Tonight, Capria and I are driving to Montana for the Thanksgiving weekend. This should be a good time and we're looking forward to it. The only lousy part is that we can't leave until 8 pm, and it'll take us about 9 hours. I must be getting old, because the prospect of an overnight road trip is quite unappealing. Plus, there will be snow going over the mountain. Even more fun. But it won't be too bad. I plan on espresso-ing myself up before I leave town, listen to good, thought-provoking CDs for the first half of the trip, and then loud, cheesy 80s metal for the last half. This recipe usually works pretty well.
I'm still having class today, although I know a number of students will have already left. I've decided to show clips from The Big Lebowski, namely the first scene in the bowling alley and then The Dude's interview with the Big Lebowski. The pedagogical value of this is that those are great scenes. Actually, I'm showing it because those scenes are nothing more than an extended argument, which I'm going to have them analyze. It should be fun.
Everyone have a great Thanksgiving. I'll probably drop a post or two over the weekend.
I’ve decided that intentionally neglecting my work for a particular project is forgivable. As well, I’ve had the idea for a while to (semi)regularly highlight a particular author/theorist/text that I happen to be reading and find interesting. So, perhaps you could call this a new “feature” on my blog.
This weekend, I read Infinite Thought, a collection of essays/lectures by the contemporary philosopher Alain Badiou. I was introduced to Badiou by Terry, a colleague and fellow theory-nut. My comments here are based on my reading of IT as well as some discussions I’ve had with Terry.
Badiou sees three major strains in 20th-Century philosophy: the Hermeneutic (Heidegger/Gadamer, et al.), the Analytic (Wittgenstein/Carnap et al.) and the Postmodern (Lyotard/Derrida, et al.). All three of these positions he sees as inadequate. In particular, it seems that he wants to shift the emphasis from language (which all three of these strains share) to being itself, to an ontology that exists outside of language. Consequently, Badiou is concerned with a return to true and universal statements, for he argues that philosophy “cannot renounce that its address is directed to everyone, in principle if not in fact, and that does not exclude from this address linguistic, national, religious or racial communities.” He wants to focus on “the question of philosophically reconstructing, with a slowness which will insulate us from the speed of the world, the category of truth – not as it is passed down to us by metaphysics, but rather as we are able to reconstitute it, taking into consideration the world as it is.”
To do this, he looks at what he calls the “event”; [his major work, not yet translated from French, is titled L’Etre et l’événment (Being and the Event)]. To be perfectly honest, I don’t fully understand this concept; the writers of the introduction state that his fundamental ontological claim is “There are situations” or “there are multiple multiplicities.” He pulls very heavily from set theory, claiming that this is the way to do ontology, which leads me to believe that he is talking about the event as the arrangement of things, ideas, forces, people, etc. I think, perhaps, he is attempting a non-essentialist ontology that still provides for truth-claims and philosophical inquiry. Hence the rejection of metaphysics yet simultaneously a desire to describe the world as it is.
All of that is to say, I found Infinite Thought fascinating and engaging, although at times challenging. I recommend it, and if anyone has read any Badiou, I’d like to hear what you have to say.
This is worth sharing. You may not think so.
The following excerpt comes from an article by Nicholas Kralev on Condoleezza Rice, published in the Washington Times:
But then she spelled out her definition of a true friend: a country that does not "put a check" on American power but stands firmly with the United States in its effort to rid the world of weapons of mass destruction and other modern ills.
"Why would anyone who shares the values of freedom seek to put a check on those values?" Miss Rice asked, adding that Europe and democracies worldwide should follow Washington's lead instead of trying to balance it with competing policies.
"Power in the service of freedom is to be welcomed, and powers that share a commitment to freedom can and must make common cause against freedom's enemies," she said in the June 2003 speech.
Miss Rice, who is one of Mr. Bush's confidants, dismissed a vision of "multipolarity" advanced by French President Jacques Chirac and others, calling it "a theory of rivalry, of competing interests," which "only the enemies of freedom would cheer."
"We have tried this before," she said. "It led to the Great War, which cascaded into the Good War, which gave way to the Cold War. Today, this theory of rivalry threatens to divert us from meeting the great tasks before us."
For a society to exist, it cannot escape the use of power. At the same time, for the members of a society to be "free," power must be limited. Ms. Rice, by claiming that "power in the service of freedom is to be welcomed," seems to be presenting a potentially contradictory position, particularly in light of the other statements she makes in this excerpt. The problem comes from the definition of "freedom." Or, the lack of definition, the inexplicability of freedom in contemporary political discourse. In other words, freedom as a "god-term."
Look closely at her statement. She sets up a hierarchy: power in the service of freedom. The freedom comes first, the power is a necessary supplement to it. The freedom is what is autonomous, sacred, first. But freedom uses power, leads to the freedom to act with power; she claims that we should not "put a check" on American values or America's place as the definer of freedom. Essentially, she sees freedom as homogeneity, a "common cause." Freedom, then, best functions in a world of sameness, not difference.
