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Why bullshit rules in Brussels
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Julian
Dec 2, 2021, 5:33:54 AM12/2/21
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The €300bn Global Gateway initiative is a prime example
BULLSHIT IS a surprisingly rich seam of philosophical inquiry. “On
Bullshit”, a short essay by Harry Frankfurt, an American philosopher,
became a bestselling book. Since its publication in 1986, the essence of
the stuff has been chewed over, with thinkers ranging from Wittgenstein
to St Augustine invoked to help understand it. The field of inquiry was
even given its own name: taurascatics. Examining the theory of
bullshit—“indifference to how things really are” in Mr Frankfurt’s
formulation—is now a well-trodden path. To see bullshit in practice,
head to Brussels.
Consider the EU’s Global Gateway initiative, launched on December 1st.
It is a sprawling scheme that will supposedly result in €300bn ($340bn)
of investment in infrastructure across the developing world by 2027.
Diplomats compare it to the “Belt and Road Initiative”, which China uses
to expand its influence. Beneath the spin lurks bullshit. It is not just
the language (the scheme is based on “a Team Europe approach”) but the
content. The €300bn is mainly a mixture of existing commitments, loan
guarantees and heroic assumptions about the ability of the club to
“crowd in” private investment, rather than actual new spending. Even the
threat it is designed to counter is overdone: Japan quietly invests far
more than China on infrastructure in Asia, for example. It is a
perfectly good idea; but it is simply caked in bullshit.
Anywhere politicians, journalists, wonks and lobbyists gather tends to
produce a surplus of bullshit. But the EU’s de facto capital is
especially prone to it. It is a city of great power but little scrutiny.
Media attention is still focused on national capitals. Mr Frankfurt
wrote that bullshit is “unavoidable whenever circumstances require
someone to talk without knowing what he is talking about”. In Brussels
this happens every day. Those inside the bubble are expected to keep on
top of judicial reform in Poland, coalition formation in Sweden as well
as the grand sweep of geopolitics. A deep knowledge of the domestic
politics of 27 countries and an encyclopedic understanding of how the
EU’s institutions work (in theory and in practice) is both necessary and
impossible. Some bullshitting is inevitable.
Inhabitants of the bubble are reluctant to call it out. Brussels is a
cosy place. The same people attend the same events, making the same
points about topics that would be unintelligible to a passer-by who
sneaked in for the free sandwiches. Disagreements on panels are rare. A
soporific consensus is the norm. Admitting that the EU’s policy in the
Indo-Pacific barely matters would send its authors, and the assembled
wonks who pored over it, into an existential tailspin. Ignoring how
things really are, as Mr Frankfurt explains, is the essence of bullshit.
Much as all models are wrong but some are useful, there is good bullshit
and bad bullshit. All bullshitters are winging it, but some get it
right. At one end of the spectrum are total chancers. One EU
talking-head conned TV channels into putting him on air, even though the
“think-tank” he ran had a spelling error in its title, stock images for
staff and existed mainly in his head. At the other end are the usual
array of well-funded wonks (and columnists) opining on whatever
dominates the day, with a degree of intelligence if not always insight.
But sometimes all that separates the two is the cash for a glossy
website and proofreaders.
Bullshit lurks at the heart of the EU’s legitimacy. In other political
systems, a government wields an electoral mandate. In Brussels, laws
stem from the European Commission, which is not directly elected and yet
must still act in the European interest. Determining this interest is
often done by surveys, which can yield misleading results. (An EU-funded
survey in March 2017, taken nine months after the Brexit vote, revealed
that only a quarter of Britons believed that membership of the EU was a
bad thing.) Strange as it may seem, when politics is absent, bullshit
has free rein.
Boredom can breed bullshit. For all the late-night suspense of conclaves
of the European Council, in essence they are just long meetings to argue
about revisions to a document. Diplomats who offer the juiciest bits of
gossip know that their views will be reflected best. The upshot is that
even the blandest summit is jazzed up for the sake of hungry hacks.
Likewise, crunch points rarely crunch in the EU. Deadlines are an
invention of diplomats attempting to create pressure and journalists
trying to create peril. In either case, they are nearly always bullshit.
