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Real Life Philosophy Top Ten [Jan. 2nd, 2010|03:19 am]
[mood | refreshed]
[music |The Doors, "When the Music's Over"]

Rock critic and all-around pop culture intellectual Greil Marcus has, for a number of years and across a number of different publications, written a list he calls "Real Life Rock Top Ten." It's a chance to look back across the year and take stock--mostly citing the good, occasionally citing the bad, and in general marking the important and/or worthy of note. It seems like a nice idea, and so I thought I'd mark the beginning of 2010 with a look back at the year that was. Here it is, then: my real life philosophy top ten for 2009.

The List )
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The Fate of an Archer! [Dec. 9th, 2009|07:49 pm]
[mood | drained]
[music |Thomas Dolby, "Leipzig Is Calling"]

This is a republication of a column I wrote for SequArt.com, back when they were still hosting scholarly content. It is reprinted here almost exactly as it was there--I am not updating any of the ideas, links, etc., but have silently corrected a few spelling and grammatical errors.

Originally published at Sequart.com on August 12, 2007


Green Arrow and the Eternal Return of the Repressed )
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Let Freedom Reign [Dec. 5th, 2009|01:20 am]
[mood | tired]
[music |Desperate Bicycles, "The Medium Was Tedium"]

This is a republication of a column I wrote for SequArt.com, back when they were still hosting scholarly content. It is reprinted here almost exactly as it was there--I am not updating any of the ideas, links, etc., but have silently corrected a few spelling and grammatical errors.

Originally published at Sequart.com on May 24, 2007

On Spider-Man and Fascism )
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Ahh...The net is vast... [Dec. 4th, 2009|12:56 am]
[mood | amused]
[music |Scritti Politti, "Skank Bloc Bologna"]

In very brief:

The oddest phenomenon today, and a first for me: I inadvertently came across this post on a blog called "The Classroom," written by someone called "The Professor" (a Professor Quinn, the domain name would suggest...), who writes:
Yeah, I know that it's all about comic books, but Lampert's piece is an interesting work of literary criticism nonetheless. And in case you've been living under a rock (or on another continent, which is essentially the same thing), Captain America died.
What follows is a repost--in its entirety--of a column I wrote for a (now largely defunct*) website called SequArt.

I've officially been...reblogged.

* This is actually how I came across said blog: SequArt has apparently devolved into a promo site for its founder, who has since gotten into the movie business. All of the scholarly content is gone, and so I'm planning on re-posting my series of comic essays here. This process would be made far simpler if I could find a Google cache or the like of the original columns somewhere on the 'net--So far, however, The Professor's blog is the closest I've come...Stay tuned.
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The Girl from Ipanema Takes On Health-Care Reform [Oct. 25th, 2009|01:58 pm]
[mood | busy]
[music |Fine Young Cannibals: "Ever Fallen in Love?"]

Is there any music more democratically egalitarian than elevator music? It seems to me that any other form of music privileges some at the expense of others--classical music, rap, rock'n'roll, even pop or "top 40," each of these has its demographic, its fan base, to whom it will appeal. The playing of such musics in any space will, then, bring more enjoyment to this demographic, while bringing no pleasure--or even displeasure--to the rest. It would seem that the only way to be genuinely egalitarian, then, would be to play elevator music: the only genre of music that has no demographic, that offends everyone, that is guaranteed to bring no more pleasure to your neighbor than it does to you.

Some Smooth Variations on a Popular Theme )
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Off the Beaten Track [Aug. 10th, 2009|04:10 am]
[mood | anxious]
[music |David Bowie, "Life On Mars?"]



A philosophy comic for you--though I'm afraid the joke is rather Heideggerian, sorry...

Full cartoon under the cut... )
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Inbetween Days [Aug. 8th, 2009|06:30 pm]
[mood | busy]
[music |Santigold, "My Superman"]

Goth turned 30 this week--a strange position indeed for the strange subculture. To mark the occasion, I thought I'd try to put down some thoughts I've been having over the last few years about the philosophical significance of goth, a subculture that has been a constant companion over the years of my own philosophical development.

You, the Night and the Music )

One last note, speaking of goth: A reminder that I've been doing a comic strip for Morbid Outlook called "Cemetery Polka," and strip #4 should go up online later this month...!
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I'm So Bored with the U.S.A. [Jun. 8th, 2009|05:36 pm]
[mood | working]
[music |Depeche Mode, "Lilian"]

Now we say that the function of a [kind of thing]--of a harpist, for instance--is the same in kind as the function of an excellent individual of the kind--of an excellent harpist, for instance. And the same is true without qualification in every case, if we add to the function the superior achievement in accord with the virtue; for the function of the harpist is to play the harp, and the function of the good harpist to play it well.
--Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, 1098a10
One hears the question a lot: Is the President doing a good job?

