读:《精神政治学》《倦怠社会》韩炳哲

  在功绩社会中,受害者和施害者合二为一。我们为了追求所谓的“自我实现”而不断压榨自己。这种剥削比外在的剥削更高效,因为它伴随着“自由”的感觉。

  智能手机作为现代刑具,我们不仅随身携带它,而且通过它不断“忏悔”,“点赞”消除了异质性和反抗。我们沉溺于被认同的快感中,这是一种极具镇静作用的权力机制。现代权力不再通过命令运作,而是通过讨好和成瘾运作。它不制造痛苦,而是制造快乐。当权力变得温情脉脉时,反抗就变得不可能了。

  在过度互联的世界里,成为一个不被连接、不被沟通、不可被解读的“白痴”,反而是一种自由的实践。重新夺回保持沉默和拥有秘密的权利。只有在无法被数据化的地方,才有真正的人性栖息。

  我们正在欢天喜地地步入一种全方位的监控与自我奴役之中。这种奴役之所以稳固,是因为它披着“自由”和“自我优化”的外衣。

  我觉得这样的话,实际上世界上并没有真正的自由,只有个人对自由的理解,我们对自由的出发点各不相同,体验到的自由想要的自由也各不相同,任何企图将自由定义为:什么什么才是真正的自由的时候,都是在确定一个标准答案,但是一旦有了这个标准答案的时候,那么自由本身也就消失了。概念是对体验的僵化。

  语言的局限:当一个人说“真正的自由是X”时,他其实是在用静态的语言去捕捉流动的生命体验。这本身就是一种悖论。一旦自由变成了一个固定的名词或定义,它就变成了一个牢笼。

  或者不仅仅是自由,除了科学客观存在的东西以外,任何内心的一种感受和体验,意识里的东西,一旦要去设立一个标准,“真正的什么是什么”这样的一个句式的时候,那这种东西他其实已经不存在了,而且当一个人在个人说真正的什么是什么的时候,他是以他个人的角度出发去设立一个标准,那么又是什么让这个人他的标准成为真理的呢?

  话语背后是权力意志。当有人宣称“真正的自由/爱/艺术”时,他潜台词是“你们理解的那些都是假的、低级的,只有我定义的这个才是对的。”这本质上不是在探讨真理,而是在争夺解释权。

  人们习惯标准化的规训,因为社会总是试图给抽象概念设立标准,比如“真正的成功”、“真正的幸福”,这不是为了让人自由和幸福,而是为了方便管理。如果大家都认同一个标准,大家就都变成了可预测的、同质化的零件。

  意识到并没有一种真正的自由,从“寻找标准答案”的焦虑中解脱。就不再需要去问大师问书本问社会“我这样算不算自由?”,因为体验本身就是最高的合法性。

  我们经常陷入东方世界,还有西方世界的政治,社会主义,资本主义的一种解释困局里面,但其实不管我们处于哪一个社会,只要是在人在的社会里面就必定有一种形式的束缚,国内的抽象监视与言论自由的丧失,国外的人种歧视与文化厮杀。

  人们试图证明“我的笼子比你的笼子更像草原”,肆意狂奔在仓鼠的转轮上。

  所以我们只能选择我们能让我们当下感受到自由的那个地方,而不是说这个地方一定是好的,那个地方是不自由的,都只是个人的选择,适合个人的培养皿—这就是一种束缚,但我目前能接受这种束缚。既然没有完美的乌托邦,我们就不再寻求在一个地方扎根并宣誓永恒的忠诚。

  ——

  为什么哲学家是傻瓜?因为正常人都活在既定的社会规则里,觉得一切理所当然。只有“傻瓜”才会对常识感到困惑,才会问出“我是谁”、“世界是什么”这种看似愚蠢的问题。苏格拉底说“我知道我一无所知”,这是在对抗当时的智者派,即自以为全知的人。笛卡尔怀疑一切,这在常人看来就是疯了。

