”
Narrative control has now jumped the shark:
“This is the
essence of the epistemic coup. They claim the
authority to decide who knows … [and] which now
vies with democracy over the fundamental rights
and principles that will define our social order
in this century. Will the growing recognition of
this other coup … finally force us to reckon
with the inconvenient truth that has loomed over
the last two decades? We may have democracy,
or we may have surveillance society, but we
cannot have both.” (Emphasis added).
This clearly represents a quite different
magnitude of ‘control’ – and when allied with
the West’s counter-insurgency techniques of
‘terrorist’ narrative disruption, honed during
the ‘Great War on Terrorism’ – is a formidable
tool for curbing dissent domestically, as well
as externally.
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Yet it has a fundamental weakness.
Quite simply, that being so invested, so
immersed, in one particular ‘reality’, others’
‘truths’ then will not – cannot – be heard. They
do not stand out proud above the endless flat
plain of consensual discourse. They cannot
penetrate the hardened shell of a prevailing
narrative bubble, or claim the attention of
élites so invested in managing their
own version of reality.
The ‘Big Weakness’? The élites come to
believe their own narratives – forgetting that
the narrative was conceived as an illusion, one
among others, created to capture the imagination
within their society (not others’).
They lose the ability to stand apart, and see
themselves – as others see them. They become so
enraptured by the virtue of their version of the
world, that they lose all ability to empathise
or accept others’ truths. They cannot hear the
signals. The point here, is that in that talking
past (and not listening) to other states, the
latters’ motives and intentions will be mis-construed
– sometimes tragically so.
Examples are legion, but the Biden
Administration’s perception that time was frozen
– from the moment of Obama’s departure from
office – and somehow defrosted on 20 January,
just in time for Biden to pick up on that
earlier era (as if time was uninterrupted),
marks one example of a belief in one’s own meme.
Whilst the EU’s unfeigned amazement – and anger
– at being described ‘as an unreliable partner’
by FM Lavrov in Moscow, is just another example
of how élites have become remote from the real
world and captive to their own self-perception.
“America is back” to lead, and ‘to set the
rules of the road’ for the rest of the world,
may be intended to radiate U.S. strength, but
rather, it suggests a tenuous grasp of the
realities facing the U.S.: America’s relations
with Europe and Asia were growing increasingly
distant well before Biden entered the White
House – and, therefore, from before Trump’s
(purposefully disruptive) term, too.
Why then is the U.S. so consistently in
denial about this?
On the one hand, after seven decades of
global primacy, there is inevitably
a certain inertia that would hinder any
dominant power from registering and assimilating
the significant changes of the recent past.
However, for the U.S., another factor helps
explain its’ ‘tin ear’: It is the wider
Establishment’s fixation on preventing the 2020
presidential election from validating the
previous one’s results. That really overrode all
else. Nothing else mattered. The focus was so
all-consuming it obscured notice of the world
changing – right there – outside of their
windows.
This is not unique to America. It is easy to
understand why the EU was so blind-sided by FM
Lavrov’s labelling of the EU as ‘unreliable
partner’ (which it patently has been). As former
Greek FM, Yanis Varoufakis has written from his
own experience of trying to get the EU to listen
to his detailed summaries and proposals in
respect to his country’s financial crisis: ‘They
(the Euro Group) just sat grim-faced, taking not
one jot of notice: I might as well have sung the
Swedish national anthem, for all the attention
they gave to my contributions’, Varoufakis later
related. His experience was standard EU modus
operandi. The EU does not do ‘negotiation’.
Supplicants, whether Greece or Britain, must
accept EU values – and its ‘club house-rules’.
The High Representative Borrell, arrived with
his long list of complaints, culled from 27
states (some of which have a historical list of
complaints against Russia). He read the demands,
and no doubt, expected Lavrov, like Varoufakis,
to sit quietly, as he accepted the reprimands –
and the ‘club rules’ appropriate to any aspirant
contemplating some sort of working relationship
with the worlds’ ‘biggest consumer market’. This
is the EU culture.
And then, the following infamous press
conference at which the EU was called
‘unreliable’. Anyone who has attended a EU
decision-making making body, knows the protocol
– but let a former EU high official
describe it: The Council handles
Chefsachen – the stuff of high politics,
not low regulation – in closed sessions. At
these, van Middelaar can report, all 28 heads of
government (pre-Brexit) call each other by their
first names, and may find themselves agreeing to
decisions they had never even imagined
beforehand – before emerging together for a
beaming ‘family photograph’ in front of the
cameras of the one thousand reporters assembled
to hear their tidings, whose presence makes
‘failure impossible’, since every summit (with
just one upsetting exception) ends with a
message of common hope and resolve.
Lavrov, like some ‘rough-diamond’ distant
family relative, didn’t know to behave in polite
EU society; you don’t call the EU names. Oh no!
Varoufakis
explains: “Unlike nation states that emerge
as stabilisers of conflicts between social
classes and groups, the EU was created as a
cartel with a remit to stabilise the profit
margins of the large, central European
corporations. (It began life as the European
Coal and Steel Community). “Seen through this
prism, the EU’s stubborn faithfulness to failed
practices begins to make sense. Cartels are
reasonably good at distributing monopoly profits
between oligarchs, but terrible at distributing
losses”. We also know that, unlike proper
states, cartels will resist any democratisation
or outside input into their tight circle of
decision-making.
This incident in Moscow might all be faintly
amusing, except for the fact that it underlines
how Brussels’ navel-gazing (in a separate way to
that of Team Biden), produces a similar result:
It becomes out of touch with the world beyond.
It ‘listens’, but does not hear. The West’s
hostile strategy to Russia, as Pepe Escobar has
observed in his strategic analysis of
Russia’s position, is conditioned on the notion
that Russia has nowhere else to go – and
therefore must feel pleased and honoured by the
notion of the EU condescending to push-out an
‘octopus tentacle’ towards Eurasia. Whereas,
now, with the centre of geo-economic gravity
shifting to China and East Asia, it is
realistically more a question of whether the
Greater Eurasian heartland, with its 2.2 billion
population, feels it worthwhile to extend its
tentacle out towards the rule-bound EU.
This is no small matter: The EU having a
hissy-fit over Lavrov’s put-down of the EU in
Moscow is one thing. The potential however, for
the U.S. to listen, but not hear, on Russia and
China, is quite another. Mis-hearing, mis-conceiving
these two states, touches on matters of war and
peace.