I am not aware of President Chirac's "Multipolarity" theory, although I could imagine what it might look like. Ms. Rice interprets it as promoting a "rivalry" and "competing interests" that do nothing but gladden the hearts of freedom's "enemies." Competing interests, then, are not freedom, or at least, are a potential down fall for freedom.
So freedom, according to Ms. Rice, is unified, noncompetitive, clearly defined by those who value it (the definition being the values of the United States), and a legitimate justification for the use of power. I decided to see if the dictionary shared the same definition.
Encarta: Freedom: 1. Ability to act freely. 2. Release from captivity or slavery. 3. Country's right to self-rule. 4. Right to act or speak freely. These are the first four definitions offered. With the exception of (2), none of these things seem to be encouraged by Ms. Rice in her definition. Of course, she will admit that countries have the right to self-rule legally (although rights, like the Geneva Convention, can really be considered "quaint" -- see Ashcroft's replacement), but if they desired freedom, they would not exercise that right. Nor would they seek to act freely, as that would encourage competition. Nor should they speak out, since that would encourage the enemies of freedom. And, if they are freed from captivity or slavery (read Afghanistan/Iraq), they must immediately submit themselves to the desires of that harbinger and pilot of freedom, the United States.
But perhaps there is a particular definiton of freedom that Ms. Rice may be thinking of when she makes these statements: 5. Absence of something unpleasant. Not being able to buy new clothes might be considered unpleasant. Not being able to watch TV or eat out might be considered to be unpleasant. Clearly, not being able to own a car is unpleasant. Perhaps this is the definition of "freedom" she is working out of. Although, not having adequate health care is also unpleasant. Sending your child off to war is unpleasant. Theft, murder, and embezzlement are all unpleasant. So maybe America doesn't fit that definition, either.
I argue that, at least as it is used by our leaders, "freedom" becomes a nebulous, transcendent signifier, without definition, without referent, and without a moral imperitive. Our politics and national values are filled with such terms. We need to recognize this if we are ever going to say anything.
This leaves a weird feeling in my stomache and I don't think it's the feeling they're hoping to evoke . . .
On Friday night, Capria and I shelled out the $18 to go see I (Heart) Huckabees. I was pleasantly impressed. It was humorous, clever, well acted and directed, and, for someone who spends a lot of time staring up a the stars and contemplating his own existence, sympathetic.
I would have preferred more Theatre of the Absurd formal elements. The experience of watching the film, although one may identify with the characters, does not implicate one in their existential dilemma. In watching Waiting for Godot, in contrast, the audience becomes part of the play itself, at least indirectly. By watching this play, you yourself are participating in something ridiculous. Except for a few scenes, the form of Huckabees was fairly classical, high-production values Hollywood. I think they should have played with the form a bit more. But that's just a preference, and it doesn't diminish the fact that I enjoyed it a great deal.
Plus, I again got to see the trailer for The Life Aquatic. Looking forward to that one.
I also had an extended conversation with my dad on Saturday night that was quite stimulating. It was essentially a discourse on political theory from a Christian perspective, and some of the thoughts it led to will eventually show up on this blog.
OK, I need to go get some work done.
I took the long way to school today. It was unintentional, but I didn't mind. The University of Washington campus is very, very cool. My favorite spot is known as "Red Square," due to the color of its bricks. It reminds me of a European city, particularly because Suzallo library overlooks its vast space. Suzallo library was built to look like a cathedral, because the then-president of the University believed that the library was "the spiritual center of any university." It's quite impressive. (He was later fired for his extravagant spending habits.)
Much of the rest of the campus is pocketed with green spaces. These green spaces lend to the over-healthy squirrel population. They're all pretty plump this time of year, stocking up for the cold months.
It was quiet and empty as I walked to school.
I want to salute all of those former soldiers I have known. I was considering listing them, but as I tried to think back, the number grew to be too large and then I was afraid I would miss someone. As Marines retake Fallujah, I am reminded that every time one enters a battle, they are laying down their life. Even if they survive, and return home to us safe, they have given themselves up to death. Jesus said that this was the greatest love. Love binds us.
I particularly want to honor my younger brother Caleb, who served in Iraq. Thank you. I am very proud of you.
I am about to take leave of all this political shannanigans. But I can't, completely. This doesn't work and I don't know what to say It's too deep inside of me. I want to, believe me, but then I wouldn't be able to sleep at night. An allusion to death? I have to try to live responsibly, no matter how difficult and impossible that may seem. The impossible, the impossibility of speech in this world. That is not what I meant at all. That is not it, at all. But I want to
That being said, I offer this reflection for the pundits out there who derive their very sustenance from these debates. Remember that you are going to die. And so is your opponent. The other and the self. Who you are and what you want to be. I think sometimes we are who we fear the most and that is who we hate. And everyone else living on this planet: we are all going to die.
