Marx Madness

Karl Marx, reflecting on the works of his teacher, the philosopher G.F.W. Hegel, wrote in 1844, “Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions.” To Marx, who pioneered the atheistic philosophical framework known as dialectical materialism, religion is a product, an artifice, an innovation of human society that promotes “illusory happiness” over “real happiness.”  

Happiness that comes from the abolition of oppressive and exploitative systems — monarchism, the overwhelming power of the church, feudalism, which were waning during Marx’s time, as well as the surging forces of patriarchy, industrial capitalism and colonialism — were secondary to the possibility of salvation. Religion, offering temporary and superficial respite from the very real conditions faced by workers, peasants and women, was the “opium of the people.” 

Marx very well may have predicted March Madness. 

Fast forward 180 years. On Friday, April 5, I anxiously made my way to downtown Storrs for a night of firsts. I was going to my first real University of Connecticut bar — Huskies, to be specific — to watch my first UConn basketball game live. Lacking the wherewithal to get a ticket to the watch party in Gampel, a sports bar would suffice. After all, I haven’t exactly been a model fan in the first place. My yearslong campaign to carve out a brand as UConn’s number one hater (politically, see previous installations of this column) makes it complicated to unequivocally celebrate our basketball teams, even if they are some of the best in the country.  

But standing in that packed bar, not yet sticky with the accumulation of spilled drinks, all eyes glued to the reverse panopticon of TVs mounted on the walls as the UConn women racked up points before halftime, I finally understood everything. As Frank Reynolds would say, I get it now. Amidst the cacophony of cheers for our team and jeers toward Caitlin Clark — whose team’s karma finally caught up to them on their championship loss Sunday — it was impossible not to get completely absorbed into the excitement. For an ephemeral night, I became an unconditional fan, a loyal acolyte of the UConn name.  

In fact, even after our tragic loss, I became physically depressed well into the weekend. It got so bad that my stomach was dropping every time I saw highlight reels on YouTube. I was hollering with excitement after the men’s Saturday win, gearing up to experience some kind of cosmic catharsis if we win — and by the time you’re reading this, hopefully not tip-toeing around downed lights or broken glass, we’ll know if we got that catharsis or not.  

It’s absurd; I don’t know any of these people. The closest interaction I’ve had with Paige Bueckers or Ice Brady is waiting in the same line at Moe’s. And yet in the heat of the game, this incredible phenomenon happens in which my personhood, my individuality and my subjectivity, to use ontological terms, become totally entangled with the performances of a college basketball team. Despite UConn’s extensive ties to war profiteers whose existence is contingent on global violence, passive support for the occupation and ethnic cleansing of Palestine and constant weaponization of austerity against low-income students and university employees, these massive, inescapable issues become secondary to winning another NCAA title.  

It then becomes completely understandable how students can riot whenever UConn wins a national championship. There is such a wild imbalance between the illusory happiness that UConn delivers via its athletics program versus real happiness that taking down a stop sign at an intersection can, for a moment, make sense as honoring and celebrating the brand rather than costing it a few thousand dollars.  

But in this case, there’s a clear departure from Marx’s framing of religion as the opium of the masses. While I can’t speak for the Palestinian students whose family members are being killed by a government UConn supports through academic exchange programs and research, nor can I speak for students whose experience of sexual violence was mishandled by the university, it’s pretty apparent that those who are most captivated by our athletic success are most likely to be the least harmed by the university and its global impact. However, the strange contradiction remains: An institution that is becoming increasingly extractive can also promote more superficial happiness.  

Cards on the table, as I write this, I’m still rooting for the UConn men against Purdue. But while I’m cognizant that my dorky-glasses-emoji voice alone won’t be enough to coax people’s eyes away from the game and toward this university’s myriad of structural problems, I hope another championship win gives us the energy to pull away the fur over our eyes and demand that material, “real happiness.”