Philosophies, like everything, can be designed for usefulness, usability and desirability.
Propaganda is philosophy designed for popular adoption.
Brand is private-sector propaganda.
Philosophies, like everything, can be designed for usefulness, usability and desirability.
Propaganda is philosophy designed for popular adoption.
Brand is private-sector propaganda.
To disrespect the “mundane” obstacles that confront us in our attempts to meet our goals – to indignantly declare that some obstacles have no right to exist – to believe it is degrading to wrangle with them – such attitude are not only unhelpful practically for navigate these obstacles, they’re also unhelpful morally.
To believe one is too great to bother with lowly things is a sure route to manifest pettiness. (Perhaps the only surer route to pettiness is obedience to lowly things.)
Holding obstacles in high regard elevates us and assists our progress. We are not degraded by humble obstacles when they compel us to afford them the respect they deserve.
This is not a vision of humility. It is the opposite of that.
To wish away politics is to wish away others, and to wish away others is to wish away the world transcending one’s own horizon.
*
A widespread cynical rejection of politics as essentially base and unworthy of respect is a symptom of collective solipsism.
In philosophy, finding a new frenemy is the best thing that can happen to you. As the significance and value of the ideas deepens and intensifies, so does the uncertainty of whether your own activation of these ideas will harmonize with the hopes of the author. This electric sense is what jolts me out of bed to read at ungodly hours of the morning.
Bruno Latour:
Only in politics are people willing to talk of “trials of strength.” Politicians are the scapegoats, the sacrificial lambs. We deride, despise, and hate them. We compete to denounce their venality and incompetence, their blinkered vision, their schemes and compromises, their failures, their pragmatism or lack of realism, their demagogy. Only in politics are trials of strength thought to define the shape of things. It is only politicians who are thought to be dishonest, who are held to grope in the dark. … It takes something like courage to admit that we will never do better than a politician.
Chantal Mouffe:
Introducing the category of the ‘adversary’ requires complexifying the notion of antagonism and distinguishing two different forms in which it can emerge, antagonism properly speaking and agonism. Antagonism is struggle between enemies, while agonism is struggle between adversaries. We can therefore reformulate our problem by saying that envisaged from the perspective of ‘agonistic pluralism’ the aim of democratic politics is to transform antagonism into agonism. This requires providing channels through which collective passions will be given ways to express themselves over issues which, while allowing enough possibility for identification, will not construct the opponent as an enemy but as an adversary. An important difference with the model of ‘deliberative democracy’ is that for ‘agonistic pluralism’, the prime task of democratic politics is not to eliminate passions from the sphere of the public, in order to render a rational consensus possible, but to mobilize those passions towards democratic designs.
One of the keys to the thesis of agonistic pluralism is that, far from jeopardizing democracy, agonistic confrontation is in fact its very condition of existence. Modern democracy’s specificity lies in the recognition and legitimation of conflict and the refusal to suppress it by imposing an authoritarian order. Breaking with the symbolic representation of society as an organic body — which was characteristic of the holist mode of social organization — a democratic society acknowledges the pluralism of values, the ‘disenchantment of the world’ diagnosed by Max Weber and the unavoidable conflicts that it entails.
I agree with those who affirm that a pluralist democracy demands a certain amount of consensus and that it requires allegiance to the values which constitute its ‘ethico-political principles’. But since those ethico-political principles can only exist through many different and conflicting interpretations, such a consensus is bound to be a ‘conflictual consensus’. This is indeed the privileged terrain of agonistic confrontation among adversaries. Ideally such a confrontation should be staged around the diverse conceptions of citizenship which correspond to the different interpretations of the ethica-political principles: liberal-conservative, social-democratic, neo-liberal, radical-democratic, and so on. Each of them proposes its own interpretation of the ‘common good’, and tries to implement a different form of hegemony. To foster allegiance to its institutions, a democratic system requires the availability of those contending forms of citizenship identification. They provide the terrain in which passions can be mobilized around democratic objectives and antagonism transformed into agonism.
