Letter to Hans Theys from Vincent Van Meenen

Doctoral researcher Vincent Van Meenen writes a monthly letter to art historian and curator Hans Theys, responding both to Theys's work and to what he himself has seen that month. This month: Houellebecq and KIRAC.

Recently, you told me that, in your view, Houellebecq's Submission was about the cowardice of intellectuals as well as the sexuality of the lonely man: “When political power changes hands, they are the first to switch sides, like opportunistic weathercocks.” Now, quite apart from the public controversy his novels cause and the particular theme he chooses each time, Michel Houellebecq works to a fixed pattern, a recipe. He is in command of his language, constructs a fine arc and knows how to make subtle stylistic jokes. In short, he is a craftsman, a writer practising a craft.

In terms of content, he often uses rhetorical tricks. In the book, the moderate Muslim party wins the French elections in 2022, defeating the far right and thus winning over the social democrats. Its main priority is education. The Sorbonne in Paris is taken over by Saudi Arabia; all women are dismissed; public education for everyone disappears, with women allowed to progress only in exceptional cases; and Islamic schools replace Catholic ones. The intellectuals displayed in this book capitulate one by one. One for polygamy, another for money, another because the other academics have bullied him for years and he can now take revenge. The main character himself hesitates for at least eighty pages, but ultimately cannot resist the intellectual prestige offered to him. The novel ends on that cynical note.

What Houellebecq has essentially done is this: he proposes a thesis — your quotation — then invents examples that fit it, the intellectuals, and 250 pages later sees not only that thesis but his entire worldview vindicated. That is narrow, one-sided and unambiguous. For every intellectual who capitulates, one could imagine another who refuses to submit, who will not tolerate women being excluded, who takes to the barricades, and so on. They do not appear in this book. The author is master of his own universe and writes what he wants. The reader is responsible for their own reading and for the place they give it. I want to live within a worldview in which at least some of those intellectuals are not cowards, and I suspect you do too.

We find a similar principle — thesis + one-sided examples = worldview proved — in the hugely popular YouTube videos of KIRAC, Keeping It Real Art Critics. First and foremost, I admire the craftsmanship of Stefan Ruitenbeek and Kate Sinha. Editing, structure, camera position, narrative arc, catharsis, sound: they make clear choices and execute them very well, and they keep getting better. In some films they practise art criticism; in others they seem instead to make portraits of situations, people or institutions.

When they practise art criticism, as in the films about Jon Rafman, documenta Athens or De Appel, they follow the Houellebecq principle: they take an artwork, stick an intellectualist, often Nietzsche-inspired interpretation onto it, then demolish that interpretation. This makes it seem as though the video leaves nothing of the work intact, when in fact they have demolished no more than their own overlay. We agree about that. A work is, of course, much more than Ruitenbeek and Sinha's interpretation. Ruitenbeek and Sinha know that too.

But when they make portraits, as in the films about Simchowitz, the migration crisis, the Gerrit Rietveld Academie or Maarten, something changes. They do something I cannot put my finger on. As you know, I consider that a quality. What I do see is that in those films neither viewer nor subject knows where they stand. This makes the people they show vulnerable in a beautiful way. Like Houellebecq, they put themselves on stage as fluid characters. They introduce nuance, are harsh and merciless towards roles and titles, but do their best to spare people. They are simply well-made films. If someone identifies with their role and is consequently hurt by what KIRAC does, that is not KIRAC's responsibility. That obviously lies with the people themselves. An artwork is not an image or its interpretation, and a person is not their profession. All in all, KIRAC's films seem to be an argument for responsibility, although I find that a difficult word.

Half a million views in four years. Can we pause for a moment to consider how astronomically high that figure is? I suspect many of those views come from art students who feel addressed because they recognise the institutions being portrayed and their intellectualist spokespeople. Some of them will be cowardly; others, hopefully, will not.

Best wishes,

Vincent