Gore Capitalism (2018), Sayak Valencia

Abstract

A book review of Gore Capitalism (2018), Sayak Valencia’s post-structuralist critique of contemporary neoliberal economic practices and globalisation. It focuses upon Valencia’s analyses of the effect of this paradigmatic logic upon third world economies, in particular, that of Tijuana, Mexico.

Introduction

Sayak Valencia’s Gore Capitalism is a highly engaging, harrowing and provocative read. Situating Tijuana as a ‘post-apocalyptic landscape’ (p. 189), a city in which 40% of the inhabitants live below the poverty line, whilst less than 20 miles south of the border from the first world wealth of San Diego, and as a lens through which to critique how neoliberalism has saturated contemporary socio-economic discourse, Valencia’s analysis is both acute and timely.

Neoliberalism

Valencia proposes ‘gore capitalism’ to refer to a stage in its development whereby the effects of globalization are manifest in problematic ways. Namely, through how first world economies infiltrate those of poorer nations in order to manipulate markets to address their gross consumption needs. Gore capitalism is understood as the ‘systematically uncontrolled and contradictory dimension of the neoliberal project’ (p. 26). The logic of neoliberal economics dictates a trickle down effect, whereby the accumulation of wealth for those most privileged will result in material improvements for those poorest. Given the gross inequality in Mexico, which until recently was home to the world’s wealthiest individual, Telcel owner Carlos Slimm, it is clear that neoliberalism only serves those with existing wealth (for further contemporary analyses on inequality, readers are advised to consult recent works by Danny Dorling, or Kate Pickett and Richard Wilkinson, for example). For the least privileged, Valencia argues that the logic of neoliberalism and capitalism is destructive, So much so, that it reduces ‘campesinos’ (peasant farmers) to cooperate with drug traffickers, attempt emigration to the United States, or suicide. These ‘are among the few options left open under neoliberalism’s ferocious logic’ (p. 106). From Mexico to India, farmer suicides are an all too commonplace occurrence under this logic of the economic imperative.

Drawing upon the post-structuralism of Foucault, that is, a rejection of a human subject’s ability to account for the complexity of the world by reducing it to simple binary oppositions, Valencia argues that neoliberalism aims to extend the rationality of the market into the intimate discourses of family life, ‘without taking into account that freedom in economic processes can produce social inequalities’ (p. 40). One need only think of the contemporary society of ‘big data’, where everything from productivity at one’s place of employment (regardless of the sector), to who one dates — using apps — is reduced to algorithms, a logic of efficiency and the ‘bottom line’.

Criminal Economy

Gore capitalism is not exhausted by the logic of neoliberalism; ‘drug trafficking is currently the largest economy in the world’ (p. 27). Echoing a Foucauldian analyses of the ‘capillaries’ of power, that ‘drug money flows freely through the arteries of global financial systems’ (p. 27) is a clear example of gore capitalism. With the criminal economy estimated to make up 15% of global commerce (p. 24), gore capitalism has a marked effect upon socio-economic policy. Ever since the deregulation of financial markets in the UK and US during the 1970s, government has increasingly seen its function as that of representing the polis, morph into that of placating economic powerhouses (the financial bailouts of 2008 being a prime example of this shift in the primary function of government). Therefore, in an age when the economic imperative is central, everything is commodifiable: ‘drugs, weapons, bodies, contract killers’ (p. 62). Considering that the financial crash was built upon disingenous loans, speculation and trading of derivatives, in effect, nothing tangible, gore capitalist practices are but an extension of legitimized ones that take place in the bright, shiny lights of the world’s financial districts. This contemporary set of affairs leads Valencia to ask: ‘what has happened to work?’ (p. 69).

Endriago subjects

Valencia posits the concept of endriago subjects. These are ‘businessmen who apply and synthesize the most abhorrent neoliberal demands and logics’ (p. 215). What results is capitalism at its goriest. These figures embody the Scarface-esque figure of a ‘self-made’ entrepreneur. Valencia highlights that ‘entrepreneur’ has positive colloquial connotations, and can be defined as ‘someone who identifies an opportunity and organizes the necessary resources to put it into operation’ (p. 63). Within the prevailing logic of neoliberalism, and gore capitalism as its extension, this definition is by no means limited to legal practices. Indeed, the Chechen mafia, Valencia notes, has become renowned as the ‘McMafia, having franchised their services in a transnational manner’ (p. 155). These endriago subjects do not aim to resist the demands of neoliberalism. Rather, they enact brutal violence as tools of, what Valencia terms, necroempowerment (p. 20).

