I came upon his writing about my appearance on Newsnight, my New Statesman issue, and the subsequent furore. It felt like finding out that Conor McGregor had my back in a pub carpark ruck. Brad’s analysis of the coverage, of my commentary and activism, weeded out the confusion and shame that I had felt having been unable to be objective, since I was literally the subject, and helped me to see where I had intuitively been right, why I had been so anxiously and forensically condemned and what I could learn from the process. The essay is included in this volume and I can scarcely read it without being once more engorged with the righteousness that got me into all that bother in the first place.
When I decided to launch a new podcast in which I interviewed important and innovative thinkers, in order to colloquialize and popularize their views, Brad, in part the inspiration for the venture, was the inaugural guest. Since then Naomi Klein, Al Gore, Adam Curtis, Jordan Peterson, Brian Cox, Paul Gilroy, Yuval Harari, and many other great and illustrious guests have featured. But none have Brad’s druidic ability to conjure up a complex opinion on basically anything. He must see the world in numbers and codes, the helix of our DNA must refract off the lenses of his glasses. Brad is making critical theory something more than an insular academic pursuit; he is a taut and romantic Prometheus, seizing sizzling branches of hot wisdom and laying them before us.
I’ve since hung out with Brad (who I now see as a good friend) a fair bit, making podcasts, discussing addiction, working on TV shows, meeting each other’s children, and his excitement and sharp triangulating intellect are as powerful in person as in these pages. Within these compelling and yet accessible set of essays and conversations, I hope you will experience the brilliance, originality, warmth and vigor that first attracted me to Brad’s work. A great teacher must engage in plain sorcery, this can be almost shamanic: to be able to occupy many worlds simultaneously, the world of academic expertise, rarefied and inaccessible, to be able to reach out and convey without compromise challenging ideas, viscerally, with humor and humanity. This is more than a neat trick, it is magic — power that we do not understand.
At this time, when the end of liberalism, it seems, will inevitably herald a new and dangerous populism — the full implications of which we are only starting to see emerge before our unbelieving eyes — it is important that Brad Evans’s work, his compassion, his ability to tell an alternative story to the one of clamouring anthemic dread (more violence, more fear, more atrocities) is supported and spread. We need a politics that will serve the population, not further impede and incarcerate it. And Brad, with his love of popular culture, his busy inquisition into art, media, and football, has precisely the perspective that will be required to oppose the rise of hateful politics.
When we first met, Brad gave me a copy of Alice in Wonderland, from his daughter to mine. He said at the time it was the best book of political theory ever written (he also deals with the reasons why in these insightful pages). I hope beyond hope that our daughters will grow up in a world where nuance and complexity are investigated in order that we may experience truth, in all its beauty and sadness. I hope that Brad’s mission reaches the many lost and confused people in our world that are contemplating the grim alternatives to love, openness, and trust. I hope you will, within these pages, discover the excitement and optimistic thrill that Brad’s writing gave me when I discovered it. A great teacher gives us access to the dormant wisdom within us, this is what Brad Evans has done for me and I hope, through these pages, he does it for you too.
Introduction
Henry A. Giroux
WHAT BRAD EVANS CALLS “The Atrocity Exhibition” no longer hides in the shadows of power and ideological deception. Authoritarianism and the expanding architecture of violence is on the rise not only in countries such as Poland, Hungary, India, and Turkey but also in the United States — a country that, however erratic, has prided itself on its longstanding dream and embrace of democratic rights. Democratic institutions, principles, and passions are under siege not only by the vicious forces of neoliberal capitalism but also by a war culture shaped by resurgent fascism. Unbridled capitalism — with its totalizing belief in market values as a governing template for all social life — inflicts mass misery and unimaginable suffering on its populace as it shifts massive amounts of wealth and resources to the financial elite. At the same time, those in power criminalize an increasing number of social problems — turning, for instance, the war on poverty into a war on the poor, using violence as a tool to address social challenges such as homelessness, school truancy, financial debt, drug addiction, and mental health issues. Atrocity Exhibition underscores that politics in the age of neoliberal fascism has become an extension of war; the latter is the template for shaping all relations while state and non-state violence become the medium for enforcing such dynamics.
As its welfare function is eviscerated, the state takes on a greater role in using punishment as an organizing tool to shape all aspects of the social order. Democratic practices are now replaced by genuine horrors as the dreams of a better future turn into ever-present nightmares. The endless production of inequality, poverty, and state violence, accompanied by a growing culture of fear, precarity, and cruelty, have unleashed the mobilizing furies of fascism at a social level. Paroxysms of unchecked rage displace criticism of the genuine horrors of capitalism. Neoliberalism increasingly fuels a right-wing populism that willingly indulges the symbols, language, and logic that echoes fascist history.
As Evans makes clear throughout this book, human beings are now transformed into capital and thus subject to the dictates of privatization, deregulation, commodification, the celebration of self-interests, and a notion of freedom divorced from any sense of social bonds or moral responsibility. All relations are subject to market values and all transactions are wedded to the logic of exchange value and capital accumulation. Such a neoliberal order reduces one’s fate solely to a privatized matter of individual responsibility. In return, this reduction is further diminished to questions of character, individual choice, and a faux notion of resilience. Missing from this discourse is any whiff of injustice or reference to larger structural and systemic forms of oppression. Politics now dissolves into pathology.
Older narratives tied to the social contract and welfare state are replaced by the new narratives of racial and social cleansing, which exhibit a disdain for democratic notions of solidarity, community, compassion, and empathy. Out of this disgust, if not hatred, for the basic institutions and principles of democracy, a new white nationalist narrative of disposability emerges that embraces symbolic and visceral violence aimed at those considered tainted by blood, soil, religion, race, and ethnicity. Evans understands this attack on democracy, but he also reveals the possibility of a critical and democratic community: he wants to show how the imperatives of power, war, and violence command the visions of society and produce a radically individualized, competitive, and militant subject and what it means to challenge and transform this dystopian imaginary.
Neoliberal fascism produces a new kind of devastation, particularly in the United States. It is marked by escalating poverty and misery among large sections of the public: relentless violence; an epidemic of social isolation; the opioid crisis; mass shootings; the growing presence of the police in all public spheres; and a culture of fear that strengthens the security state. These atrocities move between two modalities: spectacle and brutality. An aesthetics of depravity and an endless display of captivating spectacles turn hyper-violence into a form of sport, maximizing the pleasure of violence by giving it a fascist edge, while the real and visceral brutalities of unimaginable violence continue — everything from the mass murder of over 2,600 people after the Twin Towers terrorist strike to the murderous attacks on the 43 college students in Iguala, Guerrero, Mexico, to the endless killing of the innocent women and children as portrayed in the work of Mexican artist Chantal Meza and Gottfried Helnwein.
Violence no longer shocks; it feeds the news cycles and becomes fodder for Hollywood blockbusters all the while numbing a wider public to the conditions that make its existence and trivialization possible. Atrocities have become routine, normalized in the United States — landscapes of horror on exhibit for a social order that elevates violence to its
