Read James Robertson's response, In defence of Russell Brand
Revolution by Russell Brand (Century, £20) Masters of Mankind: Essays and Lectures 1969—2013 by Noam Chomsky (Haymarket, £7.99)
Russell Brand’s new book is a brilliant, if totally unintentional, defence of the establishment. On the one hand, he proposes the bankruptcy of the current political system. On the other, he gives victory to the establishment by suggesting the only way to fix it is by not participating in politics. Worryingly, Brand’s so-called ideas have resonated with the public: the Newsnight sparring session between him and Jeremy Paxman has had over 10m hits on YouTube and his own news show, The Trews, is up to 44m views and rising. He is a master populist, who is restyling himself as an “alternative” leftist voice. On several occasions he has professed his admiration for alternative thinkers such as Noam Chomsky, despite Brand’s anti-voting stance directly contradicting his hero’s arguments. Chomsky believes the corporate media fabricates narratives to suit the aims of the governing elite. The media’s job is not to inform the public: it is to massage them into being apathetic so the privileged can run the country in peace. While this conspiratorial message has been much derided, if anything proves it, it is Brand’s latest printed tirade.
Chomsky has, to paraphrase Orwell, turned political ranting into an art, and apathy is one of his favourite targets. For Chomsky, even in ostensibly hopeless situations, an individual can make a difference using existing political means. Without voting you have zero chance of changing anything. By taking action to exploit the system’s weaknesses, the chances are increased, at least somewhat. A favourite Chomsky example is the US activists who worked to get international action against the Indonesian government, which from 1975 began a campaign of genocidal violence against the population of its tiny neighbour East Timor. Chomsky maintains these activists were around a dozen people. They lobbied politicians and the mass media for a generation. By 1999 they had succeeded in getting the United States to withdraw support from Indonesia. The activism of a handful of dedicated people had saved thousands of lives.
Why is that while serious political thinkers languish unread, a TV presenter can get a reportedly six-figure advance for an unfunny autobiography with political pretensions? Brand does introduce his readers to important thinkers—among them Chomsky himself who he describes as "a linguist, political theorist and name you'd better start saying at gatherings if you want to be taken seriously." For thousands of readers this book will be the main thing they think of when they think of anti-establishment politics, while the likes of Noam Chomsky will go under appreciated. Russell Brand is the ultimate establishment gatekeeper, providing mindless entertainment for an apathetic electorate.
By following Brand’s ramblings and refusing to vote, people are submitting to a system they purport to be protesting against. This book, like Brand’s comedy, is aimed at young people, yet they stand to lose the most by following its example. In the 2010 general election, the turnout among those aged under-24 was 44 per cent. Among those over-65, it was 76 per cent. The coalition government has duly raised tuition fees while protecting pensions. Not exactly a revolutionary outcome.
Brand’s political stupidity could be excused if he was actually funny. But he is not. There is little here to delight even his die-hard fans. Brand is clearly desperate for people to take him seriously—punishing the reader with statistics and poorly written summaries of 18th century political philosophy. The constant changes of tone from whimsical memoir to sombre pseudo-philosophic discourse are unpleasantly jarring.
Where there is humour, it is gratingly predictable. His act of the streetwise hedonist playing with literary and philosophical concepts is, as usual, the main source of comedy. (“Amazing as it is that the brain can conjure up these neurological illusions, which on some subtle level are a physical reality, like they must be made of an electrical impulse which has a charge or a weight, it’s a fucking drag when I can’t voluntarily stop it.”) Other attempts at humour come out as surreal meta-ironic puns. Chomsky is “Chomskerooney” at one point, while Thomas Picketty is described like this: “Dear ol’ Thomassy Piketts, ol’ Piketty, Licketty, Rollitty, Flicketty, has been given a right kicketty by the right wing for daring to suggest that we need transparency around the wealth and assets...” The effect, besides bafflement, is padding. Brand has more of an eye on the word count than the words—or less on the spellcheck as the cheque.
What Brand fails to realise is really good satire is both funny and serious, telling amusing jokes about subjects ignored or stifled by the rest of the media. Humourists write some of the best political commentary around today. Frankie Boyle for example has written lengthily and hilariously about politics, arguing roughly the same anti-establishment, anti-capitalism line as Brand puts forward, only with an emphasis on personal involvement (like voting for Scottish independence). Crucially, Boyle recognises that as a comedian he is best when he isn’t trying to be serious, as was illustrated by his recent Twitter takedown of Ukip leader Nigel Farage.
