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Welcome to the Desert of the Real!

By Slavoj Zizek

Verso, 2002, 154 pp.

Reviewed by Christopher Deliso

Not only a Slovene, Slavoj Zizek is also one of today’s leading critical theorists. As the book goes on, we are reminded of the former increasingly often, while also forced to wonder about the veracity of the latter, as the barrage of rhetorical questions and Balkan analogies step up.

Welcome to the Desert of the Real! is a book that starts well, middles tepidly, and ends somewhere it didn’t have to. This is not to say that there is no internal logic or consistency to it; just that concluding with a grand call for Europe to be united against American hegemony takes the discussion to another realm- or, it makes it far more useful- than the one Zizek pledges to explore in the beginning, of the West’s “passion for the Real” in a virtual world of caffeine-free coffee, alcohol-free beer, and the like, something which is far less useful and arguably for that reason far more interesting in understanding the media and political reactions to 9/11 and the Afghan war. The real question here, of course, is that regarding the role of intellectuals today: are they supposed to try to change things, or just to observe? Unfortunately, Slavoj Zizek too often tries to call for action based on his observations.

The author’s case is not particularly helped by the fact that his book’s title overtly borrows from a memorable line in the Matrix. Even before the makers of that film symbolically inserted the title of a text by theoretical cohort Jean Baudrillard for their own purposes, critical theory has been tarred by the dreaded brush of ‘pop philosophy.’ Zizek here has more than enough opportunity to prove that this is a specious allegation but unfortunately refers to far too many films, as if they were common knowledge and as if the reader has already come to the same understanding about their significance. This reliance on the realm of simulation for examples, as opposed to “unreal” real events, shows one of the book’s limitations: that is, that it merely applies the author’s traditional social commentary to the post-9/11 world. Although the author often uses this method to make astute judgments, its remit is not sufficiently wide as to cover the necessary terrain. And so the new world of terrorism is only partially delineated. This is not the kind of overarching survey that one might want, but that said it is an interesting read.Of course, the book is bound to certain limitations brought about by its ephemerality. The publisher, Verso, included it as part of a concerted 3-book effort designed “…to comprehend the philosophical meaning of September 11 and (will) leave untouched none of the prevailing views currently propagated.” The series, which also includes The Spirit of Terrorism by Jean Baudrillard and Paul Virilio’s Ground Zero, was purposefully unveiled on the first anniversary of Sept. 11, 2001. Its general context is thus 9/11 itself, the bombing of Afghanistan, the now long-forgotten anthrax scare and Israeli-Palestinian developments up until the middle of 2002. This inevitably means that now, almost a year and a half since their publication, these books are a little bit dated, or at least refer to things that are no longer seminal or all-inclusive.

An example is Zizek’s reference to the US bombing of Afghanistan, something that occurred largely from high altitudes or with the use of proxy ground troops- thereby making it relatively bloodless for the Americans. The depiction of this as exemplary of this kind of warfare as “virtual” is quite apt; however, positing it as the war of the future has turned out to be premature, given the unfolding Iraqi quagmire in which the Americans have seen more than a little bloodshed. If anything, this jarring experience of the real is fueling a nostalgia for getting the virtual back again, and fast (whereas Zizek talks often of the nostalgia for the real as fairly obvious in today’s largely virtual world).

Whether real or not, events change quickly, and the fact that this book was published in September of 2002 plays tricks on the author retrospectively. Zizek maintains that fighting both “vain” American red-blooded patriotism as well as “Leftist” America-bashing is an urgent task; however, these manifestations of two of the earliest reactions to 9/11 have been, if not superceded, at least modified and re-arranged through the natural and inevitable workings of time. We read that “the position to adopt” is now “…to accept the necessity of the fight against terrorism, but to redefine and expand its terms so that it will also include (some) American and other Western powers’ acts: the choice between Bush and bin Laden is not our choice; they are both ‘Them’ against Us” (p. 51).

The book’s biggest problem perhaps rests, therefore, on personal pronouns. Who is this ‘Us’ so enthusiastically forwarded? And what would ‘We’ be doing, anyway? Apparently we are not Leftists, but nevertheless find arch-enemies in the “populist” Right and also have some part in a “global network of resistance” (p. 148) to encroaching American capitalism. We are also- judging from Zizek’s long and impassioned defense of the Palestinians- on their side as well as a matter of morality. For that matter, we have a shared sense of ethics (the word ‘obscene’ is used more than once to describe statements deplored by the author, as if we all already agree). Most ominously, we are also fully on board the bandwagon of human rights and humanitarian intervention, the one that rolled over Serbia not long ago.