A well-functioning democracy calls for a vibrant clash of democratic political positions. If this is missing there is the danger that this democratic confrontation will be replaced by a confrontation among other forms of collective identification, as is the case with identity politics. Too much emphasis on consensus and the refusal of confrontation lead to apathy and disaffection with political participation. Worse still, the result can be the crystallization of collective passions around issues which cannot be managed by the democratic process and an explosion of antagonisms that can tear up the very basis of civility.
It is for that reason that the ideal of a pluralist democracy cannot be to reach a rational consensus in the public sphere. Such a consensus cannot exist. We have to accept that every consensus exists as a temporary result of a provisional hegemony, as a stabilization of power, and that it always entails some form of exclusion. The ideas that power could be dissolved through a rational debate and that legitimacy could be based on pure rationality are illusions which can endanger democratic institutions.
The horizon is what makes philosophy such a perpetually humiliating discipline. Schopenhauer said it most succinctly: “Every man takes the limits of his own field of vision for the limits of the world.” Nietzsche also spoke of the horizon myriad times in myriad ways, but always with fathomless irony: “One day we reach our goal — and now we point with pride to the long journeys we took to reach it. In truth we did not notice we were traveling. But we got so far because at each point we believed we were at home.”
This passage from Mouffe’s Agonistics is a beautiful and useful thought-jewel:
…We argued that two key concepts – ‘antagonism’ and ‘hegemony’ – are necessary to grasp the nature of the political. Both pointed to the importance of acknowledging the dimension of radical negativity that manifests itself in the ever-present possibility of antagonism. This dimension, we proposed, impedes the full totalization of society and forecloses the possibility of a society beyond division and power. This, in turn, requires coming to terms with the lack of a final ground and the undecidability that pervades every order. In our vocabulary, this means recognizing the ‘hegemonic’ nature of every kind of social order and envisaging society as the product of a series of practices whose aim is to establish order in a context of contingency. We call ‘hegemonic practices’ the practices of articulation through which a given order is created and the meaning of social institutions is fixed. According to this approach, every order is the temporary and precarious articulation of contingent practices. Things could always be otherwise and every order is predicated on the exclusion of other possibilities. Any order is always the expression of a particular configuration of power relations. What is at a given moment accepted as the ‘natural’ order, jointly with the common sense that accompanies it, is the result of sedimented hegemonic practices. It is never the manifestation of a deeper objectivity that is exterior to the practices that brought it into being. Every order is therefore susceptible to being challenged by counter-hegemonic practices that attempt to disarticulate it in an effort to install another form of hegemony.
Continuing from yesterday…
I think Libertarians are deeply confused about their policies being most favorable to individual liberties. What makes Libertarianism essentially conservative is that deregulated markets create mechanisms for imposing law on individuals and for creating collective identity, but in the private realm. And it is no accident that the most vehemently individualistic Libertarians I know all enjoy employment arrangements that distance them from the often extreme levels of control imposed in corporate employment. They have state jobs, or bounce around (a.k.a. get bounced out of) jobs, or are un-/under-employed. Yet, without a trace of irony, they continue to extoll the liberty-bestowing powers of the deregulated market.
I am currently reading Chantal Mouffe’s Democratic Paradox, which explores a fundamental tension inherent in all liberal-democratic societies, which can be summarized by Marvin Simkin’s famous formulation: “Democracy is two wolves and a lamb voting on what to eat for lunch. Freedom comes from the recognition of certain rights which may not be taken, not even by a 99% vote.”
…with modern democracy, we are dealing with a new political form of society whose specificity comes from the articulation between two different traditions. On one side we have the liberal tradition constituted by the rule of law, the defence of human rights and the respect of individual liberty; on the other the democratic tradition whose main ideas are those of equality, identity between governing and governed and popular sovereignty. There is no necessary relation between those two distinct traditions but only a contingent historical articulation.