It would have been better if Brand had ditched the pitiful attempts at humour altogether. Then he might have come closer to Chomsky, whose entire style is centred on making a wildly sweeping statement—say, that the Eisenhower Administration conspired to destroy Brazilian democracy—then providing damning supporting evidence straight from the horse’s mouth (like quoting Eisenhower’s Secretary of State as saying Brazilians were “like children with practically no capacity for self-government”). Such a style requires rigorous use of evidence and references. These are absent from Brand’s book, which is a shame—he refers to a number of works it would have been interesting to follow up on, including obscure authors such as the American mythologist Joseph Campbell and leading contemporary thinkers including David Graeber.
What’s really grinding about reading Russell Brand, though, is the arrogance. Again, the comparison with Chomsky works against him. Noam Chomsky is notoriously humble, both in his attitude to his own importance and his living standards (he has resided in the same suburban house in Boston for half a century). Russell Brand lives the lifestyle of the international party class, and he wants you to know it. His first mention of attending the Oscars is ten pages in—but don’t worry, they were “fucking boring.”
This example of the humblebrag gone wild is combined with total hypocrisy. In parts of the book he writes as if totally detached from the rest of civilisation. “When travelling in impoverished regions in galling luxury, as I have done, you have to undergo some high-wire ethical arithmetic to legitimise your position. If you can’t separate yourself from poverty geographically then you have to do it ideologically. You have to believe inequality is okay.” Unless you’re Russell Brand, obviously.
Flailing to defend himself, Brand says giving away his vast wealth would be pointless without systemic change. Tell that to the poor and needy people his millions could set free. The current system might not work well, but it works a bit. Noam Chomsky also admits making bad moral choices, like eating factory-farmed animals and driving a car. But he does not try to abstain from hypocrisy by whining about the system: he simply admits that if we spent all our time making moral choices we’d never have space for anything else.
Passing on revolutionary ideas from one generation to another is bound to lead to misunderstandings, exaggerations and denunciations. But for Brand to style himself as Chomsky’s pupil is the ultimate fallacy. Besides them holding completely different views, Chomsky has collected a laboured work of scholarship while Brand has produced a bit of romantic nonsensical rhetoric. Unfortunately for the rest of us it may be the early gusts of another publicity hurricane, in which Brand stands for office. Though according to him, the worst outcome would be if people voted for him.
Revolution by Russell Brand (Century, £20) Masters of Mankind: Essays and Lectures 1969—2013 by Noam Chomsky (Haymarket, £7.99)
Russell Brand’s new book is a brilliant, if totally unintentional, defence of the establishment. On the one hand, he proposes the bankruptcy of the current political system. On the other, he gives victory to the establishment by suggesting the only way to fix it is by not participating in politics. Worryingly, Brand’s so-called ideas have resonated with the public: the Newsnight sparring session between him and Jeremy Paxman has had over 10m hits on YouTube and his own news show, The Trews, is up to 44m views and rising. He is a master populist, who is restyling himself as an “alternative” leftist voice. On several occasions he has professed his admiration for alternative thinkers such as Noam Chomsky, despite Brand’s anti-voting stance directly contradicting his hero’s arguments. Chomsky believes the corporate media fabricates narratives to suit the aims of the governing elite. The media’s job is not to inform the public: it is to massage them into being apathetic so the privileged can run the country in peace. While this conspiratorial message has been much derided, if anything proves it, it is Brand’s latest printed tirade.
Chomsky has, to paraphrase Orwell, turned political ranting into an art, and apathy is one of his favourite targets. For Chomsky, even in ostensibly hopeless situations, an individual can make a difference using existing political means. Without voting you have zero chance of changing anything. By taking action to exploit the system’s weaknesses, the chances are increased, at least somewhat. A favourite Chomsky example is the US activists who worked to get international action against the Indonesian government, which from 1975 began a campaign of genocidal violence against the population of its tiny neighbour East Timor. Chomsky maintains these activists were around a dozen people. They lobbied politicians and the mass media for a generation. By 1999 they had succeeded in getting the United States to withdraw support from Indonesia. The activism of a handful of dedicated people had saved thousands of lives.
Why is that while serious political thinkers languish unread, a TV presenter can get a reportedly six-figure advance for an unfunny autobiography with political pretensions? Brand does introduce his readers to important thinkers—among them Chomsky himself who he describes as "a linguist, political theorist and name you'd better start saying at gatherings if you want to be taken seriously." For thousands of readers this book will be the main thing they think of when they think of anti-establishment politics, while the likes of Noam Chomsky will go under appreciated. Russell Brand is the ultimate establishment gatekeeper, providing mindless entertainment for an apathetic electorate.
