The question of where affects meet politics is one that has had philosophical types stumped (slash writing voluminously—same difference, really) for some time now. Many people on the left, including me, would tend to want to ground any discussion of the affective dimension of political engagement in Marxist-inflected materialism.
Being a materialist, to my way of thinking, has always entailed the belief that some people most definitely have it better than others; that having nicer things, a more comfortable standard of living, access to the latest in medical treatments and technologies, and being born with the privilege afforded to certain classes but routinely denied others (along with the rights that tend to come along with this) certainly does make a difference in life. Being born privileged in the mind of a materialist does make your life qualifiably and quantifiably better than the life of someone else who doesn’t have the benefit of those same privileges. Perhaps the standard unit of measure is not necessarily "happiness", but "comfort", in this equation.
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Otherwise, one wonders, what is the point of pushing for revolution (or mutation, or change, whatever you want to call it) at all? If there is nothing necessarily better about having things, having a nicer home, having running water, a comfortable salary, and easy access to medical care, then why buck the system at all? If even the most privileged among us might, after a revolution, end up being just as genuinely as sad and depressive as everybody was before, despite being very comfortable, what exactly is supposed to be the point of ushering in a “revolution”? Why bother? If "life sucks, then you die"—even if you’re white, rich, and can get SSRIs and free visits to the shrink on your awesome state-sponsored universal health coverage—should we seriously consider waging war (revolution, whatever) with only the promise of our own unhappiness to extend to others afterward?
Since I don’t add teleological/utopian nonsense to my materialism, I generally refuse to direct all of my thinking toward a future world where our political work will be accomplished, and there will be no need to push for change anymore. I’m sure there will always be a hegemonic superstructure, there will always be something to struggle against, there will always be an apparatus or power structure that needs dismantling and reconfiguring. Things can and they will get better, I'm convinced, even if they will never be perfect or entirely fixed.
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But I am also certain that there is a real and clear difference between what scientists can demonstrate is a disease state of the brain (and differential diagnosis) called major depressive disorder, and a much more generalized feeling of dis-ease in the world, what Heidegger and the German existentialists called Angst or the uncanny/unheimlich, and what some people are calling “dysphoria” (even though I’d probably reserve that word for severe and specific medically verifiable cases, since I give preference to the medical definitions of disease states and subscribe to a Churchlandian model of what the human “mind” is).
If there isn’t any difference between 1) feeling generically ill at ease in the world, which everyone feels, of course, to some extent (as long as you phrase the question correctly and focus group it just right), 2) being justifiably angry about political injustice, and/or 3) being sick with a genetically linked psychiatric disorder, it would seem that our “materialism” is really in trouble. That it’s practically baseless, even. In fact, it would seem that what you’re actually talking about is a form of idealism, where there is no distinction between the umwelten of individual people and the biosphere itself as an entity, but instead some mystical union between them in which the “badness” or inadequacy of the natural world is such that no truly good person could be happy living in it.
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Flashbacks to German Lit 350. Goethe and all of them Deutsche dudes would love this shit (it's definitely an interesting spin on the old party line): the high drama of the realization that the world we live in is not the world that the humanists told us existed, where life was essentially beautiful and harmonious. What we're really back to, I think, is a post-Marxist political subject who realizes that humanism is a wash, that it's ridiculous, that the world is not a place where everything that's out of joint can simply be put back in, and man put back at the center of the universe where he belongs, with everyone living in perfect harmony, and global warming reversed by everyone doing their little part collecting soda cans. It's the terrible realization that nature itself is part of who we are, that nature is, in fact, the problem, and that, as such, we are part of the problem as well. This is something it has in common with post-humanism.
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If the speculative world(s) of the "post-humanist" are 'cold', however, it's not because post-humanists are unhappy: it's because after humans no longer center the universe ontologically, the political sphere ceases to be framed primarily vis-a-vis the affective engagement (or disengagement) of humans. The cold spaces form a sort of void that can be filled. Possibilities we've never dreamed of yet open up. Inhuman/non-human actors are given their due as agents in world-making. Until we sort out which actors are doing what, our political actions will be at best stabs in the dark, at worst, serious errors, misfires and wastes of resources. I suppose that, for these reasons, ANT and OOO are where I'd prefer to focus my political and philosophical energies for the time being.