It is not unusual to find artists on theleft (at least the self-identified left) who are very wary of the idea of ideological boycotts of artists. That is, boycotts—or really, often just failures to consume what would otherwise be consumed—of this or that book or film based on the creator's politics. Or even just blathering. In addition to the two links above, Brust and Doctorow about Ender's Game, I remember Terry Bisson on Facebook objecting to the idea of boycotting Michelle Shocked after her weird meltdown this past spring. He felt it was too similar to what the Dixie Chicks faced for coming out against the Iraq War. As if people were busy going to Michelle Shocked shows or buying her records anyway. That's why she was playing a jazz club on a fucking Sunday. The Dixie Chicks had a career. Still do!
Now the boycott is a traditional left tool. It's essentially a strike of consumption. Don't eat grapes until... don't patronize the Hyatt unless... Boycotts serve the dual purpose: it's an economic weapon, and also an intervention into changing the public consciousness. This is why boycotts are necessarily collective endeavors. There is no such thing as an individual boycotting anything; you're either part of a boycott or just failing to consume. So Skip Ender's Game is an actual boycott, see? It's a movement. It's seeking both economic influence and consciousness raising. (If there's an easy way to see who has signed the Skip pledge, I can't find it at that link without also signing it myself at the very least. Well, nobody's perfect.)
The wariness from sections of the left is easy enough to figure out: they're worried they'll be next. The worm always turns; who knows what might upset activists on the other end of the spectrum. Other leftists don't worry about the specter of boycotts: anti-capitalist artists are often already divorced from the mass market. Who the hell would boycott me, for example? Everybody already doesn't buy my books. Of course, one could boycott editors who solicit me for short fiction, but given the very occasional royalties I get from anthologies—five bucks, sometimes twenty bucks—it's not like anyone is buying those books either. (Note the icon on this post. I don't care.)
Further, the boycott-as-blacklist simply doesn't work as a political operation from below. Blacklists are effective when a cartel is either making secret decisions, or when a state compels capitals to take some action. There are too many holes in a blacklist otherwise, because the political consciousness of a boycott—an organic, grassroots consciousness—is lacking. Blacklists don't come from below. Steve Brust is correct that the left doesn't backlist, but he is confused as to why: it lacks the power to do so. It's not a moral issue, though moralism is being used in this case as a defense.
More seriously, there are plenty of artists who write for politicized audiences on both the right and left—stop into a religious bookstore sometime. Far leftists often have small politicized audiences that are augmented by audiences of aesthetic explorers, as does the far right. (Did you burn your Death in June CDs when you found out...?) But these artists are essentially immune from boycott because they exist at the far ends of the political spectrum, and their politics show in their work.
So what's left are the artists (or "artists") in the mass market. Boycotts can be meaningful in the mass market, as the less politicized section of the audience can be compelled to skip a movie or book they might otherwise consume, and controversy-averse capitals may just cut out while the cutting out is still good. Of course, sometimes boycotts are the best advertising!
An old Marxian saw comes to mind: being determines consciousness. (See, it's important so I used every button available to me.)
It is no surprise that left artists with mainstream levels of success are hesitant to call for boycotts against artists, and willing to speak out against them—to speak out against them as a matter of principle even. We saw the same from the right last year, which to their shame, many supposed liberals celebrated:
(I saw this video on Facebook a couple dozen times in a week.)
What sort of consciousness does a left being who is wary of boycotts has? Well, as O'Reilly points out, the issue is "business." Separating the art from the artist is not at issue: one can easily separate the art from the artist by prowling used bookstores, or watching films when they come on television, or good ol' fashioned shoplifting. (Artists with non-business consciousness may may encourage this. I laughed to see that Tower died ignominiously, Blockbuster is doing the same, but Chumbawumba went out with style. Business consciousness, not an estimation that art can exist distinct from the artist, is what is driving the nervousness over boycotts. Here's another example of that, from a fish sufficiently small that there's nothing to lose in explicitly discussing her business consciousness.
Now, will I be boycotting Ender's Game? No. Will I be going to see it? It's exceedingly unlikely—I have no interest in the film, it looks ridiculous, and I'm often too busy to see movies these days. If it's so terrible that people offer to pay me to watch it, as has happened in the past, I might, as the $50 in my pocket will do more good than the extra $00.01 in Card's will do evil. As far as my opinion of Orson Scott Card, I tend to see him as a pitiable figure, not a hateful one. I was never a huge fan—I liked the first three Ender books fine enough but never had the impulse to do more than that. The Worthing Saga is still worth reading. I was asked, once, why I worked "with" Card on the book Getting Lost and I can only say that I did no such thing. My essay was solicited by the folks at Smart Pop books, and then after the book was compiled, Card was brought in as a figurehead editor to write little introductions to each piece. In mine, he revealed that he once weighed over 300 pounds. Olivia, when she read the piece, thought that I had once weighed that much! Card never "betrayed" me with his opinions; I just suspect without evidence that he's a giant closet case who got stepped on by his church and is now as vicious as any true-believing convert. But there's no reason for me to declare that I am joining the boycott because I am already not going to see the movie.