  互联网时代,我们看似自由,其实都在被迫“点赞”和“转发”。算法和社交网络奖励合群的观点,惩罚怪异的声音,结果“傻瓜”消失了。所有人都变成了聪明人,即那些懂得顺应系统、高效沟通的人。这导致了“同质化的地狱”,大家都在说一样的话,想一样的事。
  昨天在nature上看到一则杂志的话“If the Anthropocene describes a planet transformed by humans, the Homogenocene is one ecological consequence: fewer places with their own distinctive life.”直译来是:如果说人类世描述的是一个被人类改造过的星球,那么同质世就是其生态后果之一:拥有独特生命的地方越来越少。虽然讲的是地质学上的内容,说世界各地的生态系统越来越像彼此了,生物学上也越来越像了。有点异曲同工之妙。)

  在一个追求“高效连接”的网络社会里,傻瓜是路障。聪明人会说:“让我们无缝连接吧!”,傻瓜会说:“不,我想一个人待着。”傻瓜就像身体的免疫系统,它拒绝外来的异物:大众舆论。但在新自由主义看来,这种免疫阻碍了信息的流通,阻碍了赚钱,所以必须被消除。

  这本书里还有一个概念是“压迫”,曾经的压迫是不让你说话,也就是审查。现在的压迫是逼你说话,鼓励你表达你的观点、分享你的生活。傻瓜的反抗却是保持沉默。在韩炳哲看来,只有在孤独中,思想才会产生,而不是被数据淹没。

  聪明人是在系统内做选择题。比如系统给A、B、C三个选项,聪明人会选出利益最大的那个。但永远跳不出A、B、C的框架。智力是系统的奴隶。傻瓜不选A、B、C,他直接走出考场。他看似愚蠢,实则拥有了系统无法理解的自由。

  ——

  精明的权力攻心为上,而不是对其进行惩戒,让它向约束和禁令低头。它不允许我们沉默,相反却不断地要求我们去倾诉、分享和参与,去交流我们的想法、需求、愿望和爱好,讲述我们的生活。这种友好型权力仿佛比镇压型权力更强大,并且具有遮蔽性。如今,自由的危机不在于我们面临一种否定或者压制自由的权力技术,而在于这种权力技术对自由敲骨吸髓般的利用。

  旧时代的权力是禁言式的,像一个严厉的父亲,告诉你不许乱说话,它的象征是监狱和审查。新时代的权力是温柔的,不断诱导你说出你的故事,分享你的此刻,快来参与讨论。

  只要你不说话,你的内心世界就是封闭的,不可被操控的。一旦你“倾诉”了,你就变得透明了,透明就意味着可以被大数据完美预测和引导了。过去,反抗意味着“我要说话”,现在韩炳哲认为,反抗或许是保持沉默。

  镇压型权力能看见它,警察,法律,围墙。因为能看见,所以人们会产生逆反心理,它是可见的,友好型权力你看不见它,或者你把它当成了朋友。当你点赞时,你觉得是在支持朋友,当你填写个性化推荐时,你觉得服务贴心,这些在提供便利和快乐的同时,悄悄拿走了控制权。这种权力让人感到“自由”和“舒服”,所以永远不会想要推翻它。

  正好前段时间聊到WhatsApp和WeChat,WhatsApp会实时显示用户上次打开软件的时间还有已读,类似闲鱼,但是WeChat表面没有,实际会有部门查看用户个人信息,因为我出现过发送信息被中途拦截了的情况,朋友认为被对方知道自己“已读”信息是可怕的,因为对面是具体的人,而数据监视是抽象的,感觉不到的,所以还是WeChat更好。

  那么再次思考,根据精神政治还有福柯的自由与规训,提问:在现实中,“自我实现”这个论调从什么时候开始的?是为什么,为谁服务的?意味着什么?

  查资料后的回答:

  20世纪中,“自我实现”出现,但并不是为了服务资本,反而是带有解放色彩的。这个概念最早由哥尔德斯坦提出,但真正把它推向神坛的是亚伯拉罕·马斯洛。在那个时代,主流心理学要么把人看作行为主义下的小白鼠,要么看作“性压抑的精神病”,马斯洛的人本主义心理学是为了反抗这些非人化的视角。那时候,“自我实现”意味着拒绝成为机器上的螺丝钉,意味着去对抗体制,我要做我自己,我不要做社会让我做的人。

  但是到了20世纪末,资本主义发现,它不仅不需要害怕“自我实现”的诉求,反而可以利用它。于是资本管理层开始引入“自我实现”的话语,他们告诉员工“你不是在为老板打工,你是在为自己打工,你是在创业,你是在实现你的人生价值。”把“必须做”变成了“想要做”,把“外部指令”变成了“内部动机”,看似给了你自由,实则更彻底的让个人沦为资本的燃料。因为我要通过工作,或者我做出了什么事来证明我自己,“作品”成功就是人生的成功。

  这个概念为谁服务?受益者是谁?