…it is vital for democratic politics to understand that liberal democracy results from the articulation of two logics which are incompatible in the last instance and that there is no way in which they could be perfectly reconciled. Or, to put it in a Wittgensteinian way, that there is a constitutive tension between their corresponding ‘grammars’, a tension that can never be overcome but only negotiated in different ways. This is why the liberal-democratic regime has constantly been the locus of struggles which have provided the driving force of historical political developments. The tension between its two components can only be temporarily stabilized through pragmatic negotiations between political forces which always establish the hegemony of one of them.
One of the problems dogging discourse in the United States (though, honestly, probably not in the top 1000 problems) is that we lack precise language for distinguishing between an individual’s rights against majority views (a negative conception of liberty), and the rights of communities to provide themselves support to maintain themselves (a positive political freedom to shape one’s society).
When I think about it this way, it becomes clear to me that the primary value of the free market is not, in fact, to provide the maximum individual private liberty, but rather to establish conditions favorable to political freedom of autonomous communities, that is, companies.
It is for this reason that I have become interested in the free market. It is not enough anymore for me to have my own individual liberty. I want to do things to the world, with other people, in a community with specific values, hopes and goals. I want to belong to a branded company.
But if you think this means I’m becoming an advocate for de-regulation, you’d better think again. Just as powerless individuals ought to be protected from other stronger individuals, if we believe in corporate personhood (and why not?) then let’s go all the way and grant it to corporate persons of all sizes. Wouldn’t this mean protecting small corporate persons from being anti-competitively bullied by bigger corporate persons?
And while we are at it, if entrepreneurship is the fullest realization of American freedom, doesn’t that set a new goal? Are we not morally obligated to provide all Americans equal access to not only to individual liberty but also to true political freedom? This does not mean all risk is removed, but it should mean that there is not a gross difference in consequences of failure. As things stand where a rich man who fails will certainly be crestfallen and have to cut back on some luxuries, a poor person who fails faces loss of healthcare for her/his family, long-term credit destruction (which extends far beyond denial of credit), to an environment that is physically safe and to adequate education for her/his children. There’s a point where freedom becomes a merely theoretical possibility.
This region of thought is pretty new to me, so I’m guessing none of this is very new, but it sure is exciting.
To a xenophobe, any foreigner is repellant — but the xenophilic foreigner (who values foreignness as an important kind of transcendence) is exponentially foreign and deserving of exponential aversion.
“I’m not entirely sure what you’re trying to say, but actually it is not relevant to this discussion, because…”
“I don’t know exactly what you mean, but it does not answer the question I posed to you, which is…”
Both of these statements signal an attempt to shift the mode of a conversation from pluralist dialogue to rationalist interrogation.
Menckenating – v. To believe that which one cannot understand cannot be understood because it is nonsense, and then to demonstrate how “the emperor wears no clothes” by exhibiting samples of apparently obscurantist language in order to justify refusal to seriously engage what is, in fact, ideas that are plainly fully-clothed to those who have successfully overcome the limitations of objectivist thought.
When philosophers talk about experiencing a “turn” in their thought (for instance, Heidegger and Wittgenstein), the turn is often taken to be as a philosophical crisis brought on by philosophical thought and resulting in a different approach to thinking.
Increasingly, though, to my eyes, these look less like philosophical crises and more like normal transitions from immaturity to maturity: A boy’s rationalist philosophy (a natural consequence of limited social entanglements freeing the mind to theorize about its own apparently autonomous workings and capacity to intellectually master the world) is supplanted by a man’s pragmatist philosophy (an attempt to make sense of a transcendent world within which he is entangled, has been entangled from birth, and from which one cannot extract oneself especially in that boyish state of delusional autonomy).
The cash value of “expecting the unexpected”: Brace yourself for the distinctive angst that attends the arrival of the unexpected, and resolve to welcome the unexpected as an invited guest when she arrives.
*
In my view, it is very near the heart of morality to suffer for the sake of welcoming the unexpectedness of another being.
