In 1942, economist Joseph Schumpeter introduced the concept of creative destruction in his seminal work, Capitalism, Socialism, and Democracy. He described it as the process by which innovations such as new technologies, products, or methods, disrupt and ultimately dismantle established economic structures to pave the way for novel systems and opportunities. This relentless cycle of renewal is not merely a feature of capitalism but its very engine, driving progress through the destruction of the old to make room for the new. Beyond economics, creative destruction serves as a powerful lens for understanding transformation in art, culture, and society, acting as a bridge between the analytical rigor of economics and the expressive freedom of creative disciplines.
The transition from horse-drawn carriages to automobiles exemplifies creative destruction because the innovative technology of cars disrupted and largely eliminated the established carriage industry, displacing related jobs and infrastructure while creating new markets, industries, and opportunities for economic growth.
Schumpeter argued that capitalism thrives on innovation, but this comes at a cost. Established industries, firms, and practices often become obsolete as entrepreneurs introduce groundbreaking ideas. The rise of the automobile, for instance, decimated the horse-drawn carriage industry, while digital streaming platforms have largely supplanted traditional media like DVDs and broadcast television. This process is not gentle, as it disrupts livelihoods, renders skills obsolete, and reshapes markets. Yet, Schumpeter saw it as essential for economic vitality, as it fosters efficiency, growth, and adaptation.
The shift from Neoclassical art to Impressionism exemplifies creative destruction as Impressionist artists like Monet and Renoir rejected the rigid, idealized forms of Neoclassicism, disrupting traditional artistic conventions with innovative techniques like loose brushwork and vibrant colors, thus creating new avenues for expression while rendering older styles less dominant.
The parallels between economic and artistic innovation are striking. In art, creative destruction manifests as the rejection of established norms, styles, or mediums in favor of bold experimentation. Consider the transition from Romanticism to Impressionism in the 19th century. Artists like Claude Monet and Pierre-Auguste Renoir broke with the rigid conventions of academic painting, embracing loose brushwork and vibrant color palettes to capture fleeting moments of light and life. This shift shocked the art world, rendering traditional techniques less relevant while opening new avenues for expression.
Similarly, the 20th century saw movements like Dadaism and Abstract Expressionism dismantle prevailing aesthetic frameworks. Marcel Duchamp’s Fountain (1917), a readymade urinal presented as art, challenged the very definition of artistic value, forcing a reevaluation of creativity itself. These disruptions, while initially controversial, expanded the boundaries of art, inspiring future generations to explore uncharted territory.
The concept of creative destruction serves as a bridge between economics and art, illuminating their shared reliance on reinvention. In both domains, progress demands a willingness to let go of the familiar. Just as entrepreneurs disrupt markets with innovative business models, artists challenge cultural norms with provocative works. This shared dynamic invites reflection on broader societal phenomena, such as reinvention, disruption, and even gentrification.
Gentrification can be viewed through the lens of creative destruction, as it revitalizes areas and creates new opportunities, but at times comes at the cost of cultural erasure.
Gentrification, for example, can be viewed through the lens of creative destruction. As urban neighborhoods evolve, new businesses, residents, and cultural trends displace longstanding communities and traditions. While this process can revitalize areas, it often comes at the cost of cultural erasure or displacement, raising ethical questions about who benefits from such transformations. Similarly, in technology, the rise of artificial intelligence disrupts traditional labor markets but also creates opportunities for new industries and creative pursuits.
Creative destruction reminds us that progress is not linear or painless. It requires courage to dismantle the old, whether it be an obsolete industry or a revered artistic tradition. Yet, this destruction is not an end but a beginning, a catalyst for innovation that drives societies forward. By embracing the discomfort of change, we unlock the potential for reinvention, ensuring that both economies and cultures remain dynamic and resilient.
In conclusion, Schumpeter’s concept of creative destruction transcends economics, offering a framework to understand transformation across disciplines. Its resonance in art underscores the universal need for disruption as a precursor to creation. As we navigate an era of rapid technological and cultural change, creative destruction challenges us to balance the costs of disruption with the promise of renewal, fostering a deeper appreciation for the cycles that shape our world.
In economics, externalities are costs or benefits that affect parties who did not choose to incur them. A factory polluting a river, for example, imposes costs on downstream communities, including health issues, contaminated water, and dead ecosystems, while the factory reaps profits without bearing the full burden. This concept, though rooted in economics, reverberates far beyond, offering a lens to examine exploitation, ethical failures in the art world, and the unaccountable sprawl of global supply chains.