I recently overheard the following exhange in the faculty lounge at one of the schools where I teach:

Faculty Member #1: ...So what do you actually think of Obama?

Faculty Member #2: I think he's really naive.

FM1: Wha--naive?! The guy is a constitutional law scholar! What more can you ask for in a President's qualifications?!

FM2: Exactly, he's a law scholar; the guy doesn't know anything about economics!

These two gentlemen are, of course, arguing at cross purposes. But regardless of whether either or both of them is correct, it raises an interesting question: What is the President's job?

Ask a stupid question... )
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Being and Amok Time [May. 30th, 2009|11:51 pm]
[mood | geeky]
[music |Peter Schilling, "Major Tom (Völlig losgelöst)"]

In growing accustomed to the idea of events happening in an ever-continuing present, the reader loses track of the fact that they should develop according to the dictates of time. Losing consciousness of it, he forgets the problems which are at its base, that is, the existence of freedom, the possibility of planning, the necessity of carrying plans out, the sorrow that such planning entails, the responsibility that it implies, and, finally, the existence of an entire human community whose progressiveness is based on making plans.
--Umberto Eco, "The Myth of Superman"

There is a strange theme running through geek culture these days: predestination. It's a perennial theme in fantasy, of course--either a prophecy must be fulfilled (the current example: Harry Potter, whose entire life and seven book series is dominated by a prophecized encounter with running villain Voldemort), or divine intervention guides or influences the protagonist's actions and choices (as with the show Reaper--most notably in the recent season 2 finale, in which Sam's season-long plan is undone by the timely intervention of an angel). But it is a theme cropping up with increasing frequency in both the super-hero and sci-fi genres as well, in the form of the prequel (for lack of a better term--in short, stories designed to show the histories or "back stories" of iconic characters, to show how they got to be who they are, etc.). The recent trend arguably began with Marvel's Ultimate line (relaunches more than prequels, but already with some of the elements we'll be dealing with below), but was certainly carried forward by the early success of the Smallville television series, and more recently the show (tragically cancelled in its prime) Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles. (More examples could of course be mentioned; for example, a prequel series in the true sense, Star Trek: Enterprise...)

As far as it goes, this is only moderately interesting: it's one, currently popular, theme among many (or at least several). But what is really striking is that all three major, geek, blockbuster movie releases this summer have been 'prequels': X-Men Origins: Wolverine; Star Trek; and now, finally, Terminator: Salvation.

Of course, you will object: of these three, only Wolverine was a true prequel. Star Trek was officially billed as a series relaunch, and Terminator: Savlation is officially billed as a sequel. Allow me, then, to say a few words about these most recent two--for in doing so, I'll also be able to get to the heart of what I think is at stake in this newly-popular geek theme. What follows, then, will be a (lengthy, sorry!) combination of multi-movie review and rumination on the philosophy of history...

Some spoilers--and social theory--behind the cut... )
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Starf*ckers (We Are the Dollars & Cents) [Apr. 1st, 2009|04:14 pm]
[mood | amused]
[music |Radiohead, "Life In A Glasshouse"]

Available as of today, at a bookstore near you (or, at least, near your web browser...):



...In which you will find my very first published essay, "Why A Rock Band in a Desolate Time?"

Backdrifts )

Keep an eye out for the book, then: Radiohead and Philosophy: Fitter, Happier, More Deductive. You'll find yours truly buried deep in the second half of the book. If you get a chance to flip back and give it a read, I welcome any and all feedback/thoughts/complaints.
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To Have and To Hold [Feb. 10th, 2009|05:13 pm]
[mood | sleepy]
[music |INXS, "Suicide Blonde"]

phi-los-o-phy [fi-los-uh-fee] –noun, plural -phies.

  1. the rational investigation of the truths and principles of being, knowledge, or conduct.

  2. any of the three branches, namely natural philosophy, moral philosophy, and metaphysical philosophy, that are accepted as composing this study.

  3. a system of philosophical doctrine: the philosophy of Spinoza.

  4. the critical study of the basic principles and concepts of a particular branch of knowledge, esp. with a view to improving or reconstituting them: the philosophy of science.

  5. a system of principles for guidance in practical affairs.

  6. a philosophical attitude, as one of composure and calm in the presence of troubles or annoyances.



