Many writers are hated. But few are hated as intensely and by as many different groups of people as I am. It feels self-indulgent, but I’ve decided that it would be worthwhile to create a typology of critics. And plus, if you’re not going to be self-indulgent once in a while, what’s the point of having your own Substack?
A single criticism from any one individual may not tell us much. But when a criticism recurs and is common among a certain political community, it says something about me, that community itself, or both. At the end of this article, I’ll put forward a unified theory of Hanania-hate. Yes, as you might predict, it involves me being unusually brilliant and courageous, but it’ll hopefully include some things you don’t yet know.
Left-wingers want to feel smarter than others and exclude them based on having the wrong ideas. Right-wingers are paranoid and conspiratorial. Thus, the left will say I have really evil values, and their criticisms are aimed at others on their side of the political spectrum who talk to or associate with me. The right will accuse me of lying, because they are always on the lookout for someone trying to trick them. My views on liberals reading and conservatives watching TV are shaped to some extent by how each side reacts to me, as only one of them appears able to understand my views.
Although the list could be much longer, when we discuss categories of haters, three in particular stand out in terms of the number and prominence of adherents to each school of Hanania criticism. I thought about including a fourth category of “pedo hunters,” or those particularly triggered by me not taking the Epstein files seriously and showing contempt for the idea that we would lock female teachers up for having sexual relationships with male students. But let’s set that aside, as it’s not as directly relevant to politics. Here we’re talking about a specific kind of moral panic, which I’ve already criticized elsewhere.
Culture of Life Types
The first category is the simplest and most straightforward to understand. I take extreme positions on abortion, surrogacy, and euthanasia. This is offensive to people who believe in what has been called the Culture of Life, whether rooted in Catholic theology, some other religious tradition, or common gut instincts. Sometimes, social conservatives will criticize utilitarian approaches to these topics, imagining Peter Singer types as their enemies. My views are partly rooted in utilitarianism, but also in an explicit rejection of the moral values of the Culture of Life framework. For example, some will talk about “human dignity” when opposing euthanasia, and I agree that this is an important consideration. But to them it means being forced to continue breathing no matter how low your quality of life sinks and how much of a burden you are on others. To me, dignity means being independent, healthy, able to make one’s own choices, and supporting one’s loved ones instead of being a drain on them. At a certain point, not killing yourself is simply indecent. For these reasons, I find opposition to euthanasia in particular deeply contemptible. I have more sympathy for pro-life ideology, yet it’s disturbing how much those who oppose abortion prioritize saving fetuses with severe handicaps over other children.
A lot of people agree with me on aborting fetuses with Down syndrome, and letting people end their own lives. But if these issues aren’t your main focus, and they aren’t for me, then it makes sense to keep one’s mouth shut about these positions. I can think of quite a few writers who make opposition to euthanasia a major priority, but few who are as committed to the pro-liberty position. I am willing to take the heat by saying what many people believe but will not articulate because there is little upside to doing so.
Culture of Life types are the easiest haters to understand. They believe in one set of values, I believe in another. As we’ll see, the two other kinds of haters dislike me for very specific reasons that are central to their own psyches and their views of my relationships with other people. A Christian conservative writer once DMed me and said that at first she hated me but then realized that I actually care about what’s true so now she feels differently. This is what honest disagreement looks like. This is not possible with the morons in the next category, or the shrieking authoritarians in the one after that.
Jilted Rightoids
In my first few years as a public figure, I was known largely as a harsh critic of wokeness. Over time, I would become disgusted with the right, and start to believe that they were wrong on immigration, and also that they had formed a community that was extremely lacking in epistemological standards and basic morality. The year 2021 was key here, as it was when the stolen election and anti-vaxx narratives started rising on the right, and I could see that I was one of the only people within the tent who was willing to tell the truth about what was happening. Actually, we can go one step further, as I was one of few people not so partisan-brained that I could understand that there was nothing to either narrative.
I was still known as a right-wing writer when the Huffington Post exposed my past racisms in summer 2023, and the article that was published actually recreated some of the goodwill that had been lost. Nonetheless, this did not change my perception of the problems with the right, which would get worse over the years.
