I hate politics
Or perhaps better put, I don’t believe in politics.
What do I mean by that statement? First off, the reason why I feel compelled to make that statement in this moment right now? That’s an easy one to answer: it’s a civic election year here in Winnipeg, which means the welcome mat to the gates of hell has been rolled out in all its glory.
When it comes to the initial statement in and of itself however, that’s a harder question to answer. I used to love politics. And by love, I mean I deemed it virtuous and my sworn duty on both sides of my fundamentalist past and subsequent deconstruction, to align myself with it. You couldn’t be your ideologies if you weren’t clearly identified with your politics after all, and those ideologies were the point.
I still deem it an irony to consider that I came to hate politics while standing far outisde of my particular “Christian” fundamentalist past. An irony, but one that makes perfect sense when I look back on it today. It stemmed from a moment when I recognized, in my movement away from that particular Christian expression I had inadvertently adopted an opposing fundamentlist approach and position. It turned out I hadn’t left the fundamentalism behind, I had simply switched ideological sides.
That’s when I met the cynics. That embattled and misunderstood philosphical tradition that believes all politics are built on a construction, an illusion, and therefore choses to liberate itself precisely through its rejection of all such constraints. This, it seemed, made sense. The problem the cycnics faced? It consistently positioned them on the outside of society, because society, as it turns out, needs those constructs to survive. Truth however, is not interested in the act of survival or utility, rather it is interested primarily in the authenticity of one’s beliefs. How it is that our constructs relate to those beliefs is the muddied ground it tries to clear away and clarify in the process, and usually around the prevailing question lobbied at functionalist approches regarding whether “truth” actually matters in the first place to a world obsessed with utilitarian terms.
In some odd way one can also argue that a constructed society and its politics equally needs the cynics in order to aspire to such a question.
More irony: a cynic doesn’t just emerge as a product of such a society, it can only exist by way of its response to something that transcends such constraints. In other words, someone from the outside might call you cynical about the ability of those societal constructs to say something true, but the cynics position can only be qualified in so far as it is seeking truth which transcends the constructs themselves. This is an extremely difficult distinction for a modernist to entertain, as we have become conditioned towards seeing the constructs as being synonymous with truth itself. It is in fact, for the cynics at least, the rejection of these constructs as authoritative that matters most to our concept of truth. It’s part of how this philosophical movement seeks this authenticity of belief beyond the utilitarian nature of the world’s constructions. It must be able to distinguish between these two things.
An important note here about what a cynic is. As with most words, our modern iterations and definitions exist quite removed from the words ancient origins or usage. It could be said that modernism sees cynicism as a purely negative act, a matter of choosing to or being uanble to believe in the thing we are indeed rejecting as a source or expression of truth, which in modernist terms relates to facts or material defintions of reality. The ancient role of the cynics was actually about a more positive act of reclaiming that which is true precisely by distinguishing between the construct and the reality. This transcends the superficial dualism that seperates material defintiions from other forms of truth. It is asking bigger questions than our modern definitions allow, mired as they have become in its politics (a material construction).
One mantra I have long carried with me on this journey, although I confess I no longer remember where I got it from, is simply this: Politics is what the world has when it detaches itself from philosophy. I would also say this reaches even more broadly into the reality of theology. In other words, when we become disinterested, willfully or not, in truth as something that transcends our constructs, politics becomes our central authority. We then become incapable of distinguishing between worldviews, with our opposing political sides arguing about ideology from within what functionally becomes the same, singular worldview (materialism or physicalism), a fact that renders arguments on both sides essentially incoherent.
A quick definition of politics taken from the Merriam-Webster dictionary:
Politics: the art or science of government such as, concern with guiding or influencing governmental policy, winning and holding control over a government, and actions and practices or policies relating to politics
This definition pushes further, adding subsequent uses that relate directly to a functioning political life, political opinions, and more broadly speaking “the complex of relations between people living in society.”