To refuse this unexpectedness is to refuse transcendence itself.
*
The cash value of “transcendence”: The permanent remainder to everything we know, which by definition is unexpectable. To accept only what we expect is to lock the world out from the cell of one’s mind, and to regard it a prisoner.
*
You cannot stop at loving the person you’ve come to know. That’s only loving an image of your own making.
I need to make friends with some fellow-nerds whose heads combust when they read stuff like this:
Religion corrects for our farsightedness. It addresses the invisibility of objects that are commonly too familiar, too available, too immanent to be seen. To this end, it intentionally cultivates nearsightedness. Religion practices myopia in order to bring both work and suffering into focus as grace. Redemption turns on this revelation.
The principle of irreduction guarantees resistant availability and bans any slick metaphysics. Absent the singular transcendence of a traditional God, grace isn’t dissolved but distributed. An object-oriented grace is fomented by a restless multitude of cross-fertilizing transcendences, resistances, and availabilities. Here, grace is the double-bind of resistant availability that both gives objects to themselves and gives them away to others. Or, better, grace is what gives objects to themselves by giving them away to others. There is no grace if the resistant is not also available and there is no grace if the available is not also resistant. Double-bound, grace has two faces. On the one hand, grace presents as the ceaseless work required by the multitude’s resistance. On the other hand, grace presents as the unavoidable suffering imposed by our passibility. Work is grace seen from the perspective of resistance. Suffering is grace seen from the perspective of availability. Hell is when the grace of either slips from view. Work and suffering are the two faces of grace.
On this account, sin is a refusal of grace. It is a refusal of this double-bind. It is a desire to go away, to be done once and for all with the necessity of negotiation, to be finally free from the imposing demands of others. Sin denies both the graciousness of resistance and the graciousness of availability. It can see neither work nor suffering as the gifts that jointly constitute the object that it is. Sin does not want to be dependent on a grace it cannot control and it does not want to be impinged on by a grace it did not request. Sin wants the given to be something other than given.
The business of religion is “to disappoint, first, to disappoint” (Latour, “Thou Shalt Not Freeze-Frame”). Religion aims to intentionally, relentlessly, and systematically disappoint this desire to go away by bringing our attention back to the most obvious features of the most ordinary objects. Its work is to bring us up short by revealing our desire to be done with the double-bind of grace. To disappoint this drive, “to divert it, break it, subvert it, to render it impossible, is just what religious talk is after” (Latour, “Thou Shalt Not Freeze-Frame”). Habitually, we smooth over the rough edges, downplay the incompatible lines, and fantasize that the relative availability of a black box depends on something other than the unruly mobs packed-away inside. Sin is the dream of an empty black box, of a black box that is absolute rather than relative, permanent rather than provisional. Sin repurposes the obscurity imposed by a black box for the sake of obscuring grace. In this way, sin is as natural as the habits upon which substances rely. But in religious practices, “incredible pain has been taken to break the habitual gaze of the viewer” (Latour, “Thou Shalt Not Freeze-Frame”). Great effort is expended to show work and suffering as something other than regrettable. “Religion, in this tradition, does everything to constantly redirect attention by systematically breaking the will to go away, to ignore, to be indifferent, blasé, bored” (Latour, “Thou Shalt Not Freeze-Frame”).
Mark this definition: religion is what breaks our will to go away.
The trick, as Latour puts it, is “to paint the disappointment of the visible without simply painting another world of the invisible” (Latour, “Thou Shalt Not Freeze-Frame”). Something obscure does need to be revealed, but the obscurity in question is not the kind proper to what is distant, resistant, or transcendent. Rather, religion aims for a revelation of the obvious as otherwise than we’d assumed. In religion, “what is hidden is not a message beneath the first one, an esoteric message, but a tone, an injunction for you, the viewer, to redirect your attention and to turn it away from the dead and back to the living” (Latour, “Thou Shalt Not Freeze-Frame”). Life and redemption depend on this revelation of a novel tone.
