Byung-Chul Han, in his book The Burnout Society, argues that the beginning of the XXI century is characterized by an increase in neuronal illnesses (for example, depression), caused by an excess of positivity. As a result, the dialectic of negativity, which is fundamental to immunity, begins to be forgotten: the immunological other is the negative element that penetrates what is one’s own and attempts to negate it. In this way, the immunological self-affirmation of what is one’s own occurs only as the negation of the negation.

In reality, violence does not arise only from negativity but also from positivity, not only from what is strange but also from what is identical. This violence of positivity, which results from overproduction, overachievement, or overcommunication, generates exhaustion, fatigue, and suffocation in the face of overabundance, and unfolds in a permissive and peaceful society. Therefore, it is not privative violence but saturating violence, it is not exclusive but exhaustive. Thus, this violence does not arise from a negativity external to the system but is systemic.

The society of the XXI century is no longer disciplinary, described by Michel Foucault as a society of negativity defined by prohibition, but rather a society of performance characterized by limitless “can-do”. However, the power to act does not eliminate obligation, and the performance subject remains disciplined.

„Prohibitions, commandments, and the law are replaced by projects, initiatives, and motivation. Disciplinary society is still governed by no. Its negativity produces madmen and criminals. In contrast, achievement society creates depressives and losers.“

Furthermore, Han refers to Alain Ehrenberg, who argues that neuronal illnesses arise where command and prohibition give way to individual responsibility and personal initiative. Thus, the depressed person is the animal laborans who exploits himself voluntarily, without external coercion. This self-exploitation is even more effective than exploitation by others, since it is accompanied by a feeling of freedom.

Moreover, the resulting increase in workload requires a particular technique of managing time and attention, namely multitasking. This constitutes a regression for civilization, since the cultural achievements of humanity depend rather on deep and contemplative attention.

Han relates this to the vita contemplativa, which he does not want us to understand merely in the classical philosophical sense of contemplating something eternal and perfect. In that tradition, contemplation meant admiring the Beautiful and the Perfect, considered invariable and beyond human reach. However, Han does not wish to remain within that idea. What interests him instead is the capacity for deep attention, through which one can perceive what is subtle, inconspicuous, or fragile. Without this capacity, the life of action becomes dispersed and turns into hyperactive reaction; pure activity merely prolongs what already exists and prevents anything from revealing itself in depth.

The absence of negativity transforms thinking into a mere exercise of calculation, and reflection becomes impossible, because the excess of positivity allows only the continuation of thinking, whereas the negativity of the “not-to” is a characteristic feature of contemplation. In reality, this negativity constitutes an extremely active process that consists in reaching a point of sovereignty within oneself. If one possessed only positive potential, one would instead be exposed to the object in a completely passive way. Han relates this to the story of Bartleby by Herman Melville, the story set in a Wall Street office that describes a working world composed of individuals reduced to animal laborans, where the formula “I would prefer not to” ultimately represents a form of apathy that leads to Bartleby’s death.

This overabundance of positivity produces an excessive fatigue in solitude, which isolates and divides. This is described by Peter Handke, who contrasts it with eloquent fatigue, capable of seeing and reconciling, and which loosens the constraint of the self. In this state, the in-between becomes a space of friendship as indifference, where no one and nothing dominates the others. It is a fatigue that inspires trust in the world, whereas solitary fatigue is a fatigue without a world that ultimately destroys it. Thus, eloquent fatigue is anything but a state of exhaustion in which one feels incapable of doing something; rather it is a fatigue that inspires and awakens a special kind of visibility.