“I despise the kind of book which tells you how to live, how to make yourself happy! Philosophers have no good news for you at this level! I believe the first duty of philosophy is making you understand what deep shit you are in!” -Slavoj Žižek

Netflix is a corporation, right? And corporations are inherently bad, therefore, Netflix is bad. The syllogism appears sound, so let's tack a Q.E.D. on the end and prepare to laud the fine corporation. Netflix earns its bad rep' from the usual corporate chicanery, but (aside from their woeful collection of films and television shows) the company has some not-so-bad attributes. Actually, there's only one not-so-bad, and it's more of a side effect: the rising popularity of documentaries. Documentarians owe Netflix a fruit basket or two for coaxing American viewers into the realm of nonfiction. Lest Netflix users have a cult appreciation for Mega Shark Versus Giant Octupus and other films of that so-bad-it's-good ilk, there isn't a watchable option in the (impressive) collection of thousands of offal-grade film. Netflix notoriously streams some of the most offensive films and innocuous TV shows to date (scrolling through the horrendous film catalogue is actually more enjoyable than watching any of the available dross). As a (probably unintentional) counterbalance, Netflix boasts a documentary library of unexpected breadth and taste. Herzog, Morris, Burns Banksy: they're all available. And so, thanks to Netflix, documentaries are in.

Many of the docs within the Netflix canon address drug use, the drug war and spiders on drugs (we get it, America fetishizes illegal drug use [esp. by arachnids]). These drug-driven films are patently underwhelming, overindulgent paeans to the substance(s) of focus. However, the documentaries that forgo the American drug fetish are true Netflix treasures. Of these non-drug, nonfiction films, one arena has received considerable airtime of late: philosophy. Well-made docs such as The Examined Life and Philosophy: Guide to Happiness have jettisoned philosophers and their field back into the cultural spotlight. And they have an accomplice in New Media, which offers digital salons for philosophers to lecture, opine and squabble. Now that philosophers have re-entered into the global stage of prominence, alongside Gangam Style and Mitt Romney, what role do these traditionally archaic practitioners play in our modern era?

Cartoonist Gary Larson loved to juxtapose two clashing factions next to each other with the caption: "Trouble Brewing," a comical description of the human tendency to  unknowingly create powder kegs (although sometimes, especially at gatherings for the drama-hungry, these powder kegs are willfully incurred). Since philosophy and its spokespersons have found themselves thrown under the same lens that controls (or, conversely, is controlled by) pop culture, two extremely powerful forces are now contained within the lens of New Media. Assuredly, this is "trouble brewing."

Suffice to say that criticizing pop culture is considered hipster's play (similar to child's play, but with an aura of pseudo-intellectualism) by contemporary philosophers. Philosophers don't snap-react to ephemeral pop culture phenomena with vicious criticism (i.e. "Nicki Minaj's oeuvre is a revealing glimpse into the Americana machine"). Instead, the philosopher examines how these phenomena have the traction to actually take place. "What systemic fault motivated Americana to spit out Minaj?" asks the philosopher. For the curious: The answer usually oscillates between the oppressive forces of capitalism and the perversions of American democracy.

With the exception of private high schools and Catholic universities (these academic institutions love to teach Aristotle, then ensconce the unsuspecting student into the world of Thomas Aquinas, a Catholic zealot with an Aristotle Lite philosophy, effectively intellectualizing blind faith), the classic Greek philosophers have been abandoned for their secular German successors. And this remains the case today, with some exceptions: namely Socrates. Plato's subject and teacher became the paradigm for successive philosophers (concerning their lifestyle and facial hair maintenance), and his unwavering adherence to the philosopher's role solidified the brevity of taking up the mantle. This excerpt is from Plato's Apology:

“For if you kill me, you will not easily find another such person at all,  even if to say in a ludicrous way, attached on the city by the god, like on a large and well-bred horse, by its size and laziness both needing arousing by some gadfly; in this way the god seems to have fastened me on the city, some such one who arousing and persuading and reproaching each one of you I do not stop the whole day settling down all over.”

Socrates' gadfly is no longer a novel concept. History's greatest world-shakers act the part, stinging slumbering beasts into action, rousing society to alter its very fibers. To study and practice epistemology and ontology, is to play the gadfly.

Society

It's October 2009 and West Point is beginning to show signs of fall. Plebes have settled in to listen to William Deresiewicz, essayist and past Yale professor, deliver one of many lectures plebes will be exposed to throughout their studies. Deresiewicz, to borrow a phrase, kills it. His speech, "Solitude and Leadership" is subsequently printed in the 2010 spring edition of The American Scholar and disseminated like academic wildfire.