A factory polluting the air in pursuit of a profit is an example of a negative externality, as it results in a producer offloading harm onto others.
Externalities occur when the price of a good or service does not reflect its true social cost or benefit. Negative externalities such as pollution, arise when producers offload harm onto others. Positive externalities occur when benefits spill over, often unintentionally. For example, a homeowner who maintains a vibrant community garden not only enjoys their own harvest but also enhances property values and fosters social bonds for neighbors, who reap these benefits without contributing to the garden’s upkeep. The issue lies in accountability: those creating the externality often face no consequences, leaving society to clean up the mess.
An example of an externality would be a coal plant. A coal plant generates cheap energy but spews carbon, worsening climate change. The plant’s owners profit, while the global public pays the price in floods, heatwaves, and displacement. The market, left unchecked, incentivizes this imbalance. Economists propose solutions such as carbon taxes or cap-and-trade systems to internalize these costs, but implementation lags, especially across borders.
The production of consumer products such as smartphones often amplifies externalities.
Global supply chains amplify externalities by diffusing responsibility. For example, a smartphone’s production spans continents: cobalt mined in Congo, assembled in China, sold in the US. Each step generates externalities, child labor, toxic waste, carbon emissions, yet no single entity is held accountable. The consumer enjoys a sleek device, unaware of the social and environmental toll embedded in its supply chain.
International trade agreements often prioritize profit over people. Developing nations, desperate for economic growth, become dumping grounds for externalities. Factories in Bangladesh or Vietnam produce cheap goods for Western markets, but lax regulations mean workers face unsafe conditions, and rivers turn toxic. The harm is outsourced, invisible to the end consumer. Globalization’s promise of efficiency masks a darker truth: it thrives on exploiting those least equipped to resist.
The art world, often seen as a bastion of creativity, is not immune to externalities. Consider the ethics of art production. Large-scale installations may rely on materials sourced through exploitative labor or environmentally destructive practices. Artists and galleries rarely account for these costs, yet their work is celebrated in pristine white cubes. The harm, deforestation, and displaced communities remain out of sight.
The art world is increasingly confronting the concept of negative externalities. .
Patronage also breeds externalities. Wealthy collectors or institutions fund art to burnish their image, but their money may come from industries tied to social or environmental damage. The art world becomes complicit, laundering reputations while ignoring the broader impact. A museum funded by an oil magnate might showcase “radical” art, but the contradiction festers: the institution profits while externalizing the cost of its patron’s legacy.
Externalities expose a core flaw in institutions, that they are often built to prioritize self-preservation over systemic responsibility. Governments, corporations, and cultural bodies often deflect blame, leaving marginalized groups to bear the brunt. For instance, urban development projects gentrify neighborhoods, displacing low-income residents while developers profit. The social cost, fractured communities, lost cultural heritage, is externalized, unaddressed by those who caused it.
Institutional criticism, a practice rooted in questioning power structures, can challenge this. Artists like Hans Haacke have used their work to expose how institutions evade accountability, from corporate sponsorships to political influence. By shining a light on externalities, such a critique forces us to question who pays the price for progress, and why they are left holding the bill.
Policies such as carbon taxes can help address externalities, but there is much resistance to such policies by entrenched interests.
Addressing externalities requires systemic change. Policy tools like carbon taxes or labor regulations can help, but they face resistance from entrenched interests. On a cultural level, society might need to rethink value, not just in markets but in art, ethics, and global systems. Consumers can demand transparency in supply chains. Artists can interrogate their materials and patrons. Institutions can prioritize accountability over optics.
The concept of externalities is not just economic; it is a moral framework. It asks us to see the hidden costs society has normalized and to demand a world where harm is not offloaded onto the voiceless. Until we confront these unseen burdens, exploitation will persist, cloaked in the guise of progress.
In many countries, a striking economic divide persists which is known as the dual economy. This phenomenon describes the coexistence of two distinct economic sectors within a single nation: an advanced, modern sector integrated with global markets, and a subsistence sector characterized by informal, low-productivity activities. The dual economy can be thought of as two parallel worlds, operating side by side yet rarely intersecting, each with its own rules, opportunities, and challenges.
Within the concept of the dual economy, the advanced sector of the economy is usually centered around an urban area that is technologically sophisticated and globally connected.
The advanced sector is typically the face of progress: urban, technologically sophisticated, and globally connected. It encompasses industries including tech, finance, and manufacturing, where workers enjoy higher wages, formal employment, and access to global supply chains. The advanced sector drives innovation, attracts investment, and fuels economic growth.
Cities such as Buenos Aires are characterized by having both an advanced economic sector and a subservient sector existing side by side.
