The Apolitical In Politics

The ultimate paradox of modern politics is that it respresents precisely that apolitical part of life which is susceptible to more and more politicization. One sees the French Revolution as the demonic primer of the Enlightenment, the final stage of a terminal contingency which began during the Renaissance. The arch-events which so constitute the liberal west's history set the fever of violence in motion. Without even realizing it, society accepts the politics of crisis which got many other societies through bloody revolutions, without stopping to think that crisis should, perhaps, not be forever suspended over the heads of the masses as something to standardize, as something to print onto the feeble nervous systems which make up those left behind after the heads were done piling up behind the  guillotines.

  Both the Left and the Right are constituted, at their core, by apolitical features which hope for greater enunciation through the implementation of political programs which protect them and allow time preference for them to grow. But there are so many carrots dangling from so many strings, as if what is apolitical can be won back. Through all this seeking, one realizes that the apolitical is no different than utopia. Political self identification is a space which cannot be reached by the processes which mask themselves most discreetly as social participation. One finds one's link to utopia through political self identification, which is augmented through representative politics. We cast our desires onto agents willing to accept the brunt of our failures; our lack of self assertion, our intransigent drive toward every piece of doggerel degradation, our every shameless cry for something safe we can trade for any possible modern approximation to a birthright spent too long ago for anyone to remember.

  In a vicious circle, we come to believe that the political domain represents a type of physics. The push of this force and the pull of that, and we, the space between, promising to be ever in motion as if it were a virtue; doors without hinges, seeking constantly for winds into which we can be swept away.