It has been several months now since I saw Gus Van Sant’s Milk. But upon seeing a preview for the film on CNN the other day, I was reminded of one of the things that disturbed me about the film (the other, more general complaint I had had to do with its failure to develop Milk’s character outside the sphere of his political career).
Now, the preview highlighted what seemed to be one of the films rather trite mantras, repeated several times by Milk throughout the film: “You gotta give’m hope! You gotta give’m hope!” What could be more innocent, more warm and fuzzy even, than the invitation to hope—hope for justice, equality, and so on. However, I would argue (against a longstanding tradition to be sure) that when employed within the context of a struggle for social-political emancipation the rhetoric of hope actually serves the interests of those seeking to maintain the status quo. Despite its prevalent use within political discourse today—especially amount liberals like myself—the word hope hardly signifies a secular humanist notion. Rather, its meaning is largely determined by Christian theology, where it signifies the believer’s attitude toward salvation, the time of judgment, the paruosia, God, etc. In its classical formulation, found in Paul’s Epistle to the Romans, it is said that hope always concerns that which is unseen and always yet to come, since, after all, ‘hope that is seen is not hope at all.’ Just as Kant demonstrates that the lack of theoretical (rational) certainty of God’s existence is the condition of possibility for genuine religious faith, so too the futurity and unavailability of what is hoped-for is the condition of possibility of hope. If God showed up for dinner, you’d no longer have the oppurtonity to have faith in God. If emancipation were to occur, you’d no longer be able to hope for it.
One can only hope for that which is in principle yet to come. The problem, then, with the use of hope in political discourse is that deferment, delay and unavailability belong to its very structure. (To cite that all-too-often cited passage from Marx—which, of course, is less of straightforward critique of religion than it is usually made out to be—we might say that it is not religion in general but more precisely its theological principle of hope that is an opiate for the masses.) “So, yes,” the oppressive forces of establishment will say, “please give’m hope
The problem, then, with the use of hope in political discourse is that deferment, delay and unavailability belong to its very structure.
ReplyDeleteYes, but only if you insist on it in a structural scheme, if you try to make a synchronic map of what is an expression of a diachronic situation. Witness the most recent deployment of "hope" in leftist political rhetoric--it is embedded in a particular situation of discontent with governance, and it is this particular situation which gives it potency and possibility. Abstracted from that historical context, it definitely is nothing but flim-flam, but embedded within it, while it certainly runs the risk of political exploitation, it does not necessitate it.
Thanks for your comment, and you make great point (as I would expect!).
ReplyDeleteSure, I agree: hope has been (paradoxically, I think) regarded as a source of inspiration, and thus motivation. But, still, even when regarded diachronically and with an eye toward the current situation, a danger remains: namely, it can function as a sort of rhetorical substitute for action, for actual change. (This logic of substitution is implicitly expressed in Milk's slogan, "You gotta give'm hope"--the insinuation being, "when you can't give them change, you ought to satisfy their desire for change with hope."
I think the passivity implied by hope's logic of substitute is already found its theological determination. Think, for instance, of the way in which hope is bound up with the notion of grace in theological discourse. Grace, the object of hope, represents that which is by definition beyond our power, our initiative, our ability to change ourselves, etc.
I guess it would be interesting to find out how and when hope entered non-religious political discourse and to see if, as I would hypothesize, this was instigated by those who had an interest in preserving the status quo.
Anyways, don't you have a blog...I know you introduced me to the word and concept years ago...Let me know!
While you are, I think, generally right about the theological notion of hope, I'm not convinced that it means the same thing in political discourse, where, as Grant says, the concept entails the possibility of attainment with human effort (as opposed to the strict impossibility of human initiative in some Christian accounts of grace). Think about it this way: without hope, you are hopeless, and hopelessness means no possibility for attaining the desired outcome. So of course, political action requires at least some element of hope. Yes, there is always the danger that it might serve as a substitute for political action. But for Marx, religion is able to act as an opiate only because it defers to the "next world" what can and should be attained in this world, thereby maintaining the status quo in this world. Milk is certainly doing no such thing. Milk is less like Paul, and more like that great Apostle to the Jamaicans:
ReplyDeleteMost people think
Great God will come from the skies
Take away everything
And make everybody feel high
But if you know what life is worth
You will look for yours on earth
And now you see the light
Stand up for your rights
Jah!
Yes, I love that song. But lest we forget that Paul was interested in this world too, we ought to recall that the parousia was thought to be imminent...to come at any moment, like a thief in the night, etc. I agree here with Jack Caputo, who, glossing Derrida I think, claims that the arrival would ruin everything. Of course, that goes for Paul, not for Milk. Thanks for your comment...you're probably right after all.
ReplyDelete