  以前,工厂需要监工拿着鞭子盯着工人。现在不需要了,因为每个人的脑子里都住进了一个苛刻的“老板”。这个老板叫“理想自我”。你自己会盯着自己,稍有懈怠就会产生罪恶感,比如常见的:今天又什么都没做,人生又浪费了一天,好有罪恶感。公司把风险抛给了个人,如果你失败了,是你不够努力,你没有尽人事,你还没有实现自我,没有发觉自己的更大潜力。

  如果你是为了工资工作,你做到对得起工资就会停手,但如果你是为了“自我实现”工作,这个上限就是无穷的。没有什么比利用一个人的梦想去剥削他更高效了,人们完全压榨自己,在生活的每分每秒,不仅仅在公司,甚至会对其他不够实现自我的放松的人问:你玩的有什么意义?

  当“自我实现”成为一种社会律令,它意味的陷阱:

  自我空心化:
  我们拼命挖掘“真正的自我”,挖出来的全是消费品和职业标签。我们通过买什么车、穿什么衣服、在什么公司任职来定义“自我”,我长得漂亮,身材好,发朋友圈获得点赞,把自己当商品展示。剥离了这些,内心一片虚无,因为无法定位自我了。

  痛苦的私人化:
  在过去,痛苦可能引发革命,因为是阶级压迫。在现在,痛苦只能引发抑郁,因为是“我”无能。韩炳哲的观点是“抑郁症是功绩社会的特征性疾病。”因为那是对自己无法达成“绝对完美自我”的挫败感。马斯洛的金字塔顶端是虚幻的。“自我实现”是一个永远挂在驴子前面的胡萝卜。你永远可以更瘦、更富有、更有学识、更有效率。只要你还在追求“更好的自己”,你就永远是资本最听话的电池。

  那么受益者是谁?答案就呼之欲出了。

  ——

  规训意味着:你【应该】如何。当人们做完【应该】做的事,任务完成,便倦怠。所以规训意味着适可而止的输出,维持低效率的社会运转,但并不足以支撑经济高速发展。因为规训社会中,有外外在权威和明确边界,人会累,累了便停下来。它虽低效,但很稳定。

  随着发展,我们会由“规训社会”发展成“功绩社会”,在功绩阶段,社会共识强调的是【能够】。

  目的是为了提升效率,榨干价值。在这当中,人们必须思考个人价值,发挥最大潜能:你能做到,你可以更好,你要投身你自己。

  “能够”里也包含了“应该”,两者是递进关系。但后者产生罪犯,前者产生抑郁。

  因为人永远不会到达一个终极发觉状态,只会像齿轮一样不停运转。人的价值不再在于人本身,而在于你创造了什么。在这个阶段,权力不再明面入侵,人们开始自我激励、自我监控、自我剥削。失败不再来自外在压迫,而被解释成:你还不够努力,你还不配。

  所以我突然想到,现代社会如此强调“个人价值”,由传统的“应该读书结婚生子”转变为“我可以发掘自我价值,选择不婚”,也许并不是进步,可能本身就是管理学的手段,是被预料到的路径。当社会由农业转变为工业,传统的男耕女织不再适配,系统便需要发挥每个人的最大潜能。

  我们的价值与思想,从来不意味着觉醒,或许只是一种更深的混沌,但我们把它命名做“进步”。当你以为在自由选择时,到底是谁设计了这条可被选择的路?

