The Puppet and the Dwarf: The Perverse Core of Christianity - Slavoj Zizek
Published in 2003, MIT Press, Cambridge, MA. 188 pages
Over the past century, Christian theologians have been forced to contend with Marxist critiques of religion. Traditionally, this critique often challenged the ways in which religion has been utilized as a way to cover over and mask material inequality and class antagonism. As a result, theologians often took one of two routes: they either rejected these Marxist “opium of the people” critiques as dangerous secular attacks by the “Godless communists”, or incorporated them into their theological framework, resulting in movements such as liberation theology in the 1960s. In recent decades, however, there has been a marked “theological turn” within contemporary Marxist theory, inspired by theorists such as Walter Benjamin, Theodor Adorno, and Louis Althusser and taken up by contemporary writers such as Georgio Agamben, Alain Badiou, and Terry Eagleton. Many of these thinkers, following the critiques made by Marx and Engles, work to illuminate the politically emancipatory potential of religion against the forces of market capitalism.
Following this theological turn, Slovenian philosopher and cultural theorist Slavoj Zizek also incorporates religion into many of his works (even if often tangentially). Following up on his work, The Fragile Absolute: Or, Why Is the Chrisitan Legacy Worth Fighting For? (2000), Zizek dives further into his unique perspective of Christianity in his 2003 book, The Puppet and the Dwarf: The Perverse Core of Christianity. Zizek, in this work, utilizes the work of Freud, Lacan, and Hegel in order to bid the reader to consider the radical nature of Christ’s sacrifice and contemplate its political consequences.
Overview:
With psychoanalysis and Hegelian dialectics in hand, Zizek seeks to uncover what he sees as the true kernel of Christianity. Zizek starts his analysis by examining religion in general, taking note of the paradox of love, the fidelity of Judas’ betrayal (which Peter Rollins would later take up in his 2008 book The Fidelity of Betrayal: Towards a Church Beyond Belief), and the disavowed violence of Zen Buddhism. Zizek then analyzes the relationship between Christianity, paganism, and prohibition via G.K.Chesterton’s “thrilling romance of orthodoxy.”
In the third chapter, Zizek then examines the tension between the Particular and the Universal in politics as he attempts to give an account for Lacan’s category of the Real, arguing that it is “simultaneously the Thing to which direct access is not possible and the obstacle that prevents this direct access” (77). It is here that Zizek begins to delve into the meat of his central argument, as he utilizes these Hegelian categories of negation, subtraction, and the Void of the Real in order to argue that God Himself experiences this separation from Himself as a subject, which leads Zizek to state that “our radical experience of separation from God is the very feature which unites us with Him...only when I experience the infinite pain of separation from God, do I share an experience with God Himself (Christ on the Cross)” (91).
In the fourth chapter, Zizek finally hits us with his main thesis: Christ, as the mediator between us and the divine, acts as a Lacanian “subject supposed to know,” who we project our desires and beliefs onto. Yet, on the Cross, when Jesus cries out “Eloi Eloi, lema sabachthani” (“My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” [Mark 15:34]), Christ suspends his belief momentarily, revealing the fractured nature of the Godhead (God is separated from Himself). Thus, Zizek can make the radical claim that the only way to be a Christian is to, like Christ, become an atheist (and vice-versa), as he writes, “The true communion with Christ, the true imitatio Christi, is to participate in Christ’s doubt and disbelief” (102).
In his final chapter, Zizek then goes onto examine the core difference between Judaism and Christianity. He asserts that Christianity essentially exposes the secret that Judaism has tried to keep hidden: that God Himself is impotent. To make this argument, Zizek contrasts the story of Job with the Crucifixion of Christ. In the story of Job, Zizek asserts, God essentially doubles down on his own omnipotence and power in a braggadocious monologue. He doesn’t reveal why he agreed to let Job be tortured, and sides with Job in his insistence that his suffering was indeed meaningless (against the interpretation of Job’s three friends). In Christ, Zizek argues, this secret (that there is nothing behind the veil and God is impotent) is revealed on the Cross. Christ died to show us that the Big Other, the guarantee of meaning, does not exist and that it is up to the community of believers (which Zizek identifies as the Holy Spirit) to carry out the radical vision of Christ on earth. Zizek, in this analysis, believes that he is following in the footsteps of Pauline theology, as he writes, “What matters to him [Paul] is not Jesus as a historical figure, only the fact that he died on the Cross and rose from the dead -- after confirming Jesus’ death and resurrection, Paul goes on to his true Leninist business, that of organizing the new party called the Christian community” (9). The true kernel of Christianity, Zizek argues, is that Christ reveals the gap within God himself as He identified Himself with humanity, thus allowing us to experience the divine within our own shared sense of lack.
Commendations:
First of all, Zizek challenges us to reexamine our preconceived notions of Christianity and theology. Throughout his work, Zizek utilizes Hegelian dialectics to give a materialist reading of the Christian Gospel. This affords us a unique perspective into the radical potential of Christianity from an “outsider” perspective. In his examination, Zizek raises many interesting arguments and perspectives on the nature of the Crucifixion and its potential application towards building a community unified in a shared lack (via the Holy Spirit).
Zizek’s work is immensely important in drawing back towards a materialist understanding of the Christian narrative, correcting many of the ways in which modern Christianity is deeply Gnostic. For Zizek, the Christian God is the one who risks it all, even himself, to the point of madness and dereliction on the Cross. Against a Hellenistic (Greek) philosophy that tends to elevate the realm of perfect ideas over the imperfect material world, Zizek’s analysis of Christianity elevates the role of imperfection, arguing that imperfection is the very site from which love can thence spring forward.