The duality creates a layered reality. A city like New York or London might boast gleaming financial districts while nearby slums house workers scraping by in the informal economy. These are not just economic divides but social and cultural ones, shaping distinct lifestyles, opportunities, and even worldviews.
This divide inspires powerful narratives. Artists and writers often explore themes of exclusion, who gets to participate in the “modern” world? The informal sector’s invisibility resonates in stories of marginalized voices, while the idea of parallel worlds invites speculative takes on alternate realities coexisting in one space.
Advanced sectors of the economy, such as Artificial Intelligence (AI) often benefit from government policies and public investment, while the subservience sector is left to fend for itself. This dynamic perpetuates inequality.
The dual economy is not just a quirk; it is a structural challenge. The advanced sector often benefits from government policies, infrastructure, and global trade, while the subsistence sector is left to fend for itself. This perpetuates inequality, as those in the informal economy lack access to education, healthcare, or capital to transition to higher-productivity work. Bridging this gap requires targeted policies: microfinance, skill development, and infrastructure investment can help integrate the subsistence sector into the broader economy.
Yet, the dual economy also highlights resilience. Informal workers, often excluded from formal systems, demonstrate remarkable adaptability, creating livelihoods against the odds. Their stories deserve to be told, not just as tales of struggle but as testaments to human ingenuity.
The dual economy is more than an economic framework, it is a reflection of stratified, parallel worlds within a single society. It challenges us to see the invisible, to question who benefits from progress, and to imagine ways to bridge the divide. Whether through policy, art, or storytelling, exploring this concept invites us to confront the layered realities of our world and envision a more inclusive future.
The ways in which the West perceives and represents the Middle East and other non-Western regions have long influenced political decisions, cultural attitudes, and international relations. These representations often go beyond simple misunderstandings or stereotypes; they form complex, deeply rooted narratives that shape policies and justify actions on the global stage. Understanding these narratives, and how they have evolved, is essential to unpacking the persistent power dynamics between the West and the so-called “Orient.”
What is Orientalism and Neo-Orientalism
Orientalism refers to the historically entrenched framework through which the West has constructed an image of the East as exotic, backward, and fundamentally different, often to justify colonial domination. Neo-Orientalism is a contemporary evolution of this discourse, adapting traditional stereotypes to modern geopolitical contexts, particularly through media, politics, and diaspora voices, to sustain influence and legitimize intervention in the region.
Orientalism and Neo-Orientalism: From Colonial Gaze to Contemporary Narratives
The intertwined concepts of Orientalism and Neo-Orientalism are not just academic abstractions; they are frameworks that have shaped how the West sees, talks about, and interacts with the Middle East, North Africa, and broader “Eastern” societies for centuries.
Edward Said’s seminal 1978 book Orientalism brought the ideas behind the concept of Orientalism to the forefront of scholarly discourse on how the West views the Middle East and other non-Western regions of the world.
Orientalism, a 1978 book written by the renowned Palestinian-American political activist and literary critic Edward Said, fundamentally changed the conversation about cultural representation. He argued that the West’s depictions of the “Orient” were never neutral, but part of a system of domination in which knowledge production served political and military power.
In Orientalism, Said said that “the Orient was almost a European invention, and had been since antiquity a place of romance, exotic beings, haunting memories and landscapes, remarkable experiences. The Orient has helped to define Europe (or the West) as its contrasting image, idea, personality, experience.” This “invention,” according to Said, was not just a matter of stereotypes; it was a form of political technology. By defining the East as mysterious, decadent, irrational, or dangerous, the West justified colonization, intervention, and control, according to Said.
Orientalism: The Original Framework
The European fascination with “the Orient” stretches back centuries, with early expressions found in medieval Crusader chronicles, travelogues, and Renaissance trade accounts. However, it was during the 18th and 19th centuries, the height of European imperial expansion, that Orientalism evolved into a fully institutionalized framework. This transformation occurred across multiple arenas: academia produced scholarly studies and translations that framed Eastern cultures as objects of knowledge, museums collected and displayed artifacts that emphasized the exotic and timeless nature of the East, literature romanticized and mystified Eastern peoples and places, and political discourse used these portrayals to legitimize colonial and imperial ambitions.
At the heart of Orientalism was a set of enduring characteristics that shaped Western perceptions of Eastern societies in reductive and essentialist ways. One such trait was timelessness—the notion that Eastern societies were frozen in a static past, resistant to change or modernization. Unlike the West, which was cast as dynamic and progressive, the Orient was portrayed as trapped in antiquity, as if centuries of social, political, and economic development had passed it by. This assumption erased the complexity and evolution of these societies, rendering them objects to be dominated rather than partners in global exchange.