This, then, sets us within a much larger conversation about the relationship between what we believe to be true about this world and how it is that we partcipate in it. One could summarize this definition by saying it in the following way:
1. A political construct emerges within a functioning society
2. The political construct gains a voice of authority, and we treat that authority as truth
3. We fight for control by using the construct to create our ideological lines and our identity
4. The construct comes to define our relationship to truth
The cynic, in contrast (or more adequately in repsonse) seeks to name what politics is at the front, and moves to reframe the narrative by stripping it of its authority. In doing so it allows authentic truth to emerge detached from the limiting constraints of our participation in society. This doesn’t diminish the reality of our participation, rather it clarifies it.
There’s another layer that gets brought in though, one that relates more to our modern landscape than the ancient one, and that is the Enlightenments rebranding of this ideological warring (see above) as a new found secular-religious divide. Suddenly these ideological camps become synonymous with that divide, meaning one’s beliefs about transcendent philosophical and/or theological truth are now anchored to one’s political position as part of what can be called the creation of our culture wars. The cynics role now, by implication, becomes muddied by the weaponizing of our political rhetoric. You can no longer stand apart from politics because the wars inevitably drag you back in. Any and all cynicism now inadvertently serves these warring sides.
Thus, the most important thing I gleaned from my time with the cynics, something I still very much aspire towards, is the simple endeavor of continuing to argue for the most important task of any person, which is the formation and subsequent naming of our master narratives. Apart from this there can be no coherent debate, no legitimate argument, only this politically defined illusion the West likes to name and call democracy, a term that does a lot of work in compartmentalizing the different facets of our political side, work that I don’t think it can rightly own. I’ve often heard it said, democracy is not something that actually exists, rather it gains its power through convincing people to believe that it does. A cynic’s position would say the real crutch of the matter digs deeper yet, and that is towards the narratives that underlay the construct.
The pure cynic understands that the goal is not complete detachment from society, although some have tried. The cynic understands that we are all products of such a society and we cannot help but function within it. What the cynic does do however is apply their cynicism about what is actually authoritative to those very constructs they participating in. They refuse to allow it to become an authoratative voice in and of itself. They often made a practice out of random spectacle and intentional disruption of normative function, leaning into a practice of deconstructing what we often deem to be turned sacred within those constructs. This becomes a way of pointing out the foolishness of it all, even as we appear to be bound to its necessity at the same time (such as the idea of democracy one could say).
For such a cynic operating today, it tends to demand a habit of flipping sides, of refusing to allow this secular-religious divide to turn politics into a false image of itself, refusing to allow it to become an authoratative voice. This is a much more tepid and constrained expression of the ancient Tradition, constrained as it is by our modern dualism, but it is nevertheless still important in a society where the only unifying force now tends to be politics.
One thing to remember about the ancient Cynics is that they weren’t simply out to rock the boat for its own sake. Dig underneath the grand displays that were not hesitant about pushing their way into any ordered, seemingly sacred societal construct without fear of insulting its importance, and you will find their deep rooted convictions regarding a seeking after authenticity of belief. You find this consistent need to bring a clarifying authority to the surface. They were obsessed with this kind of integrity beteeen what they believed to be true and the reality of the functional life. What defeated a cynic more than anything was this sense that their life might betray a sense that they had ceased to care about the relationship between their beliefs and their life. One’s life could be deeply inconsistent, that was not the thing that condemned. What condemned was allowing something like politics to subsume a reasoned assessment of what is actually true about the nature of this world. The greatest enemy then was apathy or willful ignorance when it came to the hard work of attending for the implications of our beliefs. This would go on to have a huge influence on my life moving forward, even if it remains my greatest obstacle. The modern western world is not conducive to occupying this space. Even more difficult is figuring out how to translate this into the modern space in a way that isn’t completely self defeating. Ther’s a fine line between cycnism and despair.
I began this by noting that yes, Winnipeg is in an election year. And yes, I hate politics. Generally speaking I tend to stay at arms length from political discussions. Where I do tend to get involved is in matters of theology. The problem being, theology and politics have become muddied bedfellows in our present day and age.
If anything can draw me into the waters of political discussion it is a civic election. This, for me, is where the warring tends to have its most grassroots connection to day to day life. And this election year is proving to have its fair share of dramatics.