  你认为的道德与伦理,不过是完成了监护人的喜好;你认为的观点与坚持,不过迎合了上面设置的管理。

  关于“定性式评价”的逻辑:
  在看书时注意到一条否认的评论。他认为作者是坏的,写这本书是有分裂目的的。如果他是在做学术批评,应完整论证“定义为何不成立”,但他选择了留下一个“定性式评价”。这说明其目的不是讨论,而是定位自己。
  这是动机审判:把作者拉回和自己同一高度,甚至踩低一点,来稳固自我位置。他混淆了两件事:“我习惯的定义”与“唯一正确的定义”。   为什么不能接纳?因为接纳意味着承认世界不是单一解释,承认自己的理解不是终局。这会挑战一些人的权力操控感。控制欲强,本质上是因为控制感弱。

  当一个人无法容忍“同一问题的不同定义”,他真正捍卫的是思想,还是自我稳定感?

——

Reflections on Byung-Chul Han’s Psychopolitics and The Burnout Society

In the achievement society, victim and perpetrator have become one. We relentlessly exploit ourselves in the pursuit of so-called “self-actualization.” This form of exploitation is far more efficient than external coercion because it is accompanied by a deceptive sensation of “freedom.”

The smartphone serves as a modern instrument of torture; we do not merely carry it with us, but use it to engage in constant “confession.” The “Like” eliminates alterity and resistance. We are addicted to the pleasure of validation, a profoundly sedative mechanism of power. Modern power no longer operates through commands, but through seduction and addiction. It does not produce pain; it produces pleasure. When power becomes tender and affectionate, resistance becomes impossible.

In a world of hyper-connectivity, practicing “idiocy”—becoming one who is unconnected, uncommunicative, and uninterpretable—is an act of liberation. We must reclaim the right to remain silent and to possess secrets. True humanity resides only where data cannot reach.

We are jubilantly marching into a state of total surveillance and self-enslavement. This subjugation is uniquely stable because it wears the mask of “freedom” and “self-optimization.”

It strikes me that, in reality, there is no such thing as absolute freedom; there is only an individual’s understanding of it. Our points of departure for freedom differ, as do the freedoms we experience and desire. Any attempt to define freedom—to state that “only X is true freedom”—is merely establishing a “standard answer.” The moment such a standard exists, freedom itself vanishes. Concepts are the fossilization of experience.

The limitation of language: When one says, “True freedom is X,” they are using static language to capture a fluid life experience. This is inherently paradoxical. Once freedom becomes a fixed noun or definition, it transforms into a cage.

Perhaps this applies not only to freedom, but to any internal feeling or conscious experience beyond objective scientific facts. The moment we establish a standard—the moment we use the phrasing “True [something] is [something]“—the essence of that thing ceases to exist. Furthermore, when an individual defines what “true” something is, they are establishing a standard from a personal perspective. What, then, allows this person’s standard to become “truth”?

Behind discourse lies the will to power. When someone declares, “This is true freedom/love/art,” the subtext is: “Your understanding is false and inferior; only my definition is correct.” This is not an exploration of truth, but a contest over the right to interpretation.

People are accustomed to standardized discipline because society seeks to set benchmarks for abstract concepts like “true success” or “true happiness.” This is not for the sake of human liberty or well-being, but for the convenience of management. If everyone identifies with a single standard, they become predictable, homogenized components.

By realizing there is no “true freedom,” one is liberated from the anxiety of “searching for the standard answer.” One no longer needs to ask masters, books, or society, “Does this count as freedom?” Experience itself is the ultimate legitimacy.

After years abroad, I have found that we often fall into the interpretive trap of East versus West, or Socialism versus Capitalism. Yet, regardless of the social structure, any human society inevitably involves a form of restraint: the abstract surveillance and loss of free speech in one, the racial discrimination and cultural strife in the other.

People attempt to prove that “my cage looks more like a prairie than yours,” all while sprinting frantically on a hamster wheel.

Thus, we can only choose the place where we feel free in the present moment. This is not to say that one place is objectively “good” and the other “unfree”; it is a personal choice, a “petri dish” suited to the individual. This is a form of constraint, but it is one I can currently accept. Since no perfect utopia exists, we no longer seek to take root in one place and swear eternal loyalty.

Why is the philosopher a “fool”? Because “normal” people live within established social rules and take everything for granted. Only the “fool” is bewildered by common sense and asks seemingly stupid questions like “Who am I?” or “What is the world?” Socrates said, “I know that I know nothing,” in opposition to the Sophists who believed themselves omniscient. Descartes doubted everything, which to ordinary people seemed like madness.