This painting exemplifies 18th and 19th-century Orientalism, depicting the Middle East through a Western lens filled with culturally specific markers like harems, minarets, bustling bazaars, and intricate decorative arts. Such imagery reinforced exoticized and often stereotyped views of the region, shaping Western perceptions with a mix of fascination and otherness.
Closely related was exoticism, the fascination with culturally specific markers such as harems, minarets, bazaars, and ornate decorative arts. These images served a dual purpose: they evoked beauty and mystery that captivated Western audiences, yet simultaneously suggested irrationality, sensuality, and otherness. This framing rendered Eastern peoples as fundamentally different, alien, and sometimes dangerous, fueling fantasies and fears alike.
Another cornerstone was despotism. Orientalist discourse frequently reduced political life in Eastern societies to the absolute rule of tyrannical leaders over passive, submissive populations. This simplification erased the presence of complex governance systems, resistance movements, intellectual debates, and vibrant civil societies that existed historically and contemporaneously. By portraying Eastern polities as inherently despotic, Orientalism justified Western intervention as a civilizing mission necessary to bring order and progress.
Finally, Orientalism constructed a clear moral hierarchy in which the West occupied the position of modernity, rationality, and democracy, while the East was depicted as pre-modern, emotional, and authoritarian. This hierarchy not only naturalized Western superiority but also delegitimized Eastern knowledge, values, and political systems. It created a dichotomy that made Western domination appear benevolent and inevitable, reinforcing the structures of colonial power.
Together, these characteristics created a pervasive worldview that shaped cultural attitudes, scholarship, and policy for generations. They provided the ideological underpinnings for colonial rule and continue to influence how the West perceives the Middle East and other non-Western regions to this day.
Neo-Orientalism: Updating the Script for the 21st Century
In the decades after formal colonialism’s decline, Western powers found new ways to sustain influence in the Middle East. Neo-Orientalism is not simply “modern Orientalism,” it is a recalibration for the era of
counterterrorism, globalization, and human rights discourse.
The core shifts from Orientalism to Neo-Orientalism include moving from colonies to client states that the west no longer rules directly, but maintains influence through military bases, arms sales, aid packages, sanctions, and covert operations
The core shifts from Orientalism to Neo-Orientalism include moving from colonies to client states that the West no longer rules directly, but maintains influence through military bases, arms sales, aid packages, sanctions, and covert operations. The focus also shifted from exotic to pathological. For example, 19th-century Orientalism romanticized the East’s “sensuality,” while Neo-Orientalism focuses on dysfunction in the region, such as terrorism, civil war, and religious extremism. Additionally, Neo-Orientalism is shaped not only by Western scholars but also by journalists, think-tank analysts, and members of Middle Eastern diasporas who speak to Western audiences in ways that can align with state priorities.
The Role of Middle Eastern Diaspora Groups In Neo-Orientalist Discourse
Diaspora politics also plays a significant role in Neo-Orientalist discourse. Many exiled activists fight for democracy, human rights, and dignity in their homelands. But their positioning in Western societies, especially those closely tied to US foreign policy, means their advocacy is often co-opted into Neo-Orientalist narratives.
The National Iranian American Council (NIAC) is an example of a Middle Eastern diaspora organization at the forefront of challenging neo-Orientalist narratives about Iran. However, it is frequently criticized by more conservative members of the Iranian diaspora, some of whom perpetuate the very neo-Orientalist ideals NIAC seeks to dismantle.
Among Iranian diaspora groups, the National Iranian American Council (NIAC) advocates diplomacy over war between the US and Iran, pushing back against the reduction of Iran to a monolithic “rogue state.” Its founder, Trita Parsi, has warned against “the dangerous simplicity of a caricatured Iran” in US media. However, NIAC is often targeted by more hardline factions in the Iranian diaspora who lobby for maximum pressure policies, sanctions, and even military action, positions that frequently rely on Neo-Orientalist portrayals of Iran as a theocratic government incapable of reform without forced regime change. Some Iranian exile figures, particularly in satellite TV outlets like Iran International, adopt highly simplified narratives that present the Iranian state as an irredeemable regime and dismiss all nuance around the humanitarian impact of Western sanctions. While they often speak from personal grievance, their language sometimes echoes the pathologizing tone of Western security discourse.
Organizations such as the Jewish Voice for Peace also work to challenge the dominant Neo-Orientalist discourse regarding the Israeli-Palestinian confict.