Snapshot summary of the speech's intro: Yale students, much like West Point cadets, are ambitious, intelligent, and good at climbing greased poles to the very top. But, they aren't necessarily true leaders. Here's Deresiewicz's foolproof guide to bureaucratic leadership:

“Kissing up to the people above you, kicking down to the people below you. Pleasing your teachers, pleasing your superiors, picking a powerful mentor and riding his coattails until it’s time to stab him in the back. Jumping through hoops. Getting along by going along. Being whatever other people want you to be, so that it finally comes to seem that . . . you have nothing inside you at all. Not taking stupid risks like trying to change how things are done or question why they’re done. Just keeping the routine going."

The leaders of bureaucratic hierarchy rarely exhibit anything aside from the skills they strap onto their bureaucratic climbing belt. The weight of intelligence and persona is cast off during the ascent up the rock wall, and once on top, the new bureaucratic leaders mindlessly keep "the routine going." Why not? The most effective means to maintain the position gained is playing within the preset rules — improvising a new identity leaves the position too exposed to usurpation by someone willing to abide.

Bureaucracy is America's great anathema. Deresiewicz appeals to his audience to rail against bureaucracy's dehumanizing power and maintain the solitude of a free thinking leader while functioning within the greatest bureaucratic machine of all, the United States Army. The army is a great Leviathan, warns Deresiewicz; refuse to become a cog and fritter away creativity and independence.

The Gadfly

"Solitude and Leadership" surfaces the chaff, but shirks the role of the gadfly. Instead of denouncing bureaucracies as an inefficient and oppressive offshoot of American governance and procedure outright, Deresiewicz urges future leaders to retain independent and creative leadership within the massive bureaucracy of the United States Army. Don't refuse the incoming shackles of militant bureaucracy, advises Deresiewicz, submit but keep your essence intact. How much different is this bureaucratic free-thinker from a slave with a penchant for independence?  

Often on prominent display, Slavoj Žižek is radical philosophy incarnate. Hirsute, animated, staggeringly intelligent and expectedly misanthropic (it comes with the cognitive territory), Žižek is the "hero Gotham deserves". Or, to draw from the Socratic quote, he and his contemporaries have been attached to our epoch "by the god." Žižek  and co. (Tariq Ali, Alain Badiou, Noam Chomsky) practice the art of ripping our society a new one, prompting incisive questions that beget awkward pauses and shuffling of feet from the addressed. They largely function to upset the status quo (or, bureaucratic routine).

Perspective: Deresiewicz compels the future bureaucratic leaders of America to avoid succumbing to individual distillation via bureaucracy. Žižek and co. demand that the intelligent demolish bureaucracy, expunge it from our epoch  (Žižek will synecdochally represent modern philosophy in this piece. Not because he epitomizes the zeitgeist. He's simply the most visible and vocal member [and physically resembles the philosopher stereotype]. Please note that the philosophical vanguard of today disagree on a vast array of topics; Žižek’s theories are as representative of his contemporaries as Mitt Romney represents Joe Sixpack).

Here's an excerpt from Žižek's Self-Deceptions: On Being Tolerant and Smug:

“Instead, one should “let oneself go,” drift along, while retaining an inner distance and indifference toward the mad dance of the accelerated process. Such distance is based on the insight that all of the upheaval is ultimately just a non-substantial proliferation of semblances that do not really concern the innermost kernel of our being. Here, one is almost tempted to resuscitate the old, infamous Marxist cliché of religion as “the opium of the people,” as the imaginary supplement of real-life misery. The “Western Buddhist” meditative stance is arguably the most efficient way for us to fully participate in the capitalist economy while retaining the appearance of sanity.”

Žižek derides Western Buddhism (practicing Buddhadharma within the rigors of capitalism) as a sanctioned process of coping with the capitalist agenda. It's the means of "retaining . . .  sanity" while still participating "in the capitalist economy." Deresiewicz's speech runs similar to the ideals of Western Buddhism, retaining the individual amid the mitigating forces of bureaucratic routine. The criticism Žižek ladles onto the ideals of Western Buddhism apply to Deresiewicz's characterization of the free-thinking bureaucrat (Deresiewicz could argue that unadulterated and original thinking disassociates an individual from functioning as a bureaucrat, but to participate within bureaucracy is to condone, to become a bureaucrat). Deresiewicz prepares the best and brightest to keep their essence within the oppression of bureaucratic rigamarole, while Žižek denies any possibility of retaining individualism under the guise of bureaucratic oppression.

The core difference between the two demonstrates why the modern era demands philosophers like Žižek.  Deresiewicz advises his listeners and readers on remaining to remain creative and independent within a machine that rewards conformity. As Žižek outlines the illusion of Western Buddhism, he also forces those who examine "Solitude and Leadership" to question whether creativity and independence within bureaucracy are true representations of self, or perversions: bureaucratically condoned individualism.

This is the role of the modern philosopher: to compel us to always question; to force life under the microscope; to play the gadfly and keep the trouble brewing.

Author Bio:

Tyler Huggins is a contributing writer at Highbrow Magazine.

Photos: Andy Miah, Zidd Razan (Creative Commons); Paintings: Gerard von Honthurst; Raphael Sanzio.