Called to ordure
It is possible to build a career on bullshit in Brussels. A young Boris
Johnson made his name in the city as a Euro-bashing journalist from the
Daily Telegraph. What is striking is that the outrageous stories—whether
on condom regulation or the bendiness of bananas—were never outright
fabrications. Instead, they were, often, bullshit. That made them harder
to counter. A takedown of the bendy-banana myth focused on the fact that
it was not “Brussels bureaucrats” who decided to regulate them, but
national governments which pushed for changes to existing EU
regulations. A pedantic clarification missed the wider truth: the
curvature of bananas in Europe is a supranational matter. A bullshit
attack was countered with a defence that was also bullshit.
If bullshit can be an opportunity in Brussels, it is also a prison.
“Bullshit jobs”, as the anthropologist David Graeber called them in
another addition to taurascatics, are rife within the EU. Most officials
dealing with big topics in Brussels are intelligent and diligent. Stay
in Brussels long enough, however, and sad souls who are overpaid and
underworked reveal themselves. The perks, which range from fat pensions
to an expat allowance that cancels out any tax due, are simply too good
to give up. Outside the institutions, youngsters with dreams of building
Europe instead find themselves lobbying for the aluminium industry or
Kazakhstan. Each day is a scramble to justify a sorry existence. The
result? More bullshit shovelled into a system already overflowing with it. ■
BULLSHIT IS a surprisingly rich seam of philosophical inquiry. “On
Bullshit”, a short essay by Harry Frankfurt, an American philosopher,
became a bestselling book. Since its publication in 1986, the essence of
the stuff has been chewed over, with thinkers ranging from Wittgenstein
to St Augustine invoked to help understand it. The field of inquiry was
even given its own name: taurascatics. Examining the theory of
bullshit—“indifference to how things really are” in Mr Frankfurt’s
formulation—is now a well-trodden path. To see bullshit in practice,
head to Brussels.
Consider the EU’s Global Gateway initiative, launched on December 1st.
It is a sprawling scheme that will supposedly result in €300bn ($340bn)
of investment in infrastructure across the developing world by 2027.
Diplomats compare it to the “Belt and Road Initiative”, which China uses
to expand its influence. Beneath the spin lurks bullshit. It is not just
the language (the scheme is based on “a Team Europe approach”) but the
content. The €300bn is mainly a mixture of existing commitments, loan
guarantees and heroic assumptions about the ability of the club to
“crowd in” private investment, rather than actual new spending. Even the
threat it is designed to counter is overdone: Japan quietly invests far
more than China on infrastructure in Asia, for example. It is a
perfectly good idea; but it is simply caked in bullshit.
Anywhere politicians, journalists, wonks and lobbyists gather tends to
produce a surplus of bullshit. But the EU’s de facto capital is
especially prone to it. It is a city of great power but little scrutiny.
Media attention is still focused on national capitals. Mr Frankfurt
wrote that bullshit is “unavoidable whenever circumstances require
someone to talk without knowing what he is talking about”. In Brussels
this happens every day. Those inside the bubble are expected to keep on
top of judicial reform in Poland, coalition formation in Sweden as well
as the grand sweep of geopolitics. A deep knowledge of the domestic
politics of 27 countries and an encyclopedic understanding of how the
EU’s institutions work (in theory and in practice) is both necessary and
impossible. Some bullshitting is inevitable.
Inhabitants of the bubble are reluctant to call it out. Brussels is a
cosy place. The same people attend the same events, making the same
points about topics that would be unintelligible to a passer-by who
sneaked in for the free sandwiches. Disagreements on panels are rare. A
soporific consensus is the norm. Admitting that the EU’s policy in the
Indo-Pacific barely matters would send its authors, and the assembled
wonks who pored over it, into an existential tailspin. Ignoring how
things really are, as Mr Frankfurt explains, is the essence of bullshit.
Much as all models are wrong but some are useful, there is good bullshit
and bad bullshit. All bullshitters are winging it, but some get it
right. At one end of the spectrum are total chancers. One EU
talking-head conned TV channels into putting him on air, even though the
“think-tank” he ran had a spelling error in its title, stock images for
staff and existed mainly in his head. At the other end are the usual
array of well-funded wonks (and columnists) opining on whatever
dominates the day, with a degree of intelligence if not always insight.
