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Description
Suppose that life pours itself into a glass for you and invites your consideration. Do you optimistically see this glass half-full, or do you pessimistically see it half-empty? Perhaps neither quantification sufficiently expresses the nature of these two outlooks.

An alternative framing of this time-worn metaphor is wittily supplied to us by philosopher Eugene Thacker in his recent book Infinite Resignation. Near the start of the text, Thacker cites that, for him, pessimism is best captured by the joke “I see the glass half-full, but of poison.”

What then if indeed such a glass is filled with poison? What action qualifies the nature of these two outlooks? Is it the pessimism of the world-weary that is exhibited if this noxious toxin is drunk? Or would this instead be a display of optimism, of a well-wishing “alas, yet perhaps the outcome won’t be as bad as it seems!” Perhaps it is thus—a comic nihilism, a resignation, an acceptance that the world is for the worse and there can be no alternative.

There can be no, no… what? It is here that we strike upon what is most necessary. For in our current unraveling, we’ve all but overlooked our greatest presumption. What of poison or its volume? Think instead—what of the glass? What is this glass? Yea, if there is poison, it is proffered to us by this glass. It is this which we must understand—the glass is a framework, a cage. Perhaps for the optimist, this cage is a home. But for the critical gaze of the pessimist, it is a prison.

What of other glasses? Can one not reach for another? If we try, it would be in affirmation of tragic defiance; this is the rebel’s path! It is the nomadic adventure that is not impeded by anchorings to homes or prisons. It is instead inspired and driven by love for the journey and all its wild experimentation. Suppose then that life pours itself into a glass—the glass has named itself “capitalism"—and invites the rebel’s consideration. Yea, within the glass, it is the rebel's spirit that can see all the poison of Capital. “You proffer me... poison? Fie, what of that? A journey is a journey for me.”

Yet it will surely be asked, ”the rebel is then a communist?” If so, “communist” cannot be understood as it is within the dominant framework of capitalism. However, it should first be noted here that this entire concept—the concession that there exists hidden dimensions of information that escape our sensual perception, consideration, and recognition—defines what is known as the school of philosophical realism. And thus we can begin to understand a term popularized by the late philosopher Mark Fisher, "capitalist realism", a term, which he thoroughly explores in his book Capitalist Realism: is there no alternative?

We are caged within a framework, and anything outside it is distorted. In the seventh chapter of his book, Fisher, further citing Wendy Brown, recognizes that neoliberals and neoconservatives—both slaves to the interests of Capital—have used this framework of capitalist realism to produce a disciplined citizen. This citizen, whose entire perception of the world is anchored to the design and framework of production, has only been trained to look for solutions "in products, instead of political processes."

Herein lies the challenge—the solution is not a product, but a process, and if we are to understand "communism" or any revolutionary kinetic as an actual, post-capitalist solution, we cannot reduce our understanding of this solution to merely be another product that is proffered to us through the prison of a framework. Our freedom, our tragic defiance, must be understood, not as a singular endpoint, but as an on-going, experimental process.

We will error—we do so in all things—but it is fatalistic to settle for poison once we can recognize it to be such. Moreover, we will learn, together, for that too is our way. That is our adventure. And so, to all the freedom fighters, yea, to all wild spirits that likewise find their passions in this journey—I understand, and I am with you.

hackd

Description
Suppose that life pours itself into a glass for you and invites your consideration. Do you optimistically see this glass half-full, or do you pessimistically see it half-empty? Perhaps neither quantification sufficiently expresses the nature of these two outlooks.

An alternative framing of this time-worn metaphor is wittily supplied to us by philosopher Eugene Thacker in his recent book Infinite Resignation. Near the start of the text, Thacker cites that, for him, pessimism is best captured by the joke “I see the glass half-full, but of poison.”

What then if indeed such a glass is filled with poison? What action qualifies the nature of these two outlooks? Is it the pessimism of the world-weary that is exhibited if this noxious toxin is drunk? Or would this instead be a display of optimism, of a well-wishing “alas, yet perhaps the outcome won’t be as bad as it seems!” Perhaps it is thus—a comic nihilism, a resignation, an acceptance that the world is for the worse and there can be no alternative.

There can be no, no… what? It is here that we strike upon what is most necessary. For in our current unraveling, we’ve all but overlooked our greatest presumption. What of poison or its volume? Think instead—what of the glass? What is this glass? Yea, if there is poison, it is proffered to us by this glass. It is this which we must understand—the glass is a framework, a cage. Perhaps for the optimist, this cage is a home. But for the critical gaze of the pessimist, it is a prison.

What of other glasses? Can one not reach for another? If we try, it would be in affirmation of tragic defiance; this is the rebel’s path! It is the nomadic adventure that is not impeded by anchorings to homes or prisons. It is instead inspired and driven by love for the journey and all its wild experimentation. Suppose then that life pours itself into a glass—the glass has named itself “capitalism"—and invites the rebel’s consideration. Yea, within the glass, it is the rebel's spirit that can see all the poison of Capital. “You proffer me... poison? Fie, what of that? A journey is a journey for me.”

Yet it will surely be asked, ”the rebel is then a communist?” If so, “communist” cannot be understood as it is within the dominant framework of capitalism. However, it should first be noted here that this entire concept—the concession that there exists hidden dimensions of information that escape our sensual perception, consideration, and recognition—defines what is known as the school of philosophical realism. And thus we can begin to understand a term popularized by the late philosopher Mark Fisher, "capitalist realism", a term, which he thoroughly explores in his book Capitalist Realism: is there no alternative?

We are caged within a framework, and anything outside it is distorted. In the seventh chapter of his book, Fisher, further citing Wendy Brown, recognizes that neoliberals and neoconservatives—both slaves to the interests of Capital—have used this framework of capitalist realism to produce a disciplined citizen. This citizen, whose entire perception of the world is anchored to the design and framework of production, has only been trained to look for solutions "in products, instead of political processes."

Herein lies the challenge—the solution is not a product, but a process, and if we are to understand "communism" or any revolutionary kinetic as an actual, post-capitalist solution, we cannot reduce our understanding of this solution to merely be another product that is proffered to us through the prison of a framework. Our freedom, our tragic defiance, must be understood, not as a singular endpoint, but as an on-going, experimental process.

We will error—we do so in all things—but it is fatalistic to settle for poison once we can recognize it to be such. Moreover, we will learn, together, for that too is our way. That is our adventure. And so, to all the freedom fighters, yea, to all wild spirits that likewise find their passions in this journey—I understand, and I am with you.

hackd