In the internet age, we appear free, but we are essentially forced to “like” and “share.” Algorithms and social networks reward conformist views and punish idiosyncratic voices; consequently, the “fool” disappears. Everyone has become “smart”—those who know how to conform to the system and communicate efficiently. This results in a “Hell of the Same,” where everyone says the same things and thinks the same thoughts. (Yesterday in Nature, I saw a quote: “If the Anthropocene describes a planet transformed by humans, the Homogenocene is one ecological consequence: fewer places with their own distinctive life.” While this refers to geology and how global ecosystems are becoming biologically identical, there is a striking parallel here.)

In a network society pursuing “efficient connectivity,” the fool is a roadblock. The smart person says, “Let us connect seamlessly!”; the fool says, “No, I want to be alone.” The fool is like the body’s immune system, rejecting the foreign object that is public opinion. To neoliberalism, however, this immunity hinders the flow of information and profit, and thus must be eliminated.

Another concept in this book is “oppression.” In the past, oppression meant silencing you—censorship. Today, oppression means forcing you to speak, encouraging you to express your views, share your life, and participate. The fool’s resistance is silence. In Han’s view, thought is born only in solitude, not when drowned in data.

The smart person makes choices within a multiple-choice system. Given options A, B, and C, the smart person chooses the one with the most benefit. But they never leap out of the A-B-C framework. Intelligence is a slave to the system. The fool does not choose A, B, or C; he walks out of the examination room. He appears stupid, but in fact, he possesses a freedom the system cannot comprehend.

Smart power seeks to win hearts and minds rather than punishing them or forcing them to bow to constraints and prohibitions. It does not allow us to be silent; on the contrary, it constantly demands that we confide, share, and participate—to communicate our thoughts, needs, desires, and hobbies; to narrate our lives. This “friendly” power appears stronger than repressive power because it is invisible. Today, the crisis of freedom does not lie in a technology of power that denies or suppresses freedom, but in one that exploits freedom to its very core.

Old-world power was prohibitive, like a strict father telling you not to speak out of turn; its symbols were the prison and the censor. New-age power is gentle, constantly enticing you to tell your story, share your moment, and join the discussion.

As long as you do not speak, your inner world remains closed and uncontrollable. Once you “confide,” you become transparent. Transparency means you can be perfectly predicted and guided by Big Data. In the past, resistance meant “I want to speak”; now, Han suggests, resistance may be remaining silent.

Repressive power is visible: the police, the law, the walls. Because it can be seen, people develop a sense of rebellion. Friendly power is invisible, or you perceive it as a friend. When you “like” something, you feel you are supporting a friend; when you fill out a personalized recommendation, you feel the service is attentive. While providing convenience and pleasure, these mechanisms quietly seize control. This power makes people feel “free” and “comfortable,” so they never think to overthrow it.

Recently, I discussed WhatsApp and WeChat. WhatsApp shows “last seen” and “read” status in real-time, which a friend found terrifying because the recipient is a concrete person. In contrast, WeChat appears not to have these features, even though internal departments actually monitor personal information (I have experienced messages being intercepted). My friend felt WeChat was “better” because data surveillance is abstract and unfelt.

Reflecting again on Psychopolitics and Foucault’s “freedom and discipline,” we must ask: In reality, when did the rhetoric of “self-actualization” begin? Why, and for whom does it serve? What does it truly signify?

Research provides an answer: In the mid-20th century, “self-actualization” emerged, but not to serve capital; it originally had a liberatory tone. The concept was first proposed by Kurt Goldstein, but it was Abraham Maslow who elevated it. At that time, mainstream psychology viewed humans either as Pavlovian rats or as “repressed neurotics.” Maslow’s humanistic psychology was a rebellion against these dehumanizing perspectives. Then, “self-actualization” meant refusing to be a cog in the machine; it meant “doing me” against the system.

By the late 20th century, however, capitalism realized it did not need to fear the demand for “self-actualization”; it could utilize it. Capitalist management introduced the language of self-actualization, telling employees: “You aren’t working for the boss, you are working for yourself; you are an entrepreneur; you are realizing your life’s value.” It transformed “must do” into “want to do,” and “external command” into “internal motivation.” It seemingly gave you freedom, but in fact, it more thoroughly reduced the individual to fuel for capital. I must prove myself through work; the success of the “work” is the success of the life.