What I'm interested in is how artists should engage political questions like this one. Artists tend to be aesthetic explorers—the same small sliver of the population that can consume extreme politics and aesthetics—so it feels right and proper to make an artistic argument against boycotts. There are great fascist artists, great Maoist artists, you name it. So it can be a challenge when a great artist faces public displeasure for political reasons. In this case, however, we're not talking about great art, so the worries about boycotting Ender's Game feel to me like something other than artistic consciousness, and more like business consciousness.
Now the boycott is a traditional left tool. It's essentially a strike of consumption. Don't eat grapes until... don't patronize the Hyatt unless... Boycotts serve the dual purpose: it's an economic weapon, and also an intervention into changing the public consciousness. This is why boycotts are necessarily collective endeavors. There is no such thing as an individual boycotting anything; you're either part of a boycott or just failing to consume. So Skip Ender's Game is an actual boycott, see? It's a movement. It's seeking both economic influence and consciousness raising. (If there's an easy way to see who has signed the Skip pledge, I can't find it at that link without also signing it myself at the very least. Well, nobody's perfect.)
The wariness from sections of the left is easy enough to figure out: they're worried they'll be next. The worm always turns; who knows what might upset activists on the other end of the spectrum. Other leftists don't worry about the specter of boycotts: anti-capitalist artists are often already divorced from the mass market. Who the hell would boycott me, for example? Everybody already doesn't buy my books. Of course, one could boycott editors who solicit me for short fiction, but given the very occasional royalties I get from anthologies—five bucks, sometimes twenty bucks—it's not like anyone is buying those books either. (Note the icon on this post. I don't care.)
Further, the boycott-as-blacklist simply doesn't work as a political operation from below. Blacklists are effective when a cartel is either making secret decisions, or when a state compels capitals to take some action. There are too many holes in a blacklist otherwise, because the political consciousness of a boycott—an organic, grassroots consciousness—is lacking. Blacklists don't come from below. Steve Brust is correct that the left doesn't backlist, but he is confused as to why: it lacks the power to do so. It's not a moral issue, though moralism is being used in this case as a defense.
More seriously, there are plenty of artists who write for politicized audiences on both the right and left—stop into a religious bookstore sometime. Far leftists often have small politicized audiences that are augmented by audiences of aesthetic explorers, as does the far right. (Did you burn your Death in June CDs when you found out...?) But these artists are essentially immune from boycott because they exist at the far ends of the political spectrum, and their politics show in their work.
So what's left are the artists (or "artists") in the mass market. Boycotts can be meaningful in the mass market, as the less politicized section of the audience can be compelled to skip a movie or book they might otherwise consume, and controversy-averse capitals may just cut out while the cutting out is still good. Of course, sometimes boycotts are the best advertising!
An old Marxian saw comes to mind: being determines consciousness. (See, it's important so I used every button available to me.)
It is no surprise that left artists with mainstream levels of success are hesitant to call for boycotts against artists, and willing to speak out against them—to speak out against them as a matter of principle even. We saw the same from the right last year, which to their shame, many supposed liberals celebrated:
(I saw this video on Facebook a couple dozen times in a week.)
What sort of consciousness does a left being who is wary of boycotts has? Well, as O'Reilly points out, the issue is "business." Separating the art from the artist is not at issue: one can easily separate the art from the artist by prowling used bookstores, or watching films when they come on television, or good ol' fashioned shoplifting. (Artists with non-business consciousness may may encourage this. I laughed to see that Tower died ignominiously, Blockbuster is doing the same, but Chumbawumba went out with style. Business consciousness, not an estimation that art can exist distinct from the artist, is what is driving the nervousness over boycotts. Here's another example of that, from a fish sufficiently small that there's nothing to lose in explicitly discussing her business consciousness.
Now, will I be boycotting Ender's Game? No. Will I be going to see it? It's exceedingly unlikely—I have no interest in the film, it looks ridiculous, and I'm often too busy to see movies these days. If it's so terrible that people offer to pay me to watch it, as has happened in the past, I might, as the $50 in my pocket will do more good than the extra $00.01 in Card's will do evil. As far as my opinion of Orson Scott Card, I tend to see him as a pitiable figure, not a hateful one. I was never a huge fan—I liked the first three Ender books fine enough but never had the impulse to do more than that. The Worthing Saga is still worth reading. I was asked, once, why I worked "with" Card on the book Getting Lost and I can only say that I did no such thing. My essay was solicited by the folks at Smart Pop books, and then after the book was compiled, Card was brought in as a figurehead editor to write little introductions to each piece. In mine, he revealed that he once weighed over 300 pounds. Olivia, when she read the piece, thought that I had once weighed that much! Card never "betrayed" me with his opinions; I just suspect without evidence that he's a giant closet case who got stepped on by his church and is now as vicious as any true-believing convert. But there's no reason for me to declare that I am joining the boycott because I am already not going to see the movie.
What I'm interested in is how artists should engage political questions like this one. Artists tend to be aesthetic explorers—the same small sliver of the population that can consume extreme politics and aesthetics—so it feels right and proper to make an artistic argument against boycotts. There are great fascist artists, great Maoist artists, you name it. So it can be a challenge when a great artist faces public displeasure for political reasons. In this case, however, we're not talking about great art, so the worries about boycotting Ender's Game feel to me like something other than artistic consciousness, and more like business consciousness.