The Concept of the Impolitical

Paul Weber, 1951, “Rückgrat raus!” (Get the Spine Removed!) lithograph

When the political process degenerates into empty palaver—as is the case in the Liberal System—one might rightly call this process “impolitics.” There is no exact English equivalent for the French word “inpolitique,” a term coined by the political sociologist Julien Freund (1921–1993), a close associate of the German legal scholar Carl Schmitt. Widely used in French political theory, the term first appeared in Freund’s remarkable book Politique et impolitique ( 1987) (unfortunately never translated into English). Freund describes it thus: “the apolitical person is external to politics or takes no interest in it, whereas the impolitical person actively participates in political life but lacks judgment or skill in the exercise of his function, because he does not possess the sense of discernment.” One might simply say that impolitical decision-making is wishful thinking resulting in unintended, often catastrophic political results.

Impolitics is just one segment within a broader spectrum of counter-political concepts, including “antipolitics,” “transpolitics,” “infrapolitics,” and “patapolitics”—concepts widely used in French political theory. Beneath the mask of political processes, impoliticians hollow out authentic power politics, replacing them with hired experts preaching unintelligible administrative rules, using doublespeak, and delivering moralizing lectures. Impolitical decision-making among liberal politicians often uses as a cover the euphemism ‘governance.’

Politics implies the strict distinction between friend and foe, while impolitics represents a denial of any enmity. It thrives on grandstanding slogans rather than on a perception of objective political reality. Transpolitics goes hand in hand with impolitics—a term used by the late Jean Baudrillard to signal the end of politics altogether and its relegation to fictitious political scenarios. In books like Fatal Strategies, Baudrillard defines transpolitics through a simple paradox: “Everything is political; therefore, nothing is political anymore.” To this, in our modern digital era, we must add the pathology of ‘patapolitics’—a politician’s obsessive pursuit of imaginary solutions to crises, substituting political reality with algorithms and holograms. Hence the modern surge of self-proclaimed “experts” on social media and podcasts, including countless anonymous semiliterate individuals claiming to have unlocked the doors to the human predicament.

Patapolitics, as a segment of impolitics, captures absurd, imaginary scenarios in which algorithms and video games replace the politician’s search for answers on his cell phone. To cap it all off, impolitics often morphs into antipolitics, which signifies a rejection of the concept of the enemy and rests on the illusion that peace can be enforced by preaching good sermons—a common trait among US/EU leftists and DEI affirmative-action theorists. As Julien Freund points out, the key aspect of impolitics rests on the dangerous illusion that one can escape conflict by shrugging off the concept of the enemy. This is a deadly mistake. I do not need to choose my enemy; he will designate me as his enemy whether I like it or not. To put it more directly and closer to home: I may insist that I am not the enemy of Jews, yet it won’t help me if several Jewish agencies have already labeled me an antisemite. I may walk on all fours or bend over backwards with disclaimers that I am not a racist; it will still do me no good if hostile outgroups or individuals have already labeled me as a racist.

How do our modern politicians fit into the category of impolitics? One might suspect that President Donald Trump embodies to some extent an impolitical phenomenon. Despite the fact that he has strong intentions and undeniably some positive political instincts—such as his pardon of January 6 activists and closing down the border—in foreign affairs he appears trapped in a world crafted by his heroic delusions and/or dishonest advisers. Moreover, his political decisions are driven more by his business mindset than by some knowledge of the classics, ultimately stripping him of any grasp of the historical or political context. Instead, his transactional approach in foreign affairs frequently results in sudden reversals of his initial decisions—leaving both his supporters and his foes stunned, speechless, and searching for meaning.

When impolitics mixes with modern “videopolitics,” fake news floods everywhere—from daily news headlines to history books, especially when loaded with ideological narratives and surreal victimhoods. Add round-the-clock mediatization across a multitude of social platforms, and politics loses its meaning entirely. Politics becomes a farce: a grand spectacle in which mutual trust collapses and careerists and yes-men occupy the halls of power. Unlike sober-faced tragic figures such as Washington, Jefferson, or Bismarck, today’s leaders are perforce nothing more than clowns. On television and social media, they seem more focused on their dental implants than on the promotion of the common good. When one observes the body language of EU commissioners and their counterparts on both the left and the right in local parliaments, the conclusion writes itself: the West is finished—and this also marks the final death knell for the Liberal Order.