Many of the “noticers” have not appreciated this noticing. Since, as I’ve documented, conservatives don’t read, they miss the longform articles explaining in painstaking detail what I’ve been thinking, and jump to the idea that I’m just saying the things I say to gain acceptance from the left. Here’s an exchange I had with Yarvin late last year:
The entire justification for the 2023 Huffington Post piece was that I was close to Republican politicians and Silicon Valley rightists. The exposé came out at the exact moment when, instead of hurting your prospects, being seen as based was increasingly an asset. The best path to profiting from all this would’ve been saying something like “that was bad, but it was a long time ago, leftists are scum for bringing this up, and I’m going to fight them because they’re the real racists and want to cancel people for saying the wrong thing” or something of that sort. Instead I told the truth, which was what I said was bad, leftists actually have a point about racism on the right, and that rightists were still flawed for denying elections, hating vaccines, and not engaging with any real sources of news.
I had a friend comment that turning against the tech right around 2023-2024 was basically the definition of selling an asset when the price is low. But I didn’t care! Everything within me rebels against smart people turning into Catturd, and there are few things more disgusting than watching intelligent individuals like JD Vance and Elon Musk shape their ideologies to fit the prejudices of the lowest kinds of slop merchants. It would be one thing to try to appeal to stupid people while keeping in mind that they’re stupid. But as Trivers taught, human psychology doesn’t work like that. There’s a saying that people become what they pretend to be. In politics, the equivalent idea is that you become who you pander to. Having contempt for low human capital is more than a matter of gaining the benefit of excluding less intelligent voices from the discourse. It is a kind of protection for the soul, preventing those who might in other circumstances know better from losing their dignity.
But it’s not simply that I’m a heretic of the Cult of Based. I strike at the very heart of rightoids’ self-conception. Vanguard conservatism in the last decade has been rooted in the idea that the right’s political views are the natural consequence of taking a series of “red pills.” This leads to clarity and the acceptance of supposed truths surrounding topics like race and sex differences, the overwhelming harms of mass migration and diversity, the negative role women have come to play in political life, the flaws of democracy, and the evils of egalitarianism. I come along and tell you that I know rightists’ arguments better than they do, I’ve made many of them myself, and, with a handful of exceptions, you’re much better off listening to the mainstream media than right-wing intellectuals and influencers on the issues they care about.
One of the themes I’ve often hit on is that, as much as the neoreactionary and nationalist types see themselves as anti-egalitarians, they are often critiquing the establishment from the left. When I or others point out that Steve Sailer’s opposition to high-skill immigration makes little sense given his stated values and priorities, he retorts that he is the only one who is primarily considering the well-being of citizens. See also my debates with Amy Wax on Indians in America. The arguments against high-skill immigration are really bad, but particularly so for those who take seriously the importance of IQ. If you think high intelligence has all kinds of positive externalities, then you must really hate having non-whites around to justify restricting skilled immigration, and since even self-styled thought criminals don’t like to admit that they’re that prejudiced, they selectively turn into socialist degrowthers when the topic comes up.
Amy is still a friend, and I’ve had pleasant interactions with Steve, despite his propensity to take shots in comments sections. But to be able to remain on civil terms with Trump supporters has been increasingly difficult, especially when they are hyper online types.
Last year, Deep Left wrote an article on Hanania Derangement Syndrome, which focuses on this group of haters. The top comment is from a rightoid proving my point.
I’m in awe of how people can think about a topic (me) this much while doing so little research to check their theories against the evidence. I do not “strike” this person as someone who learned something new about the world, even though I spend so much time writing about how I’ve changed my mind and the exact reasons why that I’ve decided I need to stop doing it and just refer people to older essays going forward. But this guy – and there are many more like him – probably has not read many essays and sees a handful of tweets now and then and so spins up a theory based on the most uncharitable interpretation possible.
Rightists are conspiratorial and intellectually lazy, so they naturally believe their opponents are lying about their views. From them, I often get replies like “You know X, but are choosing to lie about it.” Most of the time, neither of the other two camps of haters accuses me of dishonesty. In fact, the criticism goes in the other direction, with the tone of “and he’s not even trying to hide it!” Observing rightists interact with my work has been one reason why I’ve polarized so strongly against them. Leftists also have criticisms, but at least have the decency to kind of know what they’re talking about.
