The problem with regarding people as “moist robots,” as the Z Man puts it, is not that people aren’t actually moist robots. Glaring falsehood is a feature, not a bug, of every grand sociological theory this side of Original Sin. Try it for yourself:
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.
Nope. Sorry, Tom, but every single substantive claim in that sentence is wrong, and obviously so. Men aren’t created equal, life obviously isn’t a right, both life and liberty are alienated all the time, calling “the pursuit of Happiness” a “right” is incoherent, etc. As slogans go, it’s not the worst ever to have rallied troops, but as a statement about the human condition it’s absurd. For proof, see American history — yeah, ALL of it — 1865 to present.
It is not the consciousness of men that determines their being, but, on the contrary, their social being that determines their consciousness.
Ponderous Teutonic prose keeps this from being as obviously false as Jefferson’s nice plain English, but it’s still bollocks. It’s an A+ example of the Ishmael Effect. How did you, Karl Marx, get your consciousness past the limits of your social being, in order to tell us that no one’s consciousness can ever get past his social being? As an explanation for why Marxist regimes are always police states, it’s aces — nothing changes your social being like a decade or two in the gulag — but as a social theory it’s bunk.
____ is just a social construction.
The parts that aren’t biology, anyway. So, you know, maybe 25%, tops.
And so on down the line. The social contract assumes rough equality between individuals in the State of Nature, a falsity inside an absurdity. Anarchism assumes people naturally cooperate. Aristotle, who famously defined man as the political animal, also assumed that man was the rational animal. Spend five minutes on social media and tell me how that holds up.
The danger, then, isn’t the error per se. It’s that the error becomes fundamental to one’s identity.
Everyone who has “taken the red pill” knows: It hurts. Those of us who were once “CivNats” never thought of ourselves that way. We thought we were just Americans — outgoing, generous, trustworthy within limits, maybe a little stuffy, but fundamentally decent. We thought everyone else was, too. Our default setting was “give ’em the benefit of the doubt.” We wanted a nice house on a quite street in the ‘burbs because that’s nice, and we assumed that everyone else wants nice things, too.
It’s one hell of a punch to the gut to discover that lots of people aren’t nice, that they think nice people are suckers, that in fact they hold the very idea of “nice” in the deepest contempt. That there are lots of people who live by the mobster’s mantra — “fuck you, pay me” — but they think even less of you when you actually pay. So you build delusions for yourself — “they live like that down in the ghetto,” you tell yourself, “because they just don’t know any better. More education, in better schools, with more job opportunities…that’ll fix it.”
But it won’t. They live like that because they want to live like that. Spend five minutes down there, and you’ll see people going way out of their way to increase their own squalor and misery. A freshly-painted house will draw vandals from three ‘hoods over. A kid who does his homework will be beaten by his classmates. It’s all by choice. That’s the red pill, and it goes down hard.
Or it doesn’t go down at all. Sometimes the error is just too fundamental to one’s identity. The believers in moist robot theory — those who believe men are just “automata inconvenienced with a soul,” as was said about the tsar’s bureaucrats — are, I’m increasingly coming to believe, Irredeemable. They’ve embraced the error to such an extent that they try to make it truest for themselves.
Think about it: It takes a certain type of person to be frustrated, intimidated, stressed out by the mere fact of choice. A person who experiences real emotional distress when forced to choose between Froot Loops and Cap’n Crunch isn’t (just) a namby-pamby sissy. This is a person who desperately wishes he was a meat robot, so that the programmer could tweak his algorithm and he’d never have to face another decision.
Only a certain type of person could write a book called Escape from Freedom. It says it’s about Nazis, of course, but it’s actually a perfect portrait of a cultural marxist. The Sane Society, the same author informs us, shall only be achieved when all those frightening decisions are made for us by a benevolent authority.
So, too, in economics. Guys like Tyler Cowen write as if people are nothing more than culture-less, deracinated consumer units, because he himself longs to be a culture-less, deracinated consumer unit. Calling someone like Cowen an “American” is like saying “he has brown hair” — true, but meaningless, as it’s just an accident of birth. He desperately wants to be a rootless cosmopolitan consumer, so he writes as if we all are. He’s nominally on the “Right,” but he means the same thing as the nominal “Left” when he pens another paean to “diversity” — isn’t it great that you can get Thai-Bavarian-Eskimo-Cuban fusion cuisine on the Upper West Side?
tl;dr — as the man said, SJWs always project. They long to be meat robots. They try desperately to make themselves into meat robots. And since we the people only matter as stagehands in the all-encompassing show that is their pwecious widdle selves, they try to make us into meat robots, too.
I don’t think it’s curable, comrades. Sadly, I think the only way to “help” folks who feel themselves to be “automata inconvenienced with a soul” is to “convenience” them. I hope I’m wrong, but I guarantee you that thanks to “people” like them, we’re going to learn the answer soon enough.Loading Likes...