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Black mass: apocalyptic religion and the death of utopia. By John Gray.
London: Allen Lane. 2007. 256pp. Index. 18.99. isbn 0 713 99915 0.
In an online review of the book, however, Kenan Malik, while still recognizing the
provocative nature of Grays arguments, differed considerably in his assessment:
Gray has increasingly come to question the very value of the political process. Those who
struggle to change the world, he writes, are merely seeking consolation for a truth they
are too weak to bear. Their faith that the world can be transformed by human will is a
denial of their own mortality. Were all going to die anyway, seems to be the argument,
so why bother with grand schemes of social change? The freest human being, Gray
suggests, is not one who acts on reasons he has chosen for himself, but one who never has
to choosea sentiment that might appear not simply anti-humanist but also disturbingly
authoritarian.9
In part the reaction to Straw dogs was to do with its style: epigrammatic,
aphoristic and often rather disjointed. Some clearly enjoyed that, others found it
grating. But there is no denying that the message was clear: a strong and uncom-
promising naturalism and anti-humanism; humans are no more in command of
their destiny than other animals and we should get used to that and abandon the
hopes that have dominated our philosophies and religions for centuries. It is in
Straw dogs that Gray rst gives vent to the powerful critique of religion that resur-
faces with a vengeance in Black mass. And it is in Straw dogs that the anti-humanist
realism that becomes still more pronounced in Black mass is heard.
So what about Black mass itself ? It unquestionably displays many of Grays
characteristic virtues. It is very well written, packs a considerable theoretical and
8
Jason Cowley, Observer, 15 September 2002.
9
See http://www.kenanmalik.com/essays/pinker_gray.html.
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The exorcist?
rhetorical punch and is rooted in an erudition that is all the more effective for being
lightly worn. The overall argument can be stated briey enough:
Modern politics is a chapter in the history of religion. The greatest of the revolutionary
upheavals that have shaped so much of the history of the past two centuries were episodes
in the history of faithmoments in the long dissolution of Christianity and the rise
of modern political religion. The world in which we nd ourselves at the start of the
new Millennium is littered with the debris of utopian projects, which though they were
framed in secular terms that denied the truth of religion were in fact vehicles for religious
myths [but] it is not only revolutionaries who have held to secular versions of religious
beliefs; so too have liberal humanists who see progress as a slow incremental struggle
(pp. 12).
The rest of the book tries to elaborate and expand on the argument announced
in the rst few pages. Chapter one further outlines Grays thesis concerning the
death of utopia; chapter two discusses the utopian myths surrounding enlight-
enment and terror in the twentieth century. Chapter three traces the manner in
which utopia enters the mainstream with a discussion of the utopia of the new
right and neo-liberalism (to which, as we have seen, the younger John Gray had
himself contributed). Chapter four traces the Americanization of the apocalypse,
especially the rise and character of neo-conservatism. Chapter ve offers Grays
reading of the task of the armed missionaries of the 1990s and early twenty-
rst century, given over to spreading the gospel of democracy and human rights,
culminating, of course, in Iraq.
The nal chapter, entitled Post apocalypse, then asks us to relearn the lessons
of a lost tradition of thought that Gray believes can help us to cope with this
reality: the tradition of realism. The pursuit of utopia, Gray tells us, must be
replaced by an attempt to cope with reality. We cannot return to the writings of
the realist thinkers of the past with the hope that they will resolve all our dilemmas
yet it is from realism more than from any other school that we can learn how
to think about current conicts. Realism is the only way of thinking about issues
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Nicholas Rengger
of tyranny and freedom, war and peace that can truly claim not to be based on
faith and, despite its reputation for amorality, the only one that is ethically serious.
That is no doubt why it is viewed with suspicion. But this is not an easy choice,
he thinks. Realism, he warns, requires a discipline of thought that may be too
austere for a culture that prizes psychological comfort above everything else, and
it is a reasonable question whether liberal societies are capable of the moral effort
that is involved in setting aside hopes of world transformation (pp. 1923). But we
need to do this, he thinks, if we are to have any hope of navigating the treacherous
shoals of our new century. The modern age, he says in his concluding paragraph,
has been a time of superstition no less than the medieval era, in some ways more
so wars as ferocious as those of early modern times are being fought against
a background of increased knowledge and power. Interacting with the struggle
for natural resources, the violence of faith looks set to shape the coming century
(p. 210).
11
See especially Youssef M. Choueiri, Islamic fundamentalism (London: Pinter, 1997, revised edn). See also the
excellent discussion in Antony Black, The history of Islamic political thought: from the prophet to the present (Edin-
burgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2001).
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Nicholas Rengger
The rst concerns Grays interpretation of realism. Gray is quite right to suggest
that realism is profoundly anti-utopian and right also to suggest that realism,
properly understood, does not have to be conservative. Hans Morgenthau, perhaps
the most inuential twentieth-century realist (and among the most persistently
misread authors in the contemporary literature of international relations), always
considered himself a man of the left. But the picture of realism that emerges in
Grays pages is very indistinct and, on occasion, simply wrong.
