icarus fallen

6 XII 2007

Simone Weil, in her collected writings Oppression and Liberty, reveals inconsistency within Marxism. In her essay “Prospects”, Weil recognizes that although a so-called Marxist state has been set up in Russia, oppression of the people still persists. The transfer of power, stabilized and reinforced by bureaucracy, “has transformed the dictatorship of the proletariat into a dictatorship exercised by itself” (26). The situation is the no better in Germany; the rise of national-socialism creates an alliance between the state and the capitalists. Hence, “what is serious is that nowhere are the worker organized in an independent manner” (27).

Weil, therefore, points to another direction: regardless of state ideology, the true problem that society faces and continues to practice is the oppression of the people. Although Marx successfully has shown that oppression within the capitalist system creates a self-contradiction that would ultimately “hinder production” and bring its own downfall, he fails to recognize that “in our day, any other oppressive system would hinder it in like manner”. Marx does not bring himself to explain “why oppression is invincible as long as it is useful, why the oppressed in revolt have never succeeded in founding a non-oppressive society… he leaves completely in the dark the general principles of the mechanism by which a given form of oppression is replaced by another” (56). With the hindsight of the establishment of USSR and formation of totalitarian states, Weil comes to understand that ideology that claims to free a certain group of the oppressed is in itself oppression.

Furthermore, in order for state apparatus to function, the use of power is necessary, and a distinction between man with power and man without power is created. The very nature of power, according to Weil, leads to more oppression, as man with power faces the two following two struggles against those he rule and his rivals ultimately bounds up; he who is with power is insecure, the nature of these two struggles calls for the man with power to make power itself more oppressive (63). This, in turn, only calls for more threats from his enemies and increase of the oppressiveness of power again. This analysis presents the instability of power, as Weil presents its nature in a vicious cycle:

For, owing to the fact that there is never power, but only a race for power, and that there is no term, no limit, no proportion set to this race, neither is there any limit or proportion set to the efforts that it exacts; those who give themselves up to it, compelled to do always better than their rivals, who in their turn strive to do better than they, must sacrifice not only the existence of the slaves, but their own also and that of their nearest and dearest; so it is that Agamemnon sacrificing his daughter lives again the capitalists who, to maintain their privileges, acquiesce lightheartedly in wars that may rob them of their sons (64).

Although Weil’s analysis is directed towards capitalist states, same can be applied to states that claim to be Marxist. Marx, because of his inconsistency in accepting the contradiction of both “the cult of science and utopian socialism”, cannot resolve to create a society where power structure can be abolished (161). It is from the sheer revolutionary spirit that Marx inherits which the ideology calls for revolutions, towards a society that his later “scientific” analysis cannot fully envision. The real social problem has yet to be solved; oppression stays, with or without Marxism.

30 XI 2007

Camus explores the theme of judgment and hypocrisy in his novel the Fall through the personal reflections of the narrator, Clamence. Clamence states that as a judge in Paris, he once had an almost “perfect” life: he had a successful career, helped the poor, and had his way with women. As a lawyer, Clamence judges others in every aspect of his action: and through his judgment of others, he himself feel “free of any duty, shielded from judgment as from penalty [of his defendants]” as “the judges punished and the defendants expiated” (26-27). Hence, through passing judgment on others, Clamence feels a sense of superiority over others; his motivation for defending the poor, pitying the miserable, too, results from this very sense, manifested in a form of moral hedonism:

But you can already imagine my satisfaction. I enjoyed my own nature to the fullest, and we all know that there lies happiness, although, to soothe one another mutually, we occasionally pretend to condemn such joys as selfishness. At least I enjoyed that part of my nature which reacted so appropriately to the widow and orphan that eventually, through exercise, it came to dominate my whole life (20).

Thus, Clamence is generous; for such generosity gives him a sense of control, so that he could become “the master of [his] liberties” (22). Camus, then, successfully portrays the psychology of judgment: it is a faculty that which allows oneself to be beyond the very judgment itself, a process of detachment that creates a sense of moral superiority for action resulted from judgment.

However, Camus soon questions the validity of this statement through Clamence’s encounter of a moral crisis. The incidence of witnessing a woman committing suicide without an urge to save her imbues a sense of guilt into him; the episode of his desire to run over the motorcyclist who deterred him from proceeding when traffic light changes to green makes Clamence realize that he, too, is not innocent, is capable of evil, and cannot be beyond judgment itself. This realization creates a sudden change in Clamence’s life; he closes his law practice and withdraws into a sort of amoral debauchery. At this point, then, Camus reflects the hypocrisy of judgment: its assumption of making one higher than others through judging others cannot hold true as the judge himself is equally guilty as the judged. However, at this stage, Clamence’s reaction is still largely negative: by refusing to judge, Clamence sinks to a state that is below himself and his capacities in cowardice of debauchery, a state of existence no better than that of judgment itself.

Clamence resolves this second stage of his life through his acceptance as a “judge-penitent”: he takes the position of the guilty himself, and nonetheless judges—through acceptance of human capacity of evil, he creates a community of man:

The more I accuse myself, the more I have a right to judge you. Even better, I provoke you into judging yourself, and this relieves me of that much of the burden. Ah, mon cher, we are odd, wretched creatures, and if we merely look back over our lives, there’s no lack of occasion to amaze and horrify ourselves. Just try. I shall listen, you may be sure, to your own confession with a great feeling of fraternity (141).

Hence, Camus’ solution to the problem of judging and hypocrisy does not lie in man’s complete withdrawal from judging; but instead one is to accept the hypocrisy as it is, and judge nonetheless from his understanding of human guilt.