By following Brand’s ramblings and refusing to vote, people are submitting to a system they purport to be protesting against. This book, like Brand’s comedy, is aimed at young people, yet they stand to lose the most by following its example. In the 2010 general election, the turnout among those aged under-24 was 44 per cent. Among those over-65, it was 76 per cent. The coalition government has duly raised tuition fees while protecting pensions. Not exactly a revolutionary outcome.
Brand’s political stupidity could be excused if he was actually funny. But he is not. There is little here to delight even his die-hard fans. Brand is clearly desperate for people to take him seriously—punishing the reader with statistics and poorly written summaries of 18th century political philosophy. The constant changes of tone from whimsical memoir to sombre pseudo-philosophic discourse are unpleasantly jarring.
Where there is humour, it is gratingly predictable. His act of the streetwise hedonist playing with literary and philosophical concepts is, as usual, the main source of comedy. (“Amazing as it is that the brain can conjure up these neurological illusions, which on some subtle level are a physical reality, like they must be made of an electrical impulse which has a charge or a weight, it’s a fucking drag when I can’t voluntarily stop it.”) Other attempts at humour come out as surreal meta-ironic puns. Chomsky is “Chomskerooney” at one point, while Thomas Picketty is described like this: “Dear ol’ Thomassy Piketts, ol’ Piketty, Licketty, Rollitty, Flicketty, has been given a right kicketty by the right wing for daring to suggest that we need transparency around the wealth and assets...” The effect, besides bafflement, is padding. Brand has more of an eye on the word count than the words—or less on the spellcheck as the cheque.
What Brand fails to realise is really good satire is both funny and serious, telling amusing jokes about subjects ignored or stifled by the rest of the media. Humourists write some of the best political commentary around today. Frankie Boyle for example has written lengthily and hilariously about politics, arguing roughly the same anti-establishment, anti-capitalism line as Brand puts forward, only with an emphasis on personal involvement (like voting for Scottish independence). Crucially, Boyle recognises that as a comedian he is best when he isn’t trying to be serious, as was illustrated by his recent Twitter takedown of Ukip leader Nigel Farage.
It would have been better if Brand had ditched the pitiful attempts at humour altogether. Then he might have come closer to Chomsky, whose entire style is centred on making a wildly sweeping statement—say, that the Eisenhower Administration conspired to destroy Brazilian democracy—then providing damning supporting evidence straight from the horse’s mouth (like quoting Eisenhower’s Secretary of State as saying Brazilians were “like children with practically no capacity for self-government”). Such a style requires rigorous use of evidence and references. These are absent from Brand’s book, which is a shame—he refers to a number of works it would have been interesting to follow up on, including obscure authors such as the American mythologist Joseph Campbell and leading contemporary thinkers including David Graeber.
What’s really grinding about reading Russell Brand, though, is the arrogance. Again, the comparison with Chomsky works against him. Noam Chomsky is notoriously humble, both in his attitude to his own importance and his living standards (he has resided in the same suburban house in Boston for half a century). Russell Brand lives the lifestyle of the international party class, and he wants you to know it. His first mention of attending the Oscars is ten pages in—but don’t worry, they were “fucking boring.”
This example of the humblebrag gone wild is combined with total hypocrisy. In parts of the book he writes as if totally detached from the rest of civilisation. “When travelling in impoverished regions in galling luxury, as I have done, you have to undergo some high-wire ethical arithmetic to legitimise your position. If you can’t separate yourself from poverty geographically then you have to do it ideologically. You have to believe inequality is okay.” Unless you’re Russell Brand, obviously.
Flailing to defend himself, Brand says giving away his vast wealth would be pointless without systemic change. Tell that to the poor and needy people his millions could set free. The current system might not work well, but it works a bit. Noam Chomsky also admits making bad moral choices, like eating factory-farmed animals and driving a car. But he does not try to abstain from hypocrisy by whining about the system: he simply admits that if we spent all our time making moral choices we’d never have space for anything else.
Passing on revolutionary ideas from one generation to another is bound to lead to misunderstandings, exaggerations and denunciations. But for Brand to style himself as Chomsky’s pupil is the ultimate fallacy. Besides them holding completely different views, Chomsky has collected a laboured work of scholarship while Brand has produced a bit of romantic nonsensical rhetoric. Unfortunately for the rest of us it may be the early gusts of another publicity hurricane, in which Brand stands for office. Though according to him, the worst outcome would be if people voted for him.