The Role of Media in Perpetuating Neo-Orientalist Ideas
Media coverage of recent Middle East conflicts reveals how Neo-Orientalist narratives continue to shape perceptions and public discourse, often simplifying complex political realities into cultural stereotypes that serve strategic interests.
The coverage by Western media of the ongoing Israeli actions in Gaza generally portrays the Palestinian people as the instigastor of the conflict and minimizes the human cost of the confict on the Palestinian people.
Western media often framed the 2020s escalation in the Israel–Gaza conflict as a humanitarian crisis caused largely by Hamas’ intransigence, with Israel portrayed as a reluctant actor forced into action. The decades-long siege of Gaza, asymmetry of firepower, and structural conditions imposed by occupation were minimized or omitted. The Orientalist roots are clear: Palestinians were depicted either as irrational aggressors or as passive dependents on Western aid, but rarely as political agents with their own strategies and visions for liberation.
In the 12-Day Iran–Israel conflict, US and European outlets frequently described Iran’s actions as the product of religious extremism and ideological hatred. Israeli military strikes, by contrast, were framed as “surgical” and “defensive.” The impact of the war on Iranian civilians received limited coverage compared to narratives about “crippling” Iran’s military infrastructure. This selective moral framing echoes the old Orientalist assumption that Eastern actors are driven by passion and zealotry, while Western allies act with reason and restraint.
In both cases, the pattern is clear: political disputes are reframed as cultural deficiencies, and local voices that challenge this framing are marginalized.
Neo-Orientalist Narratives and Western Policy
Over the past two decades, Neo-Orientalist frameworks have deeply influenced policymaking and public justification for interventions in Iran, Palestine, Iraq, and Afghanistan. These narratives, repeated in government statements, congressional hearings, and official reports, have helped legitimize military actions, economic sanctions, and political isolation.
Regarding Iran, US President George W. Bush famously labeled Iran as part of an “Axis of Evil” in 2002, framing it as a rogue state bent on nuclear weapons development and sponsoring terrorism. This rhetoric echoed Neo-Orientalist tropes of Iran as an irrational, fanatical theocracy. This framing justified the 2006–2015 sanctions regime, covert cyber operations such as Stuxnet, and continued military posturing in the Persian Gulf. The European Union largely followed the lead of the US, incorporating similar language in parliamentary debates and European Union policy papers that emphasized Iran’s “destabilizing” role and “repressive” government. Such discourse ignored Iran’s legitimate security concerns, its role in regional diplomacy, and domestic reformist movements. The Neo-Orientalist caricature made dialogue appear naïve and dangerous.
In Iraq and Afghanistan, post-9/11, the US and the UK framed Afghanistan as a lawless, Taliban-controlled “tribal” backwater harboring terrorists. Iraq was portrayed as a dictatorship hiding weapons of mass destruction and oppressing its people with brutal tribal and sectarian divisions. These portrayals drew directly on Orientalist ideas of stagnant, irrational Eastern societies.
Neo-Orientalist discorse often frames the Israeli-Palestinian conflict through a security lens that centers on the Israeli perspective, often portraying Palestinian resistance as terrorism as opposed to a legitimate polticial struggle.
Regarding Palestine, the US and the European Union have frequently framed the Israeli-Palestinian conflict through a security lens that centers Israeli perspectives, portraying Palestinian resistance primarily as terrorism rather than legitimate political struggle. Such framing delegitimizes Palestinian political aspirations and underplays the effects of occupation and settlement expansion. This perspective also aligns with Neo-Orientalist depictions of Palestinians as irrationally violent, while Israeli policies are often portrayed as defensive. European Union foreign policy statements have echoed these concerns but often emphasize a “two-state solution” without critically addressing power imbalances or structural violence.
Orientalism and its neo-form are not simply about representation; they influence war, diplomacy, immigration policy, and public empathy. A public conditioned to see Iran as a theocracy incapable of reform or Gaza as a chaotic warzone will be more likely to support sanctions, arms sales, or military interventions.
Recognizing the mechanics of these narratives allows us to ask deeper questions: who gets to speak for a country or a people? Which voices are amplified, and which are ignored? How does “expertise” get constructed in ways that serve existing power structures?
The persistence of Orientalism, whether in the romanticized paintings made in 19th Century Europe or in contemporary op-eds calling to “save” Muslim women from their culture, shows that the gaze has evolved, not disappeared. The challenge is to disrupt this gaze, to insist on seeing the East not as a mirror for Western self-image, but as a collection of diverse societies with their own histories, agency, and futures.
