We Must Reclaim the Arts

In World War I, we lost an entire generation of talent to the senseless machinations of global politics. We are now in danger of losing entire generations of artists—writers, filmmakers, musicians, comedians—to the political orthodoxy usually called ‘woke’.

This is not a new realisation for me. It is a large part of why I gave up on comedy after eleven years of fairly psychologically demanding labour. I saw no way forward in a medium that was expressly set against straight white men. To point this out would invariably be met with the critique ‘maybe you’re just not good enough’. Which was possibly true. But in explicitly and repeatedly foregrounding their anti-white, anti-male agenda, the comedy industry made it impossible for one to ever solve this meritocratic riddle. In short: you would never truly know if you were ‘good enough’.

Looking at the publishing world, things seem even worse. The only contemporary fiction writers I can think of who aren’t woke or Leftist are Michel Houellebecq and my recent podcast guest Lionel Shriver. There may be more I am missing (please let me know) but the field looks rather barren. Even these two established themselves before wokeness became the norm (and of course Houellebecq is French, where woke has failed to fully penetrate the thick Gallic smoke of elitist contempt).

And it is not just so-called literary fiction. I recently watched a video by Jon Del Arroz, a non-woke science fiction writer, who reveals his own struggles in publishing, and points out that even a New York Times writer can’t get a fantasy novel published on grounds of being a white male. The same agenda is well-documented in TV and film. One thinks of the endless woke violations of Star Wars, and now Tolkien with the abomination that is The Rings of Power. The video gaming industry has famously gone the same way.

We all know all this of course. But recently my old anger around the topic has returned, as the scale of the cultural vandalism dawns on me. It is not that this political agenda cost me over a decade of my life. It is that it continues to rob us all of the realisation of our talents, the enjoyment and enlightenment of each other’s talents, and the deep need we as humans have for art and storytelling itself.

In refusing to accept work based on the author or creator’s immutable characteristics, and in turning down any content whose Weltanschauung hints at the Western-centric, the patriarchal, the heteronormative, or whatever other buzzword is popular that week, the corrupt custodians of culture commit several crimes against art. One, they allow the personal traits of the artist to cancel out the work itself (something which used to be considered the most base philistinism). Two, they place political considerations over aesthetic quality. Three, they are wildly overconfident in the moral legitimacy of the current orthodoxy. Four, they prioritise collectivism and conformity in mediums that are the specific preserve of individuality and uniqueness.

The belief that they have the right to quash a single Bret Easton Ellis, Quentin Tarantino, Knut Hamsun, or Norm Macdonald is the most obscene hubris on the part of these cultural gatekeepers. Yet would any of this random selection of white (not even all straight) male savages make it if they were starting out in the woke world?

Even at the peak of Gen X freedom, Ellis only just made it past his publisher’s taste filters with Less Than Zero, and American Psycho was dropped by its original intended publisher. These days one feels he wouldn’t stand a chance. Would Tarantino’s violent, N-word laden, straight white male-heavy films get made now if he was an unknown? The violence would probably be welcomed, but I doubt much else would survive. His scripts would be given to a ‘bi-romantic asexual’ director, who would use a series of test screenings to remove any parts the audience actually enjoyed.

Knut Hamsun’s seminal Hunger, a strong contender for greatest novel of all time, would be ruled out on grounds of being the narcissistic ramblings of a self-involved straight white male. Norm Macdonald, the greatest comedian of all time, would be cancelled for a small slip on a podcast, much like Shane Gillis. Some appearances on Joe Rogan’s show would save him, and he would come back and attain a smaller cult following.

But on the whole, these sui generis geniuses would be crushed. Or at very least, we don’t know for sure that they wouldn’t be, and that is bad enough.

The political stupidities of the current orthodoxy can hardly be overstated. We are at risk of destroying the West entirely, and seeing our countries turn into violent, unstable hellscapes to rival South Africa, or Venezuela, or worse. But in fighting this political battle, we may sometimes forget part of what we are fighting for. Which, to me, is the creation of a culture where art can thrive; where people can bring all their God-given talents to bear on the greatest questions facing humanity. Which remain the same as ever. Why are we here? Is there a God? What happens after death? What is love? Should women vote?

Okay that last one was a joke. But the point is, when politics consumes art, we are left with that which is trivial, temporary, and expedient. None of this woke work will stand the test of time, except as the demonstration of a mania that prevailed in a deranged period of history. Perhaps some glimpses of subtle rebellion will survive, like a composer sneaking in an occasional passage of beauty whilst working for a despotic king. But even that seems unlikely, as the woke chokehold on the arts is firmer than the wildest dreams of any tyrannical monarch.

Allen Ginsberg famously wrote ‘I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness’. His poem, ‘Howl’, faced an obscenity trial, and we now have obscenity trials of our own. Except that ours never even reach the court, such is the efficiency of our art-suppressing systems. And instead of drugs and sex, the suspect qualities to be stamped out are now masculinity, the Western outlook, aspiration, elitism of any kind, the hero’s journey, the primacy of the aesthetic, truly irreverent humour, any claims regarding the reality of natural law—and many more besides.

There is no shortage of books explaining our predicament. There are whole shelves of well-written dissections of woke by very clever people, some of whom are my personal friends. But it is time to go beyond diagnosing the problem and start aggressively reclaiming the arts. For me that means seeking a way back to some new creative expression after hitting that brick wall in comedy. What it means for you, I will let you decide.

But if we don’t rebel, not just politically but through our art, we will be forced to lament, like some red-pilled Ginsberg: ‘I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by wokeness’.

For more on this topic, check out my recent podcast with Andrew Doyle here. We start discussing art vs politics at 17:22 in the video version, 17:36 in the audio.