To begin with, Gray follows the oft repeated but in my view erroneous claim
that realism can be traced back to, for example, a Machiavelli or (in a different
cultural setting) a Sun Tzu or Kautilya. Other candidates frequently mentioned
would include Thucydides, Augustine, Hobbes and even Rousseau. The problem
is that this is simply anachronistic. While all these writers and many others were
tributaries that owed into what we can genuinely call a realist tradition, that
tradition is a nineteenth- and twentieth-century one, a tradition that arose in part
in opposition to many of the arguments and assumptions that Gray is himself
criticizing.
Second, neither Hedley Bull nor Martin Wight, both writers who Gray says
offer canonical statements of the Realist position (p. 228, fn. 9), would have
described themselves as realists, though the other two writers cited in the same
note, Morgenthau and Reinhold Niebuhr, certainly would have. But there is a
puzzle here beyond merely misidentifying how certain writers saw themselves.
Both Wight and Niebuhr were deeply religious men. Niebuhr was one of the most
inuential Protestant theologians of the twentieth century and was always careful
to call his version of realism Christian realism. Wight was, during the Second
World War, a Christian pacist and after it wrote extensively on religious themes,
especially eschatology, the very topic that, according to Gray, marks out apocaly-
ptic religion. Wights approach to politicsand to international politicswas
shaped by his religion more than anything else. And, as with Niebuhr, it was
because of his religious views that he was sceptical of the utopian imagination of his
fellows. Hope, Wight liked to say, was not a political virtue, a sentiment that Gray
would doubtless agree with. But Wight would have added that it is a theological
one.12
The point here is not merely to engage in some good old-fashioned footnote
scholarship (a blameless pastime academics occasionally enjoy); it is also to point
out that some of the strongest opposition to the utopian imagination in the modern
world has come from specically religious and Christian sources. The somewhat
monochrome character of Grays discussion of religion means that this aspect
of religion is invisible in his treatment of it and, as a result, his understanding
of realismmuch of which was certainly shaped by Christian pessimismis
12
For the best general account of Wights thought see Ian Hall, The international thought of Martin Wight (New
York: Palgrave, 2006). Niebuhrs inuence and self-understanding are best traced in Richard Wightman Fox,
Reinhold Niebuhr: a biography (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1985). For the origins and character of
Morgenthaus political allegiances, see Christoph Frei, Hans J. Morgenthau: an intellectual biography (Baton
Rouge, LA: Louisiana State University Press, 2001), and the nal chapter of William E. Scheuerman, Carl
Schmitt: the end of law (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littleeld, 1999).
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The exorcist?
equally problematic. That is a pity because in broad terms Gray is correct to say
that we have much to learn from realism (and indeed from those like Wight and
Bull who, while not being realists, were certainly anti-utopians).
This brings me to my nal observation. As has already been said, I have a good
deal of sympathy with much of what Gray is doing, both in Black mass and in his
wider work. Like him, I would argue that the liberalism of rational consensus
is a chimera and we are better off without it. Like him, I think attempts to make
the world anew, to nd, as Michael Oakeshott put it, a short cut to heaven13
whether it be in the form of spreading democracy in the Middle East or recre-
ating the Caliphateto be a bizarre and very often disastrous display of hubris
(and we all know, of course, what follows hubris). Like him, I think various forms
of religionand its surrogatesare often to be found stoking the res of conict
around the world and that such forms of religion need to be resisted, though I
would argue that very often the best way to do this is to identify others aspects of
the relevant religious traditions, less susceptible to Gnostic or rationalist perver-
sion. And like him, I think there is a good deal we can learn from traditions such
as realism (there are others) that can help us understand and respond to the various
problems we will face. But I think that the manner most appropriate to such a task
is a scepticism that does not carry with it the cadences of the certainties it rightly
eschews. Grays voice, since Straw dogs, has hovered between a version of what one
might call sceptical pessimism and something rather darker, more deeply pessi-
mistic. Pessimism, by itself, is neither an ignoble nor an unattractive position, as
Joshua Dienstags ne recent book has reminded us,14 and Gray can be seen very
much as a modern pessimist in the sense that Dienstag suggests. But as Dienstags
book also reminds us there are different forms of pessimism, as there are of realism.
Gray quite often quotes the RomanianFrench pessimist E. M. Cioran and seems
sometimes to share his very deeply pessimistic outlook. But this form of pessimism
is ultimately self-defeating and if Gray follows it, the darker side, so to say, of
his pessimism may end up dominating the rest. Better surely to echo the sceptical
pessimism of someone else he likes to quote, and about whom he has written
illuminatingly in the past, George Santayana. In one of the best recent accounts
of Santayanas thought Noel OSullivan pointed out that Santayanas thought can
best be seen as a philosophy of modesty, composed of a rigorous scepticism on the
one hand, and a combination of naturalism, humour, piety, courtesy and detach-
ment on the other.15 This form of pessimism is indeed something we badly need in
order to confront those shrill partisanships mentioned at the outset of this review
article. And Gray is one of the few contemporary thinkers who comes close to it
(though piety would probably have to be dropped!). But the risk is that the more
darkly pessimistic aspect of his thought may take further hold. And that would be
a pity, for the likely consequences of too much dystopic thinking will be a return
to utopia, however inverted or misconceived.
13
Michael Oakeshott, Rationalism in politics and other essays (Indianapolis, IN: Liberty Fund, 1991), p. 465.
14
Joshua Foa Dienstag, Pessimism: philosophy, ethic, spirit (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2006).
15
Noel OSullivan, Santayana (St Albans: Claridge Press, 1992), p. 104.
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