Once in a while, conservatives will make something close to the opposite argument, and gloat that the left will never accept me. Or perhaps the two views are reconcilable, and I am Machiavellian, but really bad at it. Few among this crowd consider a third possibility: that leftists who agree with me appreciate my work, and those who disagree don’t! Either way, the most prominent rightists today have brains that really are poorly equipped to understand that some people actually care about ideas. It’s not like I’m the only one they misunderstand. When it tries to explain the left, intellectual conservatism today emphasizes factors like status and power seeking. There’s a place for this kind of analysis, but when that’s all you talk about and it is your entire model for understanding politics, you are going to miss a lot.
Yglesias-Haters
The final category is the Yglesias-Hater. To them, I’m simply a pawn in a larger war over the future of the left. These are the people who just can’t believe that I am treated with respect by important and influential writers and institutions.
Taylor Lorenz isn’t completely wrong. Some on the left want to take their side in a more pro-market direction. I am pro-market. This correlates strongly with being skeptical of woke, so the alignment makes sense. Again, you have to credit the left for actually seeing what’s going on much more clearly than conspiracy-brained rightists.
Emil Kirkegaard has created a tool for investigating Substack networks based on shared subscribers. Here is mine.1
As expected, there’s overlap with Noah Smith, Nate Silver, and Yglesias. These are some of the main targets of people on the left who want their side to be purer in its hostility to corporations and unwillingness to question politically correct dogma.
Many leftists are obsessed with linking me to Yglesias in particular. From reading them, you would think that we go on vacations together and hold hands while taking long walks on the beach. Yet the extent of the relationship is basically Yglesias once in a while shares my essays and responds to my tweets. As a result, the Bluesky crowd will summon him at random times to answer for my sins.
It’s funny to note that years ago I was in a right-wing group chat that at one point was named “Matt Yglesias fan club,” because I spent so much time defending Yglesias from the charge that he was slimy and dishonest that it became a running joke. So while leftists hate him for responding to my articles, I’ve had similar conflict with rightists over standing up for Yglesias. Yes, it’s basically horseshoe theory again, in which tribal minds think alike, and are particularly triggered by those who approach issues in more nuanced and less partisan ways. It’s like fate wants to bring us together, but, alas, we are not actually friends.2
Derek Thompson’s appearance on my podcast to talk about Abundance has become a point of contention in the discourse surrounding the book. This one I feel bad about, as Derek is such a nice guy, describing himself as “pathologically agreeable” when I talked to him. Being hated by hordes of drooling morons is probably not as fun for him as it is for me.
Leftists have traditionally seen themselves as the arbiters of what ideas and people are acceptable. Circa 2015-2021, they were at the height of their power, and could in many cases essentially erase views they disliked from the internet. The decline of gatekeepers and an increasingly successful (and authoritarian) right made this impossible to maintain. So many of them retreated into more extreme bubbles. Unable to police society as a whole, they try to set the terms for what others on the left can say and who they can talk to. Figures like Yglesias, Klein, Thompson, and David Shor stand out as prominent intellectuals who they see as not practicing the same kind of politics of exclusion, willing to push back on sacred cows, and perhaps in their hearts harboring some cancellable views themselves.
I’m impressed by their dedication. They can’t let the smallest interaction with Yglesias go! We’re not talking about him ever agreeing with me that racism is good or something, it’s just normal nerd stuff. The instinct to set the bounds of acceptable discourse is a fundamental drive for many of these people, and it seems that deciding who matters is key to their sense of self-worth. I’ve previously written that the distinction between populism and elitism can be understood in terms of whether individuals seek status by trying to impress large numbers of people or a select group. The conservative influencer gets his status from the number of followers he has, while the left-wing journalist is attached to prestigious institutions, and may have little independent public profile at all. The latter is generally preferable, since elite institutions sometimes get things right, while appealing to a massive audience when talking about political issues is practically always a negative signal, since all but a tiny portion of the population is either dumb or intellectually lazy.
