What (Exactly) Is Neoliberalism?

Dissent magazine is currently hosting a forum on the meaning of neoliberalism—an oft-abused term in leftist circles. Historian Daniel Rodgers kicks off the discussion by arguing that the term is an unproductive conflation of disparate forces.  As variously used, it may represent: i) a description of the global economic situation; ii) a strain of economic theory; iii) the machinations of so-called disaster capitalists; or iv) an all-embracing cultural logic.  Rodgers opposes this conceptual indeterminacy because, he claims, it makes it more difficult to identify potential avenues of resistance.  Of course, what “neoliberalism” means will depend on the context in which it is deployed.  I want to suggest, though, that for those in the humanities (like myself) the term is useful precisely because it is all-encompassing.  In short, it’s a concept capable of tying together the global and the local, the economic (definitions i, ii & iii) and the cultural (definition iv).  As such, it’s useful for reminding us of our embeddedness.

To illustrate my point, I’d like to present some empirical observations.  All of the following points, I’d argue, represent verifiable facts about the nature of life in Western society.  What’s the connection?

  1. In 1950 there were 2,500 private, in-ground swimming pools in the United States.  In 2009 there were 5.2 million (see City Observatory).
  2. When I first enrolled at the University of Kansas in 1998, my tuition was about $1200 a year.  As of 2016, tuition at KU was about $11,000.
  3. Throughout the 20th century, marijuana, gambling and pornography were all, to varying degrees, prohibited by law in the United States.  As of 2018, all these “vices” are tolerated, if not outright legal.
  4. Throughout the 20th century, by and large, claims that a person had the right or privilege to select their own gender were met with hostility or derision.  As of 2018, a wide segment of the US population believes that people do—or at least should—have such a right.
  5. Throughout the 20th century, it was possible for a criminal defendant to escape incarceration on the grounds that he or she was not guilty “by reason of insanity.”  As of 2018, this defense is rarely successfully.  If a defendant is held to be insane, the result is typically long-term commitment indistinguishable from incarceration.

At first glance these observations might seem like a jumble, devoid of any pattern that can be charted.  To make sense of them, we need a meta-category, a cultural logic.  This is what neoliberalism provides. It’s a thread we can use to unite changes in physical environs (1), resources allocation (2), law and policy (3 & 5), and values and mores (4).

So what’s the connection?  Following Stuart Hall and Michel Foucault, I understand neoliberalism as the interjection of the market into every facet of the lifeworld.  Under neoliberalism, people are conceived of as rational economic actors.  They are expected to weigh cost and benefits, to become profit-maximizing “entrepreneurs of the self.”  To facilitate profit maximization, control is decentralized.  Normativity is less strictly enforced as to allow each private entrepreneur to seek profit opportunities invisible to the “powers that be.”  In such a world, if you want to swim, you need to build the pool.  If you want a college education, you need to pay (a lot) for it.  If you have the funds, though, there are more socially valid consumption choices than ever before (weed, porn).  Identity categories also proliferate.  If you feel like a woman, or a transwoman, or a Hijra, you can become one, because, of course, the customer is always right.  Just don’t step out of line.  As a (supposed) profit-maximizer, you will be held responsible for your actions, whether structurally disadvantaged (E.G. insane) or not.

Rodgers would likely criticize my understanding of “neoliberalism” as lacking precision.  He identifies neoliberalism-as-cultural-logic as “the saddest and most totalizing scenario… in which the horizons of all other meanings and purposes shrink and submit to those of market capitalism.”  He sees this way of thinking as leading to despair.  I simply disagree.  Yes, market logic and the demands of global finance dominate our lifeworld.  No, this doesn’t mean human flourishing is foreclosed.

Rodgers, like many on the left, seems to view a binary sort of resistance to the demands of capital as the highest ethical impulse.  For him, the idea that the market structures our ever move is depressing because we can only do good at a remove from market forces.  My claim, I suppose, is that there is no remove.  We are all (human) capital.  And that’s OK.  An objective assessment of the past fifty years indicates both obstacles to human flourishing (the dismantling of the welfare state in the US and UK, no more public pools) and massive progress (a billion Chinese peasants lifted out of poverty, gay rights).  Neoliberalism as an all-encompassing cultural logic allows us to capture this duality.  In doing so, it helps us to better understand ourselves.  It asks us to consider whether, from a perch as an emeritus professor at Princeton, for example, we can really be said to oppose market logic.  Or whether, all along, we’ve just been working within the system to mitigate its worse tendencies.