On one front we have incumbant mayor Scott Gillingham now running for a second term in office. I can still remember when he first started to emerge as a possible contender following consecutive terms by Brian Bowman, who became known as someone so aggressively determined to hold the status quo that decades and decades worth of long standing projects waiting for someone to remove the obstacles standing in their way, kept piling up, and up, and up, leaving his legacy to be remembered as a mild mannered, hold the fort mentality. Which of course is not the way to grow a city. More so it creates its biggest threats when cracks start to show in the foundation.
The issue at the time was two-fold. First, the baffling dismissive of Glen Murray, one of the strongest contendors on the ballot sheet in a long while. And second, the narrative surrounding Gillingham’s past as a pastor. The fear at the time surrounded those earlier signs of things going south “south of the border,” and the fact that anything signifying a mounting effort by the Christian right fueled that trepidation in a city known for occupying that centrist line between East and West.
My take: I have my deep felt criticisms of Gillingham, particularly when it comes to his appraoch to homelessness, which is the primary issue being driven by the NDP on the provincial front at present. There were ways to make this a more fruitful collaboration, and I think Gillingham’s growing into this new role trended towards fear and uncertainty instead, perhaps even a mix of some muddled ideological confusion on his front (if I am interpreting some of his public presence correctly). But there are two things that I would say surprised me about Gillingham:
1, Early in his tenure, after the fog of election period had died down (and notably where there wasn’t the same urgency to play to politics), there were numerous points in which you could see Gillingham publically and visibly being moved towards a change in perspective by what he was finding and what he was seeing in this new found role. The fact that this change in mindset likely pushed against the desires of a portion of his votership (the Christian right) to me was a welcome indication that this, at least by appearance, seemed authentic. It’s a good trait to have in a mayor regardless of their politics.
2. When Gillingham first took office, I not only feared the potential igniting of that south of the border rhetoric bleeding south, primarily by way of Alberta and Saskatchewan, now creeping eastward, I also assumed that he was going to be another mayor beholden to “taxes and roads” and short on vision. If Gillingham surprised me, its in his uneexpected commmitment to our downtown core. For me, this is always the foundation for everything else. Without this the city suffers. If you actually peruse his list of promises and accomplishments, so many revolve around the core area: portage and main, investments, business innovation, relocating the transit cooridor, Portage Place, a surge in focus on residential neighborhoods, parks, and of course the different more nuanced policies and visions surrounding these things. Again, one doesn’t need to agree with all of these changes to recognize that he demonstrated an ability to remove obstacles for the things he cared about, which is a significant virtue for any mayor to hold.
I admit, I haven’t appreciated the ways he has indulged the political warring as of late, a sign that actual competition entered the race. It also does seem to bring to the surface another side of his public face. Rumours of the age old “inner circle” still being alive and well? The headlines about key counsilors resigning? All of this could be indicative of untold “issues.” To be fair, these are the same things that follow any mayors tenure. Even the inoffessensive Bowman, the very same one who came in promising to dismantle the inner circle Katz supposedly built was a target of the very same criticism.
And for that matter, the fact that there were zero women running for Mayor until very recently remains a deeply frustrating issue in this still reigning boys club.
For the purposes of this campaign, the main competition is the infamous Kevin Klein. Beyond his name bearing close resemblance to that famous product line from Back to the Future, Klein is the legitimate right leaning candidate, complete with shady connections, big business ties, cozy relations with the U.S., and a big name reaching long into Winnipegs history, unforunately alongside Peter Nygard, who is labeled Canada’s version of Epstein. Say what you will about Klein (and there is plenty to say), but he knows his way around the political arena and brings a degree of professionalism to his credentials.
He’s not the only right leaning candidate. There is also Mike Vogiatzakis, who has been kicking around for the last 8 years in some form or fashion. I confess, while its uncertain how serious we need to take him as a candidate, he is the one I am far more concerned about and been vocal against. Part of the reason is, unlike Klein, he is far more immersed in what we might call the interests of the alt right. Even if he only gains a fraction of the votes, he stands to do the most damage when it comes to firing up that portion of Winnnipeg voters, and given the force of his ties, not even limited to just Winnipeg voters.