Indeed, if the Balkans has been the graveyard of so many causes, rebellions and human victims already, why not reserve a plot there for philosophers, too? Zizek’s unprovoked defense of Slovenia, tacit support for NATO’s bombing of Kosovo, and hatred of Serbia and especially Milosevic makes him sound like some mutated combination of Milan Kucin, Wesley Clark, George Soros and Carla del Ponte. It is true that philosophers appear incredibly sweet, like gurgling infants, when they naпvely apply their speculative gifts to hard politics. However, we cannot excuse Zizek of ignorance here; a former Yugoslav and alleged Balkanian, he himself states that he was offered a cabinet post education or culture in 1990’s-Slovenia but turned it down for being “ridiculous.” There is indeed something to be said for this, in the context of simulation and virtuality, which would necessarily despair of any sort of real political application as being ineffectual; one compromises, even bastardizes ideals when realizing them. As such, a pure-power job like top cop or spymaster would seem the appropriate realpolitik remedy for such jaundiced types.

Having said this, one wonders how Zizek could have the faith that he evidently does, that politicians can and have based actionable judgments on the noble concepts of human rights and democracy. Take, for example, his view on Bosnia. Zizek implicitly denies that Izetbegovic was as “nationalistic” as Milosevic or Tudjman because

“…at some point, at least, the Sarajevo government- with its insistence that, against other ethnic factions, it stood for a multiethnic Bosnia and for the legacy of Tito’s Yugoslavia- did take such an ethical stance against others fighting for their ethnic dominance.” (p. 118)

Apparently “ethical stances” and good intentions are good enough for gullible philosophers. Nowhere does Zizek mention that the Bosnian Muslims had the full power of American PR agencies and government behind them. Izetbegovic knew what to say and how to say it, and that is all. And he does not mention any of the attenuating historical details (”at some point” the Bosnian government had a plan, etc.). What is ignored is that any political affirmation of popular Leftist “multiculturalism”- the kind Zizek schizophrenically deplores early in the book- were and are made for entirely pragmatic and cynical purposes. Indeed, how one could expect a “multiethnic” Bosnia from a man who once wrote a book demanding a “pure” Islamic state in Europe is absolutely mystifying. It is like imagining that the US now really believes in a democratic and multiethnic future for Iraq. The only thinkers who believe such ideas are those trying to sell them- the neocons- who have seemed equally naпve about the peril of realizing ideals.

Yet to continue for a bit on the topic of multi-ethnic states, it is interesting to note that in Zizek’s sweeping one-page history of Afghanistan (p. 55), the country is said to never have “existed in itself,” but to be an artificial “creation of outside forces from the very beginning.” Following “the ‘natural’ lines of ethnic division,” states the Slovene, the various parts of Afghanistan should have been apportioned between their neighboring states. Not that ethnic demarcation of borders is an advisable practice, of course. That would be right-wing populist thinking! Still, it’s a lucky thing that Slovenia is 95 percent Slovene- its claim to “reality” is far more secure.

Unsurprisingly, a rabidly anti-Serbian sentiment pervades. One example is found on pp. 38-9 where Zizek applies his notable talents as a film critic to the Srdjan Dragovic film Pretty Village, Pretty Flame. . The film is apparently an abomination, but not only because it shows the war from a Serbian point of view. While Serb soldiers “mysteriously just pass through burnt-out villages, no killing seems to take place,” says Zizek. However, while “we, the spectators know very well that these villagers must have done their share of killing Muslim civilians, we are not shown this, so that we can continue to believe that their hands are not full of blood.”

Whoah there, big guy! Does the apparent fact that “we, the spectator know very well” have to do with the film itself or more with the fact that the Western viewer has been pre-conditioned to a specific position by years of anti-Serb bias in the media?

Were Zizek to just denounce the film as being “nationalistic,” it would have been alright. However, his criticism rings false precisely because the veneer of a “critical” attitude is all that covers his own seething prejudices- which confirms that we have here yet another case of a Balkanian doing Balkan things in the guise of an unaffiliated, “objective” Westerner. The same fatal flaw can be seen in Zizek’s rousing defense of Slovenia as not being at fault for the break-up of Yugoslavia, and for not being “egotistical” among other things. Yet who really cares? Does the general reader even know where Slovenia is? And what it have to do with the ‘war on terror,’ anyway?

