I’ve been reading Auron MacIntyre’s The Total State. MacIntyre relies heavily on some ideas of Curtis Yarvin. While I’m not a huge fan of Yarvin, he’s right about detachment from the political:
Detachment is not dissidence. Detachment never resists. It does nothing against any person or institution, legal or illegal, violent or nonviolent. It does not even try to influence public policy or public opinion. It is never angry; it never cares; and it always obeys—both the formal laws, and the informal rules.
Yarvin cribbed this idea (with acknowledgment) from Vaclav Havel’s greengrocer in The Power of the Powerless.
As Yarvin points out, a mere ten years after Havel wrote that essay, he was president of Czechoslovakia.* Likewise, Ceaușescu wasn’t deposed by conventional political protest or violence. Yarvin gives a clue as to why:
Systematic mendacity and poor governance are common comorbidities. The closer a regime feels itself to death, the worse its behavior must become. The worse its behavior gets, the closer it comes to death—and the harder it must work to look good. And every regime, to almost everyone, looks absolutely immortal till the day it dies.
My gradual loss of interest in the immediately political, as opposed to the metapolitcal, has culminated in a calm unconcern about day-to-day political drama. While it is amusing to follow the drama, one can have a negligible effect on its course. Any attempts to do so, e.g., the Electoral Justice Protest of 6JAN2021, accomplished little other than to immiserate the participants.
The Regime is fragile and will fall on its own, perhaps requiring a catalyst to get the party started. Charles Haywood has further thoughts on Regime fragility. The Regime’s response to the upcoming elections in November may provide an indication of just how fragile it is.
*Admittedly, the signatories of Charter 77 were punished by the Czech government. Walesa also suffered consequences for his activism. So, maybe a few public dissidents are required but not a mass movement.