Yet while all elite institutions and epistemological communities gatekeep, sometimes gatekeeping is done by ideologues with awful political commitments. Yglesias has written about how he’s too big to be bullied, but attacking him sends a signal that there are a lot of people out there ready to make life difficult for anyone on the left who is less prominent and might be tempted to step out of line. I don’t know how much left-wing cancellers consciously think in such strategic terms, and how much they’re just emotionally lashing out and indirectly creating a chilling effect, but it’s probably a combination of both.
If Yglesias were on the right, he would not have nearly as many haters on his own side. Imagine a conservative who was willing to challenge some right-wing ideas, but did it mostly in long-form essays and always voted Republican in the end. Right-wingers wouldn’t read enough of his articles to get the nuance of his views, and in the end what they care about most is that individuals affirm tribal loyalty by voting the right way. Yglesias-hate is for people who read. Here, you are dealing with deranged ideologues rather than conspiracy theorists or low trust individuals who always think they need to be on guard so you don’t fool them.
The Common Theme
Setting aside the Culture of Life folks, I think that the two remaining types of haters share a fundamental critique. Both dislike the centrist establishment, and are upset that I have a certain level of acceptance within it. To the rightists, this says something about my character, since I apparently just figured out what buttons to push and was let into the club. I succeeded by pulling the wool over their eyes. The leftist haters are less interested in me as an individual and see me as a symbol with which to smear others within their coalition they want to keep in line, particularly Yglesias, who they imagine is my soulmate.
I think there’s a broader lesson here. My haters provide strong support for my view of politics. Right-left remains an important axis. But there is also a populist-antipopulist axis, and on this dimension few people unapologetically take the antipopulist side. The GMU economics department is a major exception, and it’s unsurprising that some of the closest Substacks in my network are Caplan, Hanson, and Decker. But Tyler and Bryan are too nice to be hated, and so all the rage people feel toward the substance of unapologetic antipopulism is directed at me (and sometimes Decker when he’s imagining himself fighting a civil war or getting cucked).
I found this exchange quite amusing.
One guy can’t believe that I succeeded while being too racist against black people, and the other responds with a complaint that I’m too harsh on white people. I’m pretty sure no one else can inspire such a conversation!
I see a symmetry on the ends of the political spectrum, where both sides have built images of themselves as defenders of oppressed minorities. For the left, it is various identity groups, but particularly American blacks. The right is now doing the same thing with working class whites. I wrote about JD Vance as the white Sharpton, pointing out the psychological and ideological similarities between these two approaches to politics. Those who are fans of Vance or BLM do not want to see themselves in the other side. But my fanbase is composed to a large extent of those who can look beyond the right-left divide and see similarities in the most prominent forms of American identitarianism.
I think the Bluesky message below gets at something important.
One of the questions for the future is whether politics will reorient in a way that will make my politics more legible to a larger number of people. As Sam Kriss wrote last year:
Maybe the greatest ideological entrepreneur of our era is Richard Hanania. Far more than any of his competitors—Curtis Yarvin, Bronze Age Pervert, me—he seems to prefigure the politics of the future…
In the last few years, Hanania has made a kind of aretaic turn. Instead of the white race, he now believes in a universal herrenvolk stratum of ‘elite human capital.’ He now supports gay marriage and trans rights, because gay and trans people tend to be wealthier, more liberal, and higher IQ, and because openness to sexual minorities seems to be a trait of elite human capital. He supports abortion, and quotes Jessica Valenti while doing so. He opposes Trump and the MAGA movement, because they’re all plainly morons. He no longer opposes mass immigration, because it provides a wider talent pool from which elite human capital might be drawn, even if it’s statistically likelier to come from some groups than others. He likes Jews. He has rearranged his Hitler particles into an almost perfect facsimile of liberalism, with just one piece missing, which is the assumption of a universal human dignity. Perhaps relatedly, he also believes that he, as an instance of elite human capital, could easily write a Jacobean tragedy as good as any of Shakespeare’s, if he had a few days to learn all the old-timey words.
I hate to say it, but I think this thing might have legs. The centre-left is hollowed out, it’s empty, its current best idea for 2028 is just running Kamala Harris again in the hope that things go differently. That space is there to be filled, and what makes elite human capitalism potent is that it doesn’t just flatter the position of the ruling classes—they have plenty of options on that front—but also provides the materials for an entirely new round of shrieking moral priggishness.