Why does this matter? Because I believe that the spectre of our death is a driving force behind every human action. Even those who die for a cause are doing it because of their mortality and they are seeking something transcendent. Consequently, every social, political, moral, pragmatic decision, position, belief comes from an individual, a member of a collective, trying to live a life that is worthy of death. I'm not a very good cultural warrior. I'm not any sort of warrior and I don't have a culture, at least not one I can call my own. "Yes, that's me" is not something I can fully say. A pilgrim on the earth. We are all pilgrims.
This sounds more noble than it is. I'm not trying to paint an idealistic picture and say that all attempts at self-actualization are noble. Pedophilia, racism, are not noble. But we have to realize that all of it comes from fallen man faced with the universe. We are all in the same boat. And of that which we cannot speak clearly, we must remain silent. Or something like that. Forgive me for this pedantic narcissism. I can't speak clearly these days.
Ok, that last post sucked, because I never give myself enough time to write and revise what it is I want to say. You're probably thinking "it's a blog. . . what do you need to revise for?" I need to revise because a) usually I'm still figuring out what I'm trying to say and b) because I don't think I should inflict you with free writes like this one. So, I'm sorry if the last post didn't do what I wanted it to do. I was trying to say something I felt was important but it didn't come out very convincing.
Second, I have heard the chatter about the "moral" vote that seems to have sent GWB back to the White House. I sympathize with and think I understand something about those "moral" voters; I also understand the deeply painful and divisive issue of abortion that often fuels those voters. I have no problem with those who voted because of what they believe. I think that is how one ought to vote.
But what does upset me (be warned, Paul rant, and I'm not really revising) is this idea that somehow things like the war in Iraq and international policy are not "moral issues." How can they not be? How can we act as though international policies and the war on terror are somehow backburner, amoral issues? It's as if we are fighting terrorism in order to eke out a space on this globe where we can exercise our constitutional and moral right to stop gay people from marrying each other. Hell, we start down that path and who knows, it might lead to multicultural education!! Gasp!! Might as well slap a maple leaf on us and call us Canada.
OK, that sounds patronizing and I don't mean to (well, maybe a little) but I just feel as though this election is a symptom of the rampant self-centeredness we often find in America. It's this self-centeredness that enables us to act like whatever happens outside our borders only has moral implications if it influences us inside our borders. War in Iraq keeping us safe? Nothing else needs to be said, it's morally justifiable. Multinational corporations making us wealthier, even if they are polluting the rest of the planet and damaging third world economies? Good by me.
I believe that our corruption lies much deeper than the "moral" vote. So go label me some wussy anti-american. All I have to say is that I tried to vote my conscience as well.
During the early days of the war in Iraq, some threw the word "traitor" at those who raised criticism of their country's decision. To criticize us was, very simply, to side with them, the enemy, the opponent. There was little respect or tolerance for dissonance, even though those dissenting voices were loud and hard to ignore.
What lies behind that attitude, that fear of the critic? In part, it is the simple principle of solidarity, of collective identity. It is also the fact that disagreement, particularly reasonable disagreement, is always a hard thing to face. That which we believe to be true we seek to affirm, as aggressively as we seek to deny that which we believe to be false. I think this is a natural tendency, and not inherently wrong.
Whatever the cause, in an open society we will always have at least two forces, two discourses: the dominant and the minority. In moral terms, there is nothing inherent in either of these discourses to guarantee uprightness: that is, the dominant is not right because it is dominant, just as the minority is not morally superior because it is in a minority.
But there is a right and wrong way to view these two discourses. I believe that a silent minority is the sign of an unhealthy society, regardless of the nature of that minority. The reason for this is that a vocal (or at least acknowledged) minority is the built-in means for social critique. Without criticism, we cannot improve, we cannot reassess, we cannot look at ourselves, which is the most difficult perspective.
Yesterday in America, the dominant voice spoke, and spoke clearly. At the same time, that dominant voice was only slightly more powerful than the minority. Interestingly enough, despite this divide, both candidates immediately called for unity. Unity is not a bad thing. But it can be a disguise for silencing dissent.
This blog is named after my commitment to the inbetween, the dialogic and messy interplay between the dominant and the dissident, the thought and the action, the voice and the word. Based on that commitment, I ask that those who identify as the victor or the underdog (or both) look closely, carefully, and respectfully at this delicate relationship. I think it's good for all of us.
My voter virginity, that is.
Capria and I sloshed through the rain at 6:45 am to cast our ballots. It was a good feeling, although here is an interesting confession: I think I qualified as an "undecided voter" until the very end. Seriously, we were sitting in line and thought to myself, I just don't know. It's such a responsibility, and I didn't want to cop out. I expressed this to Capria and she and I agreed there was one solution: man up. Fill in that oval and walk away.
So I did. Now I can do nothing but watch and see what happens. Really, it'll fun. See you all on the other side. I've got students waiting for me.