August 6, 2020
How to Be a Free Writer: Intellectual Freedom under Capitalism
Virtually every man-made thing you see around you right now is likely produced because of capitalism. It’s capitalism that has allowed me to write this post on my Chinese-made mini laptop, and you to read it on your (almost certainly) Chinese-made device. “Awesome!” you might think. “Capitalism is freedom, then! You’re a free writer and I’m a free reader.”
No. Capitalism isn’t freedom.
It feels like that because both you and I happen to be – for the time being – near the fulcrum of the seesaw of economic exchange. And this seesaw isn’t well balanced, either. On the one end sits a hippo (capital), and on the other end half a billion ants (workers) trying to keep the thing from imploding. You and I are somewhere around the fulcrum. And because of that, most of us are stupid enough to think we’re more related to the hippo, rather than the ants.
But that’s the bubble-gum, pink-clad, rough love of capitalism. Like every system of dominance – think religion – it promises you heaven but makes sure to show you hell if you don’t fall in line. “Oh, so you don’t like the way things are, then? Well, why don’t you go and live in [insert sweatshop country]?”
Capitalism is an economic system predicated on injustice and psychological conditioning. We are all accomplices; the system works thanks to us.
How can you be a free writer in such a framework?
To Be a Free Writer, Let Go of Dependence
The quickest, surest way to ideologically enslave someone – and that’s the only true enslavement – is to make them depend on something. Writers are no exception, and they will whore themselves for a few clicks, sales, or likes.
In the context of writing, few things look more pathetic to me than authors trying to promote themselves on Twitter or some similar bastion of inanity and mediocrity.
They try to be witty, they try to show how virtuous they are, and – above all – they try to please everybody.
Why?
But because pleasing others – being a hypocrite, in other words – in a capitalist framework is one way to make money. It’s not the primary way (that would be destruction and immiseration), but it’s the way most readily available to Jane/Joe Author. That’s particularly the case if they still haven’t realized the game is rigged and try to play by its rules.
Free Writers and Free Readers
Here’s a quick tip on how, as an author, you can dramatically improve the realism of your characters as well as the inevitability of your narratives: Write yourself through your characters, project your own emotions, thoughts, and states of mind (your affect, in other words) through your narratives.
What’s that got to do with free writers and capitalism?
In that I just realized I’ve talked about this through my fiction. Just as I’ve talked about our perception of fate or poverty through my novels, I’ve also talked about intellectual freedom.
Here’s an excerpt from Illiterary Fiction:
Without being asked to, the young bartender refills Paul’s glass with a bit more wine. “I think what you’re doing is important,” he then adds. “None of these people would ever hear Shakespeare if it weren’t for you, today. Despite the purpose, I think your task is still a noble one. You provide an intellectual service.”
Paul shakes his head with a sarcastic smirk splattered on his face.
“Intellectuals who sell their intellect are no longer intellectuals,” he retorts drinking some wine. “They are whores.”
Now, let’s clarify one thing…
I’m not telling you not to market or sell your books. If I did, I would be a vile hypocrite myself, since I also sell and promote my own novels – though still, I pay attention to the ways and methods I use, so that I maximize my freedom.
No, I’m not a free writer either.
But I’m conscious of not being free – not entirely, at least. And I’m conscious of the steps I need to keep taking to maximize my authorial freedom.
Is There Anything to Be Done?
That depends on you. Self-delusion is a viable strategy for vast numbers of people. It’s just easier for most people to ignore something unpleasant and convince themselves it doesn’t apply to them.
Just in case you think I’m being arrogant saying this, I’ll remind you once more that we’re in the same boat; I’m not a free writer, and – very likely – neither are you. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you can take action if that’s something you’re interested in.
Most people ignore something unpleasant because they don’t want to act on the knowledge. But if you know you’re not a free writer – consciously know – and you still find basically nothing wrong with it, pat yourself on the back and carry on. It’s a fully legitimate option.
8 Comments
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Brilliant article, Chris, and I’ll have a lot to comment on shortly. I need to collect my thoughts first to do justice to your excellent and timely thoughts. Back soon.
“You and I are somewhere around the fulcrum. And because of that, most of us are stupid enough to think we’re more related to the hippo, rather than the ants.”
I can’t tell you how much I love this analogy. Spot on and very visual. First of all, very few people realize the most obvious thing: the essence of Capitalism is CAPITAL and the role it plays in the system.
