“Foucault offers interesting ways to look at power.”
“Yeah, alright, I suppose the Foucault makes sense. Hisobsessionwith power.”
Aleksandr smirks. “I thought you’d appreciate his goal of a Marxist anarchist utopia.”
“Will you stop?” she grumbles.
His hand squeezes her thigh, under his shirt she’s wearing. Lili’s stomach swoops. “I appreciate how he thinks about dominant ideas and institutions,” he says. “The way he questions norms and narratives. He gave us a new way to interact with history, to understand who we might be and why.”
“I mean, he did borrow a lot from Nietzsche.”
“Do you intentionally try to avoid agreeing with me, or are you naturally a brat?”
Her mouth falls open, caught between shock and outrage. Aleksandr grins. “As I was saying,” he continues, “Foucault had a refreshing view on power. He didn’t deride it for existing. He looked at it neutrally, with nuance, beyond reductive ideas of only explicit force, or capital—rather in terms of visibility, perpetuation, reinforcement in dominant cultural narratives.”
“Like Gramsci,” she interjects.
“Yes, Lili,” he says, smiling. “Like Gramsci.”
She will not examine the little thrill that runs through her with his approval. “Well, if you see all of that,” she says, grasping for the comfort of contention again, “doesn’t it feel dishonest? To see all of it—the superstructure, cultural hegemony at work, discipline shaping citizens for capitalism—and just let it be? Sit back and benefit while others are ground down under it? Especially here, in this country.”
“Can you name any other country with this level of innovation, or possibility? I see the downsides, I do, but life is a balance. Choose the weight you want to bear in return for the profit you’re seeking.”
“You’re not bearing that weight, though! That whole approach negates the massive externalities inherent in capitalism.”
“I want the freedom to reap rewards equal to my effort. Nowhere is that as available as here. This country is a gift.”
“Only for some people,” she retorts. “Not everyone begins from the same starting line.”
“Tell me, then. What do you envision, in this ideal society you have in mind?”
“To start, free education. Universal childcare, healthcare. Serious climate action, full student loan forgiveness.”
“And how will you navigate the inevitable riots when taxes rise above fifty percent?”
“Tax the rich,” she snaps.
“Guillotines are also effective, I’ve heard.”
“You read my mind.”
He smiles, a condescending look. “Revolution is both exhausting and a disappointment. Change and chaos crush people more violently than capitalism ever will.”
“That’s such a cynical attitude! You have to fight for what you believe, make the world a better place.”
He looks at her, cocking his head. “Why do you think it’s your responsibility to change the world?”
She gapes at him. “What alternative is there? Are you just content to live in the world as it is?”
“I have seen the world change, Lili. Many times over, and more significantly and drastically than you hopefully will ever have to experience. It’s agony, seeing your country fall apart, and watching the world cheer.”
Lili falls silent, unsettled. Looking away, she glances across the room at the turned-away canvases leaning against the wall. They remind her of the immense painting in his living room.
“Tell me that’s not a Twombly in your living room,” she says, changing the topic.
“Do you want me to lie to you?”
She groans. “Art like that should be in museums, open to the public, appreciated by all.”