Who does this concept serve? Who is the beneficiary? Formerly, factories needed overseers with whips. Now, they are unnecessary because a harsh “boss” lives inside everyone’s head. This boss is called the “Ideal Ego.” You monitor yourself; a moment of idleness brings guilt: “I did nothing again today, another day wasted, I feel so guilty.” The company offloads risk to the individual: if you fail, it is because you weren’t diligent enough, you didn’t exhaust your possibilities, you didn’t realize your full potential.

If you work for a wage, you stop once you have earned it. But if you work for “self-actualization,” there is no upper limit. Nothing is more efficient than exploiting a person’s dreams. People squeeze themselves dry every second—not just at the office, but even questioning others who are relaxing: “What is the point of your play?”

When “self-actualization” becomes a social imperative, it conceals traps:

The Hollow Self: We frantically dig for the “true self,” only to find consumer goods and professional labels. We define ourselves by the cars we buy, the clothes we wear, or the companies we work for. “I am beautiful, I have a great body, I get likes on social media”—we display ourselves as commodities. Strip these away, and the interior is a void, for there is no way to locate the self.

The Privatization of Pain: In the past, pain might spark a revolution because it was perceived as class oppression. Now, pain only sparks depression because it is perceived as personal incompetence. Han’s view is that “depression is the signature disease of the achievement society.” it is the frustration of failing to achieve the “absolutely perfect self.” Maslow’s pyramid top is an illusion. “Self-actualization” is the carrot dangling before the donkey. You can always be thinner, wealthier, more learned, more efficient. As long as you are pursuing a “better self,” you remain the most compliant battery for capital.

The identity of the beneficiary becomes obvious. Discipline means: how you should be. When people finish what they should do, the task is complete, and they become weary. Thus, discipline implies a finite output, maintaining a low-efficiency social operation—insufficient to support high-speed economic growth. In a disciplinary society, there is external authority and clear boundaries; people get tired and stop. It is inefficient but stable.

As we develop, we move from a “disciplinary society” to an “achievement society.” In the achievement stage, the social consensus emphasizes what you can do.

The goal is to boost efficiency and extract every drop of value. In this, individuals must reflect on their “personal value” and maximize their potential: “You can do it, you can be better, you must invest in yourself.”

“Can” encompasses “should”; they are sequential. But the latter produces criminals, while the former produces depressives.

Because one never reaches a state of ultimate self-discovery, one simply continues to spin like a gear. Human value no longer lies in the person, but in what the person creates. In this stage, power no longer invades openly; people engage in self-motivation, self-monitoring, and self-exploitation. Failure is no longer blamed on external oppression but is interpreted as: “You didn’t work hard enough; you didn’t deserve it.”

I suddenly realize that the modern emphasis on “personal value”—shifting from the traditional “should study, marry, and have children” to “I can discover my value and choose not to marry”—might not be “progress.” It may itself be a management tactic, a predicted path. When society shifts from agriculture to industry, traditional family structures no longer fit; the system needs to harness every individual’s maximum potential.

Our values and thoughts may never signify “awakening,” but rather a deeper form of chaos that we have labeled “progress.” When you think you are choosing freely, who designed the path of choices?

What you consider morality and ethics may just be satisfying the preferences of a guardian; the opinions you hold may just be conforming to the management parameters set from above.

Regarding the logic of “qualitative judgment”: While reading, I noticed a dismissive comment. The commenter believed the author was “bad” and wrote the book with “divisive” intent. If he were engaging in academic criticism, he would have fully argued why a definition failed; instead, he chose a “qualitative judgment.” This shows his purpose was not discussion, but self-positioning.

This is a trial of motive: pulling the author down to one’s own level, or even lower, to stabilize one’s own position. He confused two things: “the definition I am used to” and “the only correct definition.”

Why is he unable to accept it? Because acceptance means admitting the world does not have a single explanation, and that one’s own understanding is not the end-all. This challenges some people’s sense of power and control. A strong desire for control is, at its core, born of a weak sense of actual control.

When a person cannot tolerate “different definitions of the same problem,” is it their thoughts they are truly defending, or their own sense of internal stability?