Yesterday, at Vancouver Websummit — a tech conference here in British Columbia featuring a surprisingly large roster of political commentators — I saw Curtis Yarvin speak. Yarvin is this far-right character who has become a bit of a media darling lately, repeatedly profiled in the prestige press and subject to much of the same dark titillation that characterizes how the liberal intelligentsia so often thinks about right-wing celebrities these days. His big, naughty idea is that dictatorship is preferable to democracy, and this apparently has some currency with both tech CEOs and the Vance-ite wing of MAGA.
At Websummit, Yarvin’s talk was structured as a debate between himself and Ramesh Srinivasan, moderated by Cenk Uygur. Srinivasan was not a particularly good advocate for democracy; he seems like a nice guy but was way too deep in a certain pit of lefty malaise to spring to the defense of American institutions. It’s hard to defend democracy when you don’t believe America even is one, as he at one point claimed. Whatever points he tried to make were mushy and unfocused.
You’d think this would give Yarvin, who has such a reputation for being this ferocious character, a clear advantage, but it didn’t. I imagine most of the audience filling the main auditorium of the convention center left thinking they had wasted time on one of the conference’s more mediocre events.
I was taken aback by how dull and uncharismatic Yarvin is, and how shallow and undeveloped his arguments are. Despite his reputation as the “bad boy philosopher,” I found he comes off as neither.
He is a flat speaker with little stage presence. He’s not animated or funny or charming or sassy or wild. He has a slumped posture and very dark eyes that peer from beneath downward-pointing black eyebrows, giving him a fixed expression that’s less menacing than gloomy. Coupled with his curtains of parted dark hair, he has an uncanny resemblance to Snape from the Harry Potter films. He came out wearing a Che Guevara t-shirt for reasons I’m sure he was eager to explain, but never did.
I didn’t think Yarvin’s talents as a speaker or thinker came anywhere close to meeting his obvious desire to be a serious provocateur. His most interesting defense of dictatorship was an observation that there are many well-functioning institutions in American life that are run as dictatorships, even hereditary monarchies — mainly corporations — and no one seems to find fault with those. It was unclear how seriously he believed this, however, for he’d also often cite, in a more sneering way, examples of liberals governing as dictators, including Dr. Fauci and LBJ, who he clearly thought made America worse by virtue of their authoritarian style. When Cenk asked him about checks and balances, he similarly seemed fine with conceding that effective dictators require a cabinet with impeachment power and so forth, which, as my friend SoyPill noted in a video takedown of Yarvin, quickly just winds up reinventing liberal democracy. Overall, he spoke more like a college student making a half-assed defense of a challenging position in debate club than someone who’d thought particularly deeply about his supposed signature issue.
I think people can have bad politics and still be engaging. I wrote a while ago about Slavoj Zizek, whose politics I think are comparably shallow and vague but is undeniably a funny and compelling performer. Many people on the far right, from Ann Coulter to Alex Jones, have a flamboyant stage presence that makes them hard to turn away from. The degree that political commentary has become entertainment is not an uncomplicated good, but charisma is part of the art of effective communication, and can be used to compensate for a lack of weak ideas. Yarvin strikes me as the worst of both worlds; a guy with little to say who doesn’t seem to be having fun saying it.