In typical fashion, Zizek utilizes a wide range of philosophy, scientific theories, and cultural artifacts such as film and television to illustrate his points. While Christianity is the main subject of this book, Zizek also uses this work to tackle a wide range of cultural, social, and religious issues, from the failure of liberal politics in recent decades to the Western appropriation of Buddhist teachings and principles. He seamlessly weaves together movie references, crass jokes, and existential philosophy often on the same page. This leads to a dynamic and relevant read, as Zizek deftly navigates from Biblical literature and critical theory to political crises in an increasingly globalized, capitalist society. While he does tend to pull all of these strings together to make a larger point more in this work than some of his other books, this tangential component also leads us to a central critique.
Critique:
As with many of Zizek’s works, the central argument is a bit difficult to follow, and occasionally gets lost in the midst of all the disparate connections he makes. Zizek, as usual, tends to divert into multiple tangents and rabbit trails that are often dense and full of insight but stray from the central argument he’s trying to make. To be fair, this book is much more focused than some of his other books, but it still remains a criticism (and one that he is acutely aware of).
Furthermore, for the more casual reader, this book will be largely impenetrable. To follow along, one must have a basic understanding of Lacan, and at least a passing comprehension of Hegel and Kant. Even for me, who does have background knowledge of these thinkers, Zizek’s chapters ebb and flow without any real building conclusion. There are many hidden gems of wisdom and insight to be found in these chapters, to be sure, but it often takes a significant amount of digging to find and excavate them. As always with Zizek, the more you read him, the easier it becomes to understand his particular nuances and ways of framing arguments. While this book might be great for those who have already read a book or two from Zizek, however, it certainly is not the best introduction to his work. Relatedly, as a brief side note, Zizek also casually utilizes the “N-word” in recounting the name of a French candy, and while not malicious in intent by any means, it will probably cause most American audiences to cringe or turn away from his work, which truly is a shame since I think his voice is important in our contemporary cultural/political atmosphere.
Furthermore, in terms of his argument, I do have one major critique, namely: How does the Resurrection of Christ factor into Zizek’s analysis? much emphasis is placed on the “che voix?” cry of dereliction on the Cross (Eloi Eloi…), and I understand Zizek’s interpretation of the material emergence of the Spirit as the community of believers; yet, in order for Zizek’s argument of Divine impotence via Job to hold any water, the material nature of the Resurrection must be addressed. Zizek takes Christ’s cry of dereliction on the Cross as the final word on divine abandonment (also misquoting the cry by writing “Father, Father,” instead of “My God, my God…”). This cry is central to Zizek’s critique, without considering Christ’s other words on the Cross that are addressed to the Divine Father in Luke’s Gospel account (“Father, into your hands I commit my Spirit” Luke 23:46).
Just as the Song of Songs cannot be viewed as only a metaphor between the Jewish people and Hashem, this return to the Father and the eventual physical Resurrection must also be contended within a materialist manner. To be clear, Zizek has no intention of creating a systematic theology, reconciling every bit of the Christian Scriptures. Rather, he finds the kernel of Christianity within the death of Christ and the emergence of the Holy Spirit and thus takes what is useful towards building an emancipatory community of radical love.
Yet, Zizek seems to be caught in a sort of dilemma here. While he argues, along with Girard, that the Crucifixion was the fracturing Event that revealed the impotence of sacrifice towards an ultimate guarantor of meaning (aka. God), Zizek relies on this very framework of divine abandonment and violent sacrifice to serve as the ahistorical kernel that serves as the horizon for building a political movement. The question we have to ask is this: in thinking in terms of dispossession, do we accept a theology of total loss and abandonment, thus rendering us perpetual victims, or can dispossession also include the recovery of the Absolute?
In other words, while Zizek’s vision to unite us in a universal lack (a feeling of abandonment by God) which allows us to show solidarity with the Other in their shared lack, how can we thus move forward in a politically emancipatory manner while resisting the impulse to relegate ourselves to perpetual victimhood? This is where a theology of Resurrection is helpful, even necessary, to be truly progressive and emancipatory in our politics. In this way, we can relate to the other not only in our radical lack, but also in a radically new way via resurrection and new life, where we become brothers, sisters, and comrades, accountable to one another in a shared, positive theo-political movement.
Conclusion:
In short, Zizek uses this work to challenge our common assumptions regarding the nature of Christ’s death on the Cross, and what implications it might have for building a community of radical solidarity and love. While I do believe that Resurrection is critical for such a project, Zizek’s work is still incredibly useful, providing us a refreshing critical lens through which to view the Christian narrative. To be sure, some of Zizek’s language can be over the top and intentionally controversial, as he likes to flip conventional wisdom on its head. Yet, Zizek’s unorthodox methods also continue to surprise us, as he employs the help of some unlikely friends, such as Chesterton, to critique much of spirituality in the West today, such as New Age spiritualism, Western appropriations of Eastern religions, and post-secular appropriations of Judaism. Zizek’s work is immensely important, as he makes us consider the roles of desire, lack, violence, and language in the constitution of our religious and political beliefs.
As such, Zizek’s work is important to consider, especially in our contemporary theological spaces. He reminds us that a faith that guarantees wholeness and peace without delving into the brokenness and messiness of our cultural, social, and political realities ultimately serves to maintain the status quo of global capital. He reminds us that the categories of the sacred and the secular are not so distant after all, as the Incarnation occupies a liminal space on the Möbius strip. While not for the philosophically faint-hearted, echoing the sentiments of one of my favorite poets Richard Wilber, Zizek’s materialist Christianity reminds us that despite all of our philosophizing, “love calls us to the things of this world.”