So, while noting Rodgers concerns, I will keep using “neoliberalism” in an expansive sense.  Yes, mine is an admittedly reductive narrative, and of course you could identify cultural currents which contradict the story I tell.  I think, though, as a writer and teacher (and human) it’s useful to have a broad cultural narrative within which to frame one’s existence.  It doesn’t directly answer any questions, but it allows you to better go about answering questions in your particular domain.  And if broad enough, in a way, it keeps you honest.  It reminds you that however much you want to be, you are almost certainly not outside the system.

Anxious Days: Neoliberalism, Tech and the Age of Anxiety

One of the many paradoxes of the 2016 US Presidential election is a wide disconnect between economic data and public perception. By any objective standard the US economy is doing quite well. As Ben Casselman ably explores in a recent piece for fivethirtyeight though, many voters feel that this is not the case. On both the right and the left, there is a widespread belief that ruin—national, personal, environmental, spiritual—is imminent. What’s going on here? What accounts for such widespread, even apocalyptic, anxiety?

This is of course a big issue (the biggest perhaps), but as far as I can tell two intertwined factors provide the best explanation. First, operating at the material level, is an increased level of connection. Whereas thirty years ago it was possible to turn off the TV, divert your eyes from the newspaper, this is, for many people, no longer an option. Our tools, and the capitalist impulses which create and sustain them, demand our constant exposure to intense expressions of pain, pleasure, love, fear. Our monkey brains, designed to operate under very different material circumstances, have trouble adapting.

By way of explanation, imagine our evolutionary ancestor. He or she sees a snake, feels fear, moves away from the snake, feels better. With Facebook and Twitter and 24 hour cable news though we can’t get away from the snake. Plane crashes, mass shootings, the new iPhone: we are constantly confronted with “the desire of the Other,” as Lacan would say, in its most intense, egregious expression. Our monkey brains simply can’t process this, leading to high baseline levels of anxiety.

So even in 10th century China—a pastoral setting if there ever was one—if the peasants were live-tweeting every rice planting, they too would be pretty stressed out. This material element doesn’t completely explain our current anxiety though. We also have to look at the ideology, or worldview, under which advanced capitalism, particularly the American version, operates.

The ideological keyword of our time has to be neoliberalism. Following Michel Foucault, we can trace the rise of this ideology (or sub-ideology) to roughly the 1970s. In broad terms, it involves the weakening of restrictive social structures (the family, the church, the welfare state, unions) and a move towards “personal responsibility.” This means that people have more “freedom”—think of legalized gambling, marijuana, same-sex marriage—but at the same time, must be increasingly willing to take advantage of this freedom. We must be “entrepreneurs of self,” taking risks in the name of profit.

This new social structure has numerous effects. First, without the leveling tendencies of the older system, some exceptional individuals are able to reach new heights of wealth and power. These figures—think of Steve Jobs or Mark Zuckerberg or Barack Obama—represent an ideal which works to justify the system. At the same time though, many more individuals are left behind, unable (for whatever reasons) to cope with the demands of this increasingly intense capitalist system. Here think of rural working class whites, whom recent reports indicate are facing declining life expectancy. Whereas once church, family and a paternalistic sort of capitalism provided support for these marginalized subjects, those foundations are now gone. It’s sink or swim. And they’re like stones.

Even for the financially secure though the current system offers little in the way of emotional security. Casselman’s article does a good job of highlighting this. Here we have a multi-millionaire Tea Partier, who despite owning a flourishing business, sees an economic system in ruin. We also have a young teacher, comfortably middle class, feeling that he is only one misstep away from personal ruin. Whether or not these claims are objectively true (and I would argue that they are most likely not), they feel true to the claimants because this is what neoliberalism demands we feel. To keep striving, to keep placing our bets in the casino of the marketplace, we have to be afraid: of rival capitalists or losing our job or not have the most sustainable foods on our plate.

So here, in short, we have the two mutually sustaining causes of our anxiety: the material and the ideological, tech and neoliberalism. What do we do? I don’t have an answer for that, though I do think an important first step is recognizing the logic at work. And when people blindly promote these logics (E.G. tech boosters, Republican presidential candidates), we must call them out. That seems to be the only way we can learn to chill.