What may actually be concealed here, if we want to be both petty and searching, is a tacit insecure enthusiasm for “Europe” prevalent in this budding EU member, which believes that it has its part to play- and its thinkers, their bit to say- in the overall edification and greater good of this great continent, and the world. This is nothing new, of course; like Canada, Slovenia has always been there. Indeed, Zizek is proud to claim that while relentless American globalization can consume many things, “the foreign body which it effectively cannot assimilate is the European modernity” (p. 146).

This extraordinary comment seems to show not only the lengths to which a representative of an unknown little country will go to in the defense of a continent said country believes it has a part in; it also reminds of the fact that in 2003, Slovenia is while on the way up and aesthetically pleasing, still somewhat of an unknown commodity. Could the culturally-enriching practice of respectful deference to academics with funny-sounding last names, so characteristic of the “post-colonial” and politically correct milieu of the 80’s and 90’s, be rearing its bland head again here? Does Europe offer this intellectual contribution from little Slovenia in bad faith- as guilty fulfillment of a responsibility to give everyone a seat at the table of human rights, free speech and all the other abstract adjective/noun delights?

If so, then Zizek (to his credit) takes vicious advantage of the opportunity given him, even if it is a self-destructive pleasure. Another sentiment that rings hollow is his affirmation of the “poetic justice” of the Kosovo bombardment. He belittles- or, does not even admit- any historical Serbian grievances or other problematic elements of Albanian ‘nationalism’ (his italics, not mine). Apparently, in 1989 the Albanians were the “first targets” of Milosevic who thereupon “vented his wrath” on innocent Slovenes, Croats and Bosnians before returning to finish the former off in 1999- a diabolical process which Clinton and Co. valiantly stopped just in time. Of course, in the same way that modern history does not exist before World War II, current Balkan history does not begin before 1989, either.

Then there is Zizek’s “Carla moment.” He says nothing of the inherent credibility or value of the Hague, but does in fact agree that Milosevic is right to criticize his accusers- yet only in that they should be reprimanded for ever having befriended him in the first place, “for why he was treated for so long as an acceptable partner” (p. 125).

This fulsome speech and rationale for action make it seem that Zizek’s Balkan thought was formed exclusively by the dramatic Western journalism and diplomacy that shaped and sensationalized the wars- though his office in Ljublana was, quite literally, just down the road from reality.

This is a remarkably sudden shift. Indeed, has Slovenia really grown so estranged from its former fellow republics that its leading lights are now viewing events there solely through the Western lens? To make an economic analogy, this would be like the country that exports its raw materials only to have them refined in a foreign state, paying more for buying back the finished product. The fact that Zizek apparently “buys back” his interpretation of events just down the road from the very people he execrates for numerous other sins goes to show the schizophrenic state of Slovenia today, but more than that, the typically disastrous results of letting philosophers anywhere near history or political life.

Thus we hear of the wacky idea (p. 129) for the ‘Kosovization’ and NATO occupation of Palestine, as well as the final pages’ plea for European unity of mind against American aggression and empire-building. Zizek remains in the former case blissfully ignorant of the fallout of the Kosovo intervention (though he was writing 3 years after the fact), and in the latter case blissfully naпve of the European Union’s real function as an economic bloc designed to compete with the US at its own game rather than change the rules for some perceived ethical purposes.

However, it is the perennial illusion of such possibilities that keeps academics in the game, and in their jobs, where they can safely babble away at heart’s content without anyone of importance actually paying attention to them. And so it seems the case with Welcome to the Desert of the Real. While at times provocative, well-reasoned and urgent, the book all too often slides off into opinion, pedanticism and digressions. And, the fact that the present review is so weighted towards non-terror Balkan elements, while understandable in light of this website’s main interest group, does not speak well about the structure and topicality of the work in general. However, the book is long, sleek and fits snugly into the pocket of a Parisian winter coat- where it is probably intended to stay, considering how hard it is to open the pages and how weak the binding is.

In conclusion, we would expect more from a thinker of Zizek’s stature- and definitely more about the “insightful critiques of unfolding events” promised by the publisher, rather than about pop movies and the apparently looped movie in the author’s mind about the real history of Yugoslavia. This is far from ecumenical, but sad to say for the current state of critical thought, it’s almost the best we can do.