In my opinion he is dangerous because, where someone like Klein is a predictable beast, he presents to the public eye as a rogue entry, at least in perception. He comes with a controversial record of failed poliical aspirations over the last 8 years, a publically available list of corrupt and charged business practices, present accusations of sexual abuse, and the primary endorsements of shady personalities, including Patrick Allard, someone whom I have sparred with over the years for his extreme ultra right wing christian nationalist interests (partly because he’s in my neighborhood and voting block, and because he is extremely vocal about it). Mike V lives outside of the city (although he has said he will move to the city if elected), and has fostered momentum from far right leaning voices reaching beyond our provincial lines. One of the very first things he included in his platform was a public statement about how he was bringing his faith into his agenda. A little further down the road he was caught fabricating photos and penning a false narrative on his social media campaign page in a demonstrable and outright act of lying.
All of those things should raise red flags, but he is now being raised up by the Christian right (a segment I well recognize on his threads) as the “non-politician” who is going to restore Christian family values to our city, get tough on crime and immigration, put the money back in the pockets of businesses, and raise Winnipeg up to its once recognized but long buried economic glory. And oh ya, while he’s at it he’s going to help people avoid getting speeding tickets and skirt around red tape (yes, that is tongue and cheek). I say all that to suggest, if this brings up images of a certain red haired personality south of the border, you wouldn’t be the first one thinking that, even if this faction has grown awfully tired of that name being cited at seemingly every turn (they’ve formed their own rhetoric and everything for what is being called a syndrome). Mike V’s (very public and heavily controlled) votership has already been raising up narratives of conspiracy theory (they planted Klein to try and sink V’s campaign because they were afraid he was gainging traction and might win), In their eyes, we are all afraid, to quote a line I’ve seen repeated at nauseum on his election page. Images of “taking back our city” positioning a saintly figure with a figurative bible against a burning city have become common place, invoking a kind of holy war by those long suffering victims of the left, finally standing up and taking their crosses in a charged affront. As someone who spends a lot of time invested in the life of our downtown, it saddens me, because the most powerful force is that of perception. The biggest thing our downtown is in fact the perception, not the reality. Perception not only keeps people from participating in ts life, but it keeps people from actually understanding what the issues (and there are issues, to be sure) are.
I wish all of this could be considered hyperbolic. It’s not. The memes of Winnipeg as a burning cesspool adorned with flames and the rhetoric of “zombieland” are endless. The all too familiar rhetoric is abundant. We know how this works. We know where it leads. We know the outcome. And yet it keeps persisting. A part of the fabric of our modern age.
Just to be clear, my point here is not to lobby for a different “politic” as the answer. My point is call out a unique force on the narrative front. The reason marrying politics to faith is such a problem is not a lobbying for a “secular” ethic in its stead (to borrow a poorly defined and applied word), but because it inhibits our ability to recognize the narratives we have bound ourselves to. For the alt right, it is a political system that save us, justified by making it synonymous with Christian values. Thus, if it desires to bring an alternative “narrative” into the sphere of our shared secular politics, it has crippled its ability to do so. It has, in fact, given the politics an authoriity it does not have. It has simply become another side of a flawed and incoherent worldview.
All we have left at that point is politics.
Politics without a narrative.
And just to be fully clear on this front, I do think the rhetoric and implications of one political side is far greater than the other “as an authoirty.” And my grounds for saying that is my assessment of history. If we cannot help but be partcipants in politics, I will always side with the clearest line towards “love of neighbor” policies that allow me to actively recognize where I stand in resistance to the Powers and its allusions to the liberated self. But of course, what frees me to do this is recognizing that no politic actually has the authority to define how I respond in acts of love towards the very real challenges of living together. What it does have the power toi do is muddy the playing field so that I cannot tell the difference between politics and a guiding narrative. And that to me is always the biggest danger.
The Stories of my Life 