However, my answer is not an analysis of Capitalism as a system and the effect it has on everyone, including writers. What I am trying to comment on is the question of intellectual freedom (under any system).
It has many aspects but, for me, it is a question of self esteem and pride. And this freedom needs to be in your mind first before it even manifests in your actions (like selling and promoting your work.)
My method of either is a simple “take it or leave it”. I solicit feedback from readers so I can learn from it, but don’t actively try to sell them to the public. I have distributed a few copies to local bookstores and sell a few once in a while, but that’s about it.
I don’t write for ‘fame and fortune’, I write for the pleasure the act of creation gives me. And with that attitude, I am completely free to write anything I want, any way I want to,
I am fully following you advice to “Write yourself through your characters, project your own emotions, thoughts, and states of mind (your affect, in other words) through your narratives.”
As far as self delusion is concerned, I was cured of even the temptation when I was 18 years old, by Aldous Huxley’s merciless irony.
You referred to self esteem and pride, very likely meaning what I often refer to as “self-respect”. Indeed, many of the world’s woes – both individually and collectively – would be a thing of the past if people had a bit more self-respect. Self-respect is when you look in the mirror and you tell yourself “I’m better than being servile to Joe Employer out of fear”, “I’m better than being mean to Jane Ex-Girlfriend because I was hurt”, “I’m better than begging Joe Reader to buy my book”. Self-respect is our individual, custom-made, infallible (let’s ponder for a moment why), pocket-size code of ethics that we carry with us. Self-respect is the purest form of “I” available to us, the version of ourselves we would be if we weren’t scared, ideologically enslaved, or conditioned.
Another way of putting it would be: when looking into the mirror, I can tell myself that I am not a whore, prostituting myself so other people would like me and pay me – The important things is that I like myself even if nobody else does.
William Shakespeare — ‘This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.’
I have to say that editing a journalist’s 4-years research into prostitution, that we make it out to be something it is not. You did not fall for such trappings: prostitution is something one is forced into, not one does of one’s own accord. In this regard it is a much similar account to life under capital’s sociometabolism.
I’ve been recently invited to translate two books, one by a historian and another by a Latin writer – the difference screams at me: the contemporary scholar writes in such diluted, easily digestible terms it feels almost offensive to translate the text as is; the classic poet wrote with such complexity translating it feels impossible (especially considering it is occultist writings we’re on about). But I can’t help but sense dignity, a head held up high against a falling (and failing) world in both cases: one for discussing some difficult topics of 20th century history, the other for saying things forbidden in fascinating metre and rhythm.
On another note, how close or far would you say contemporary Greek is to antique and classical Greek? (Think Aeschylus, Sappho, Alceus, I’m more interested in lyric poets than epics, but still…)
Contemporary Greek and ancient Greek are basically two different languages. True, there are tons of commonalities, but there are also many differences, both in vocabulary and, more importantly, in form and syntax.
Of course it’s a continuum: The more recent Koine Greek (e.g. used in the New Testament) should be fairly understandable by experienced modern Greek speakers, especially if the context is known. Classical Greek (e.g. used by Plato and tragedians) is more difficult to understand, though again a determined speaker could somewhat figure out what’s going on. Archaic Greek, on the other hand (e.g. Homer) is very opaque to someone who has not received any kind of ancient Greek training.
I’m not sure what’s the situation today, but when I went to school, we were only given some rudimentary courses on the ancient Greek language. All the ancient Greek texts were offered translated into modern Greek.
I’m probably not the most suitable person to speak on the ancient Greek language, but based on my basic knowledge, I’d say ancient Greek is – compared to modern Greek – a richer, more diverse, but also more complex language to master. As in most cases – and as you aptly explained – translating such texts into their modern equivalent definitely removes a layer of meaning.
I asked because I simply love classic languages. Greek, Persian, and Sanskrit are the ones I’m mostly passionate about at the moment, but a friend has been pulling me towards Arabic too (and I still have to regain my Latin skills). There are only three period/styles of poetry I can stand: classical antique, baroque, and romantic. All else feels very weird and awful to read, it affects me almost physically. So I need these languages. I need them. I NEED THEM! Proceeds to go insane.
Haha, I applaud your enthusiasm – and feel a bit envious of it, too. I wish I had the patience to get into ancient Greek 🙂