Violence

In necroempowerment, the strategies employed by endriagos in response of a hyperconsumerist First World culture of rampant capital accumulation are necessarily ultraviolent (p. 20). Valencia notes the irony that academic theorists situated within the First World pay scant philosophical regard to the effects of violence in formal discourse. She argues that ‘this appears paradoxical in light of the fact that violence has intensified in the last century, becoming the decisive issue for the West and for contemporary life, and an essential paradigm for the present moment’ (p. 33). The violence she speaks of is not solely material in its ‘bloody utilization’, but also in its media representation (p. 35). Valencia asserts that ‘what the media seeks to do is legitimate its existence and impede actions by society to counter it’ (p. 238). Whilst there is certainly credence to this observation, it is not specific enough, nor does it include examples, of how this occurs. One can immediately think of independent media channels through YouTube, as well as news broadcasters such as RT, for example, that whilst perhaps not proffering courses of action, do not prima facie appear to either legitimate violence, or impede actions to counter it.

Again, utilising a Foucauldian post-structuralist lens, Valencia observes that the paradigm of violence dictates how socio-cultural life is organised. This in turn, she argues, has not been sufficiently analysed through philosophical discourse in relation to ‘contemporary economic, social, political and cultural conditions’ (p. 36). In a paradigm where violence has been normalised, Valencia argues that the categories of ‘legitimacy’ and ‘illegitimacy’ have been blurred (pp. 62–63). She argues that amidst the rationale of neoliberalism, ‘the monopoly on violence has been put up for auction, and organized crime is making the highest bid’ (pp. 62–63).

Complicity

Valencia utilizes the acute voice of Subcomandante Marcos, former spokesperson for the Zapatistas, an indigenous anti-establishment, and vehemently anti neoliberal social movement located in an autonomous region in Chiapas, Mexico. In response to the paradigm of violence in which all are enmeshed, Marcos asks ‘On which side of the mirror is the criminal? On which side that pursuer?’ (Subcomandante Marcos, Our Word is our Weapon, 1997, p. 61). Whilst the ‘marriage of economics, politics and globalization’ purports to benefit all, including the world’s least privileged, the reality is an ‘uncritical and hyperconsumerist social consciousness that rolls out the red carpet for overt systems of control and surveillance’ (p. 43). In the USA alone, more individuals are likely to die falling out of bed, than because of a terrorist attack (Huffington Post, 6 Dec 2017), and polls taken involving the public (The Economist, 24 Dec 2010) indicate that the travelling public do not feel any safer with the increase in airport security measures. Considering the facebook data leaks scandal of 2018, as well as the implementation of General Data Protection Regulation in the UK (2018), Valencia’s argument that the ‘existence of these [surveillance] systems is thought to be logical, acceptable and demanded by society itself’ (p. 43), requires further analysis, as it does not appear to withstand scrutiny.

Hope on a tightrope

Whilst Valencia paints a harrowing picture of the contemporary, global socio-economic milieu, she also offer glimmers of hope. Echoing Subcomandante Marcos, she asks the reader to critically reflect upon their enmeshment within the predominant paradigm of violence: ‘What is my responsibility in the face of my own consumption of gore images?’ (p. 234). Valencia’s position is one of immanent critique. She argues that one must ‘cease to see ‘‘pure’’ and direct resistance as the only possible strategy’ (p. 226). Instead, ‘recognizing this system for what it is can lead us to act in critical and self-aware ways’ (p. 111). By making violence visible, ‘we might create a critical consciousness and resistance that could lead to active engagement and the joint creation of responsible intersubjective agreements, endowed with agency’ (p. 288). In sum, this is a highly acute and timely text which will appeal to a wide readership. Valencia’s passion and concern is clear to see, without, overall, compromising the construction of a sound intellectual argument.

Sunny Dhillon is all too acutely aware how entrapped he is in gore capitalism’s grasp. He is increasingly sympathetic towards the anti-natalist thought of Peter Zapffe, as well as the anarcho-primitivism of John Zerzan.