(This passage is from Adam Miller’s Speculative Grace. Highly recommended, if you are one of those rare freaks who actually digs theology.)
Arendt’s quote on politics and plurality is one of my key intellectual landmarks:
Action, the only activity that goes on directly between men without the intermediary of things or matter, corresponds to the human condition of plurality, to the fact that men, not Man, live on the earth and inhabit the world. While all aspects of the human condition are somehow related to politics, this plurality is specifically the condition — not only the conditio sine qua non, but the conditio per quam — of all political life.
Having immersed myself in Actor-Network Theory for the last several years Arendt’s characterization of action as “the only activity that goes on directly between men without the intermediary of things or matter” seems a little quaintly 20th Century — but her assertion that “plurality is specifically the condition — not only the conditio sine qua non, but the conditio per quam — of all political life” changed my vision of politics, and few days pass without my recalling this quote.
Prior to this understanding, I saw politics as an essentially coercive activity, done by one gang of people to another (that is, to me).
But this ignores the fact that gangs must cultivate relationships before they can become gangs, and even more importantly, it misses the crucial insight that operating as a gangs is only one possibility of alliance, and thankfully not necessarily the most common one. Certainly alliances can be a means to coercive action, but alliances can also be a end in itself, and if you think about it, one of the most fully satisfactory ends a person can accomplish. It could even be argued that goal of coercive force might actually be a means to an us-versus-them feeling of alliance, which could help explain the strange euphoria so many people feel in the face of an enemy.
*
To put it in terms of a professional dichotomy I’ve been entertaining/obsessing over, the idea of politics as essentially pluralistic changes the nature of a political problem from what is conceived as an engineering problem (active agents working on a “hard” system of passive/unfree parts) to a design problem (active agents working on or within a “soft” system composed at least in part of active/free participants).
If you see politics as social engineering, obviously you’ll want as little of it as possible. You’d be crazy not to. Social engineering is a horror (whether the social system is a governed public or a privately managed company) because it requires people to play set roles in a system and minimizes variance among parts for the same reason factories adopt Six Sigma: smooth and efficient functioning.
But if you understand politics as a participatory forming of alliances, its meaning changes from social engineering to social design: the belief that we are empowered to take collective action to change situations for the better (which pragmatists call meliorism and what innovation professionals call “design intervention”). Social design makes the system responsive to the people who constitute it, who in turn respond to the system by choosing to perform as participants — or by changing the system for more satisfactory participation.
Friendship is the parallax of two people’s existence in one shared reality.
Friendship is difference of perspective reconciled in depth.
*
Friendships are tested and actualized by fighting.
The first test is whether one fights. A second test is how one fights.
*
Friendships can end in irreconcilable difference; but conciliatory indifference can cause a friendship to never begin.
Irreconcilable difference can kill a friendship, but conciliatory indifference keeps it dead.
*
Like every reality, friendship exists in the “double-bind of resistant availability.”
Two eyes reconciling independent perspectives gains depth of vision. Two ears hearing slightly different emphases hears a stereo space. A memory that recalls and compares past and present dwells in historic depth. A mind that can grasp details while maintaining awareness of the meaningful totality that provides it significance can be said to have intellectual depth.
*
To understand the effects of parallax, we can cover the left eye and look through the right, then cover the right and look through the left. To understand stereo we can try listening through one ear alone and then the other. Philosophical hermeneutics attempts to repeat this basic operation with history and thinking.
*
Whatever remains perfectly constant barely registers as existent. A changing world is a bigger world, and a changing person is a bigger person.
*
Plato’s allegory of the cave begins with “And now, I said, let me show in a figure how far our nature is enlightened or unenlightened: — Behold! human beings living in a underground den, which has a mouth open towards the light and reaching all along the den; here they have been from their childhood, and have their legs and necks chained so that they cannot move, and can only see before them, being prevented by the chains from turning round their heads.”