In Tribune, historian Anton Jäger argues that we have exited the era of “post-politics” of the mid-1990s, when technocrats were supposed to handle everything and the republic was largely demobilized and returned to a period of widespread political contestation—a “permanent Dreyfus Affair.” But unlike the politics of the 20th century—organized through the forms of mass parties, unions, and various civil society organizations—politics today is intense but highly fragmented:
An era of ‘post-politics’ has clearly ended. Yet instead of a re-emergence of the politics of the twentieth century — complete with a revival of mass parties, unions, and workplace militancy — it is almost as if a step has been skipped. Those that were politicised by the era marked by the Financial Crash will remember when nothing, not even the austerity policies imposed in its wake, could be described as political. Today, everything is politics. And yet, despite people being intensely politicised in all of these dimensions, very few are involved in the kind of organised conflict of interests that we might once have described as politics in the classical, twentieth-century sense.
Jäger identifies this variation on the postmodern condition as “hyperpolitics:”
In many ways we can describe this period as a transition from ‘post’ to ‘hyper-politics’, or the re-entry of politics into society. Yet our new ‘hyper-politics’ is also distinct in its specific focus on interpersonal and personal mores, its incessant moralism and incapacity to think through collective dimensions to struggle. In this sense, ‘hyper-politics’ is what happens when ‘post-politics’ ends, but not on terms familiar to us from the twentieth century — the form political conflict takes in the absence of mass politics. Questions of what people own and control are increasingly replaced by questions of who or what people are, replacing the clash of classes with the collaging of identities.
Ultimately, this fragmentation of politics is determined by the ongoing fragmentation of society, brought about by changes in the structures of employment and association:
An age of changing employment contracts and growing self-employment does not stimulate long and lasting bonds within organisations. In its place comes a curious combination of the horizontal and the hierarchical, with leaders who manage a loose group of zealots without ever subscribing to a clear party framework…Rather than a mobile ‘mass’, today’s QAnon troops and anti-lockdown protests look like ‘swarms’: a group responding to short and powerful stimuli, driven by charismatic influencers and digital demagogues. Anyone can join a Facebook group with QAnon sympathies; as with all online media, the price of membership is very low, the costs of exit even lower.
I think Jäger is onto something here and I would like to propose a complementary concept to “hyperpolitics.” A thought I’ve had since the beginning of the “populist era” is that this is could be called an “ideological warlord era” or “era of ideological warlords.” The Warlord Era was a period in Chinese history from 1916 to 1928 where the entire country fragmented into statelets and different regions were controlled by military cliques. These warlords had very limited conceptions of their interests: they were ideologically incoherent, preferring instead to jealousy guard their own territory and power. No single warlord was able to dominate or lead the system: they would ally with one another briefly to stop a threat and then turn on each other quickly afterwards.
In the contemporary United States, the cultural-political terrain is divided by ideological warlords, that can briefly lead or organize little armies of supporters but can’t accomplish any kind of hegemony. For instance, look at the importance of the Mercers, the Kochs, and the DeVos families on the Right. (Or, the Trumps for that matter.) Or, more controversially, Soros on the left. In the absence of any social consensus, many conflicts involve a prominent figure taking an ideological stance and hoping to rally enough support to make it hefty enough to be effective. Look, for instance at the battle now taking place over Spotify: it is mediated through the high personal profiles and differing cultural cachets of Joe Rogan and Neil Young. Elon Musk practices this form of cultural warlordism as well, attracting a flock of supporters with his particular form of personal brand-politics. We can also see this in its pre-ideological manifestation in rabid fandoms, like those around K-Pop stars. Another sense of “identity politics” is revealed here: the identity of the “warlord” directly embodies a cultural or ideological position.
Although these numerous “warlords” may team up periodically, and may even represent similar ideological and cultural tendencies, no group or individual has been able to achieve hegemony, convincing the society at large that they stand for something greater and more universal than their own limited interests. How would the ideological warlord era end? Obviously, it would require some kind of reunification—but even after Chiang Kai-Shek nominally reunited the country, warlords remained powerful and had to be placated.
This is very insightful. I would argue that some of the most influential ideological warlords are figures far below the level of Koch or Soros though: the YouTube personalities, the professional Twitter activists and many others whose livelihood or social status/role is tied up in their ability to maintain an energized and outraged constituency are a far better fit for the term. Their power isn't the result of external financial resources but is directly related to their ability to maintain a constant sense of mobilization. This results in a much less ideologically coherent structure for mass politics, as it's motivated less by ideology or even mass interest and more by parasocial relationships with a band of followers.
I like this comparison a lot. It reminds of C. Thi Nguyen's writing about how online echo chambers are like cults in the way they involve and require manipulating people's trust. Seems to me that various online grifters are practising their own kind of ideological warlordism in the following way: the collapse of post-politics and the resulting legitimacy crisis for political institutions have created fertile terrain for people to gain followers. Would-be warlords then start randomly exploring the terrain mixing and matching different ideas according to what gets them followers. Social media helps immensely because it gives immediate feedback. So a health blogger realizes he gets tonnes of traffic when he writes about vaccines. Maybe one of his commenters mentions some conspiracy, he looks into that, writes about it, gets more follows and likes and responds to that feedback.
Since the whole process plays out randomly (based on where a would-be warlord starts and what resonates with their audience) these constituencies develop organically and also incoherently. And none of this requires any vision or planning. All that you need to get the process going is a person who wants lots of followers.
Seems like this process in turn shapes the constituencies that people like the Kochs have to appeal to. "The people" have gotten more incoherent because of small-time warlords and as a result, the would-be big time ideological warlords have to be more incoherent themselves and have a harder time establishing hegemonic control.
Now that I've written this comment, this whole thing seems obvious and banal. Anyway, your post generated some new thoughts for me (even if they are mundane and probably wrong). Thanks