But sometimes all that separates the two is the cash for a glossy
website and proofreaders.
Bullshit lurks at the heart of the EU’s legitimacy. In other political
systems, a government wields an electoral mandate. In Brussels, laws
stem from the European Commission, which is not directly elected and yet
must still act in the European interest. Determining this interest is
often done by surveys, which can yield misleading results. (An EU-funded
survey in March 2017, taken nine months after the Brexit vote, revealed
that only a quarter of Britons believed that membership of the EU was a
bad thing.) Strange as it may seem, when politics is absent, bullshit
has free rein.
Boredom can breed bullshit. For all the late-night suspense of conclaves
of the European Council, in essence they are just long meetings to argue
about revisions to a document. Diplomats who offer the juiciest bits of
gossip know that their views will be reflected best. The upshot is that
even the blandest summit is jazzed up for the sake of hungry hacks.
Likewise, crunch points rarely crunch in the EU. Deadlines are an
invention of diplomats attempting to create pressure and journalists
trying to create peril. In either case, they are nearly always bullshit.
Called to ordure
It is possible to build a career on bullshit in Brussels. A young Boris
Johnson made his name in the city as a Euro-bashing journalist from the
Daily Telegraph. What is striking is that the outrageous stories—whether
on condom regulation or the bendiness of bananas—were never outright
fabrications. Instead, they were, often, bullshit. That made them harder
to counter. A takedown of the bendy-banana myth focused on the fact that
it was not “Brussels bureaucrats” who decided to regulate them, but
national governments which pushed for changes to existing EU
regulations. A pedantic clarification missed the wider truth: the
curvature of bananas in Europe is a supranational matter. A bullshit
attack was countered with a defence that was also bullshit.
If bullshit can be an opportunity in Brussels, it is also a prison.
“Bullshit jobs”, as the anthropologist David Graeber called them in
another addition to taurascatics, are rife within the EU. Most officials
dealing with big topics in Brussels are intelligent and diligent. Stay
in Brussels long enough, however, and sad souls who are overpaid and
underworked reveal themselves. The perks, which range from fat pensions
to an expat allowance that cancels out any tax due, are simply too good
to give up. Outside the institutions, youngsters with dreams of building
Europe instead find themselves lobbying for the aluminium industry or
Kazakhstan. Each day is a scramble to justify a sorry existence. The
result? More bullshit shovelled into a system already overflowing with it. ■
Noah Sombrero
Dec 2, 2021, 8:53:48 AM12/2/21
to
On Thu, 2 Dec 2021 10:33:54 +0000, Julian <julia...@gmail.com>
wrote:
>The €300bn Global Gateway initiative is a prime example
>
>
>BULLSHIT IS a surprisingly rich seam of philosophical inquiry. “On
>Bullshit”, a short essay by Harry Frankfurt, an American philosopher,
>became a bestselling book. Since its publication in 1986, the essence of
>the stuff has been chewed over, with thinkers ranging from Wittgenstein
>to St Augustine invoked to help understand it. The field of inquiry was
>even given its own name: taurascatics. Examining the theory of
>bullshit—“indifference to how things really are” in Mr Frankfurt’s
>formulation—is now a well-trodden path. To see bullshit in practice,
>head to Brussels.
Interesting beginning. Too bad you then descend into bs.
>result? More bullshit shovelled into a system already overflowing with it. ?
--
Noah Sombrero
wrote:
>The €300bn Global Gateway initiative is a prime example
>
>
>BULLSHIT IS a surprisingly rich seam of philosophical inquiry. “On
>Bullshit”, a short essay by Harry Frankfurt, an American philosopher,
>became a bestselling book. Since its publication in 1986, the essence of
>the stuff has been chewed over, with thinkers ranging from Wittgenstein
>to St Augustine invoked to help understand it. The field of inquiry was
>even given its own name: taurascatics. Examining the theory of
>bullshit—“indifference to how things really are” in Mr Frankfurt’s
>formulation—is now a well-trodden path. To see bullshit in practice,
>head to Brussels.
--
Noah Sombrero
Sanford Manley
Dec 2, 2021, 8:58:51 AM12/2/21
to
--
Sanford M. Manley
"Trying to be right all the time
is a very subtle way of being wrong."
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