Who knows what dreadfully clever internet denizen first came up with it, but there's a saying that goes around, summing up the 'commonsense' idea of what philosophy (and, for that matter, religion) is: "Philosophy is questions that can't be answered; Religion is answers that can't be questioned." This is, in fact, often the pre-understanding of philosophy my students have when they enter my intro classes as well: Philosophy is about asking a lot of questions, most of which can't be answered. Leaving aside, for the moment, the way this caricature of philosophy works to make the discipline seem so irrelevant, let's instead notice something odd about the other way the word "philosophy" gets used in common parlance: "My philosophy about this is..." "What's your business philosophy?" "I have a philosophy about cooking I'd like to share with you..." Etc. From Suite101.com:
Philosophy is the foundation to preventing mediocrity. Most people consider philosophy useful only in the realm of morals. Is an action right or wrong and how will it affect my eternal soul? The dictionary definition of philosophy is a set of beliefs, principles, or aims, underlying somebody's practice or conduct. A philosophy can be a guide to growing your business. By defining what you consider important, you can decide what projects to tackle and which to leave to others.
Notice how the word "philosophy" is used here to indicate, not a set of questions (answerable or no), but a set of answers. Furthermore, though both 'accepted' definitions of the word "philosophy," these two uses have no relation to each other in common parlance; nobody talks about "doing" business philosophy, any more than they talk about "philosophical answers" to questions. Philosophy as a process is dismissed as irrelevant (questions that can't be answered); philosophy as a result is a dogmatic basis for decision making. Once you have the latter, all the more need to dismiss the former!

This in itself is an interesting topic for discussion...but today I'm actually interested in the above as an example of an even more prevalent tendancy: the crystallization of dynamic processes into fixed objects or results. Terry Eagleton has already noted this same phenomenon with respect to "-ologies":
There is a peculiar feature about words that end in 'ology'; '-ology' means the science or study of some phenomenon; but by a curious process of inversion 'ology' words often end up meaning the phenomenon studied rather than the systematic knowledge of it. Thus 'methodology' means the study of method, but is commonly used nowadays to mean method itself. To say you are examining Max Weber's methodology probably means you are considering the methods he uses, rather than his ideas about them. To say that human biology is not adapted to large doses of carbon monoxide means that our bodies are not so adapted, not the study of them. 'The geology of Peru' can refer to the physical features of that country as much as to the scientific examinations of them. And the American tourist who remarked to a friend of mine on the 'wonderful ecology' of the West of Ireland just meant that the scenery was beautiful. (63)
Furthermore, etymology is helpful here in at least allowing us to see that this is a process of transformation, and not simply a bunch of words that happen to simultaneously mean more than one thing; -ology is from the Greek logos, which--as Eagleton mentions--refers to a study, discourse, or organization of something; hence the process, the discipline of study, is the primary meaning, with the sedimented "object" meaning following sometime after. Similarly, the word philosophy comes from the Greek words philein and sofia, literally meaning "the love or pursuit of wisdom"; philosophy as a pursuit is the primary meaning, to which philosophy as an already-attained 'wisdom' is an appended definition.

Larger implications, briefly considered... )
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Knowing is Half the Battle [Feb. 5th, 2009|09:03 am]
[mood | awake]
[music |Sinead O'Connor, "I Am Stretched On Your Grave"]

Men. And how will you enquire, Socrates, into that which you do not know? What will you put forth as the subject of enquiry? And if you find what you want, how will you ever know that this is the thing which you did not know?

Soc. I know, Meno, what you mean; but just see what a tiresome dispute you are introducing. You argue that man cannot enquire either about that which he knows, or about that which he does not know; for if he knows, he has no need to enquire; and if not, he cannot; for he does not know the, very subject about which he is to enquire.
--Plato, Meno
While I have always been among those who thought Socrates' solution to Meno's paradox was unsatisfying (more on this in a moment), I am yet convinced that the paradox itself is essentially correct. That is: when dealing with theoretical knowledge of reality, (a) there is no self-obvious place to begin, nor any "facts" simply waiting to be used; and (b) there is no way of knowing--even should we arrive at "the right" theory--that we have found what we are looking for.

But of course, Meno offers up this paradox in an attempt to bring the conversation to a halt (a Samson strategy; if Meno can't win the conversation, he'll pull down the pillars and take Socrates with him...), and Socrates is right to deny the implications Meno draws from the paradox. We can of course inquire into that which we do not know; indeed, we must. However, the paradox would seem to limit us to only two types of response.