One can surely learn more about the danger of liberal impolitics by reading the classics than by studying all the political science treatises. The script of impolitics and patapolitics comes alive in Alice’s journey through Wonderland. Alice’s patapolitical wonderland features absurd rules where official power runs entirely on nonsensical syllogisms. Alice finds herself in a chaotic courtroom where the Knave of Hearts is on trial for stealing tarts. As the King attempts to run the proceedings, the Queen of Hearts completely skips due process and shouts, “Sentence first—verdict afterwards!” This was the author’s unintended blueprint for studying the later Soviet judiciary—and today’s liberal lawfare and its court proceedings against dissidents. This graphic gap between political reality and delusion is best illustrated in the work of German artist Paul Weber. His lithographs mercilessly satirize turncoats, spineless zealots, and citizens falling prey to grandstanding ideas or embracing new dogmas the moment the historical moment becomes ripe. Yet Weber had a hard time: disliked by National Socialist Germany, he was subsequently sidelined and distrusted by post-WWII Anglo-American world-improvers in occupied Germany..

Off, from, and for politics…

This brings up a classic dilemma: Should one trust politicians who live off politics, or those who live for politics? Trump is an idealist of sorts; to his credit, he did not need foreign money to launch his first campaign—unlike countless politicians whose entry into Congress or the EU establishment relies on the financial backing of powerful pressure groups. And in his second term he has transformed into the grifter-in-chief. Without rehashing Max Weber’s century-old theories, the tension between living off or for politics remains as vivid as ever. Many White nationalists and right-wingers—justifiably disillusioned with mainstream political lies—act as idealists fighting for a good cause, though their leaders, once in office, may turn out to be the exact opposite of what they expected. On the other hand, the majority of politicians in the EU and US political arena live off politics. They are opportunists who change their tune the moment a new political-cultural fashion arrives. Yet that very opportunism may offer a strange silver lining: they are less likely to start mass purges when a new order sets in, preferring to rebrand themselves as pragmatic realists.

Sometimes it is good to have a debauched and super-wealthy ruler presiding, because some of his wealth and lax mores may beneficially spill over to the poor. An ultra-modest politician can be lethal. The proto-communist revolutionary and lawyer Maximilien Robespierre lived a frugal, Spartan life, which did not prevent him from launching a widespread and lethal Reign of Terror in France. The nationalist Adolf Hitler was a modest man from a modest Austrian family, a strict vegetarian and early riser, yet his career ended in European chaos. The Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius, a famous Stoic celebrated by modern scholars as the very incarnation of the philosopher-king was known for his honesty and virtue; yet it is likely that Marcus Aurelius carried some recessive criminal genes, which he passed on to his son Commodus, one of Rome’s cruelest and most perverted tyrants. Seneca is still widely praised for his profound Stoic wisdom on moderation, yet his lofty philosophy of Stoicism did not prevent him from becoming the richest man in the Roman Empire.

This glaring contradiction exposes the ultimate all-too-human gap between preaching a multicultural society from an ivory tower and actually living it in real life. The communist Che Guevara lived simply and frugally, refusing personal glory in early revolutionary Cuba, yet his legacy keeps sparking daily Antifa thuggery across Europe and the USA. The list goes on.

When discussing impolitics, one inevitably comes upon great authors such as François de La Rochefoucauld, who observed that “what men call friendship is only a social traffic, a mutual exchange of interests, and a trade in which self-love always expects to gain something.” Much later in America a sharp observer, Ambrose Bierce went even further in denouncing the devilish nature of democracy, defining an elector as “one who enjoys the sacred privilege of voting for the man of another man’s choice.” Following the exhaustion of post-communist transitions in Eastern Europe, the populace is now growing sick of the liberal capitalist experiment and their corrupted elites. A deep current of nostalgia for order and a strong hand persists all over Europe and the US, making it only a matter of time before a breaking point hits us all. But what comes next? Ultimately, what difference does it make when one set of thieves loses their seats if the halls of power are simply refilled with more of the same? Plus ça change…