Basically, I believe in the need for a ruling class. From the perspective of the broad scope of human history, American elites in the post-World War II era have been close to the best anyone can hope for. This is true even if they say some not very nice things about me. Yes, they kind of went crazy in the 2010s, but the answer was to try to reform the institutions they had built, not tear them down with no hope of alternatives through the efforts of a coalition of social media grifters, theocratic freaks, internet misanthropes, hateful racists, borderline schizophrenic podcast hosts, conspiracy theorists, and brain rotted tech bros. Something like the Elite Human Capital framework can potentially provide the moral courage and intellectual scaffolding to fight the two-front war against barbarians from outside Western institutions and those who would subvert them from within.
I think those who like my work understand this, which is why they think it is sometimes worthwhile to take the heat that comes from engaging with me. I may be the tip of the spear of a new political realignment. Or I may continue as an interesting intellectual sideshow in a politics that continues to be defined by two sides that have embraced forms of identitarianism that are largely mirror images of one another.
As you can probably tell, I’m more emotionally disgusted with the right-wing haters. If the left ever seizes total power and wants to imprison me, their indictment will actually have accurate citations. Rightists will spin up paranoid fantasies and charge me with being a gay Jewish pedophile and credit Nick Shirley’s stellar reporting for breaking the story. To not be understood is much worse than being hated, and rightists just have a less accurate model of reality almost across the board.
All of this is a bit self-aggrandizing. So let me close by talking about my flaws. Mainly, I can be kind of a prick. It’s getting better over time, but there are moments when I’ve been mean-spirited, rude, and sadistic. Yes, yes, my work as a whole is in the service of truth, but sometimes I want to make people who deserve it feel bad. This may not be the healthiest instinct, but it is one of the secrets to my productivity, and I think the same is true for a lot of people involved in political or intellectual life. One thing I’ve lost the right to do as a result is complain too much when people hate me. All I ask is that they at least do the reading.
Thanks for reading. One thing I’ve learned is that when you have a book coming out, you can never assume that even regular readers are aware of it.
For that reason, over the next few months I’m not going to miss any opportunity to inform my audience that I have a new book called Kakistocracy: Why Populism Ends in Disaster coming out in July – details here. If you enjoy articles like this, appreciate me as a truly independent writer, and would like to support my work, the best way to do so is to preorder the book, which you can do at the links here to Amazon or Barnes & Noble. All preorders count toward opening day sales, and will help determine how much attention it receives.
I will be reading the audiobook, in case that makes it more appealing.
On a different note, if a little box appears below, it means that you are not yet a free or paid subscriber. Sign up to get more articles and updates in the future.
I also share subscribers with Michael Tracey, probably because we do a lot of streams together. But he’s so far away in the network map that to show Tracey would require one to zoom out and be less able to see what is going on. What this means is that, although Michael and I share some subscribers, it’s an idiosyncratic relationship in terms of the overall Substack network and we cluster in completely different places.
For fun, here’s what Michael’s network looks like, which is truly all over the map.
I checked, and this is the first time I’ve used “alas” on this Substack when it’s not a quote from someone else. I don’t know what drove me to check this, or why I decided it was worth a footnote.
I'm not sure what it says about me, a Democrat, that I actually enjoy your insightful but cruel commentaries, but keep it up. My main criticism would be that your writing is a little too in-crowd for my taste... kind of a substack version of inside the beltway.
I'm a leftist (a communist, even), but I like your matter-of-fact style. I enjoy disagreeing with you most of the time about many things (but not all). I don't hate you, because I think hate is bad both from a purely moral (thus relatively uninteresting) standpoint, but also hate is completely inefficient. If we can agree to build something together, we don't need to agree on anything but what's needed to actually complete the project. THAT'S democracy : we discuss about what we need or want to achieve, find a form on consensus, discuss on how to achieve it, then work at it. We don't need to agree on anything else to reach success.
I can play music with right-wingers. I can develop software with libertarians. We certainly don't need to agree on trans rights to fight efficiently climate change, and the reverse is true, too. It's actually pretty surprising how many people believe that you must agree on a whole bunch of unrelated things to simply work on THAT ONE thing, and that hinders almost every collective endeavour.