Aufhebung )
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Yogis of the World, Unite! [Feb. 3rd, 2009|05:38 pm]
[mood | rushed]
[music |Duran Duran, "A View to a Kill"]

What we have been seeing for the last thirty years or so, those huge music halls where the music can never be deafening enough, inevitably brings to mind those states of near trance, of loss of identity, a lack of differentiation, attempting to reach beyond signification. People live in the instant, feel penetrated by the music, the sheer amount of decibels is a sort of real violation of one's physical integrity, bodies mix in a diffuse sexual encounter, joints circulate--but that is not important. These are all things on which to lean, through which to return to a situation that seems to achieve a total meaning and at the same time precedes any articulated meaning. . . . [A]ttempts to do Oriental meditation are very much the same thing in indivuduals who despair in this depersonalized, privatized Western world.
--C. Castoriadis, "Psyche and Education," in Figures of the Thinkable (170-1)
In its original form, yoga was developed within Hinduism as a practice directed toward the attainment of Enlightenment; it thus involved a project of self-mastery, surrender to God, and world-withdrawl, directed toward the realization that the world is illusion, and that self and Other (atman and brahman) are ultimately the same. In other words, we can see the basic structure of stoicism, and we can roughly characterize yoga in its original form as a manifestation of what Hegel calls the Unhappy Consciousness. Note that this term need not imply that yoga is--or ever was--a morose or depressed practice; the yogic ideal of transcendence as the dissolution of self within the love of Krishna still amounts to the renounciation of the physical world in favor of an eternal, transcendent, perfect world of spirit. And the renounciation of the world as illusion or "sport" is still a stoic project, no matter how couched in the terms of love, joy, or kundalini.

Thus, in its original form, yoga was essentially an apolitical project--that is, essentially unconcerned with questions of social justice, democracy, economy, etc. This is not to say that yoga--or any apolitical lifestyle--has no political ramifications; quite the opposite! But, while we might characterize the effects of such a practice as politically regressive, we would have to call the project itself apolitical, and even antipolitical.

However, as yoga has migrated to--and gained in popularity within--the Western world, and most especially America, over the last few decades, two major "hybrid" strands of yoga have emerged. The first is what we might call "yoga as exercise routine"; that is, a yogic practice cut away from its metaphysical context, and offered to Westerners as yet another fitness program. This strand preserves the essentially apolitical nature of yoga, but in such a way that it no longer carries with it a message of asceticism. Indeed, within a First World capitalist economy, yoga's original ascetic practice would necessarily take on a politically critical character, and we can understand the "exercise routine" approach as a necessary step to maintain yoga's apolitical orientation. Furthermore, this strand of yoga is not limited to the "yoga light" classes offered at most gyms; the yoga classes we find at many yoga studios, which boil the Hindu philosophy down to empty, warmed-over hippie spiritual expressions ("love for the universe"; "finding your inner goddess"; etc.) are still largely of this kind. The spiritualism-light offered in such contexts is yet another manifestation of Western "apolitical" ideology; a response to modern alienation through regressive withdrawl into the Unhappy Consciousness, albeit in such a way that the capitalist economy of desire can still function.

The second--and more interesting--hybrid form of yoga to emerge, however, is somewhat different. Instead of simply divorcing yoga from any explicit metaphysics, there have been several attempts to essentially recreate yoga within a Western context. The result has tended to change yoga from a practice of world withdrawl into a practice of world engagement.

American yoga and political commitment )
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Hackers and Philosophers [Jan. 6th, 2009|12:01 pm]
[mood | sick]
[music |David Bowie, "Little Wonder"]

Why, anybody can have a brain. That's a very mediocre commodity. Every pusillanimous creature that crawls on the Earth or slinks through slimy seas has a brain. Back where I come from, we have universities, seats of great learning, where men go to become great thinkers. And when they come out, they think deep thoughts and with no more brains than you have. But they have one thing you haven't got: a diploma.
--The Wizard of Oz (as portrayed by Frank Morgan)
Our society has very few public intellectuals. I have long lamented this fact, but I should be careful to immediately add that this does not mean that our society has few intellectuals at all; a public intellectual is not simply an intellectual, but an intellectual able to gain public access--an intellectual to whom the public wants (is willing?) to listen.

As a sociological overgeneralization, we could say that, in any society, the public intellectuals tend to come from the dominant intellectual field in that society. And so, in the Enlightenment, the public intellectuals were philosophers, scientists, and authors. ("And" in this case is a true conjunction: Enlightenment public intellectuals tended to be all of the above, not simply any one of the above...) America, over at least the last sixty years, has been a society dominated by the sciences; our public intellectuals--few and far between, to be sure--have thus followed suit. (Noam Chomsky might seem like the obvious counterexample; and yet, remember, his actual "field" is linguistics!) In the mid-twentieth century, physics was the dominant field; and so our public intellectuals were people like Richard P. Feynman, Albert Einstein, and--to a lesser extent--Stephen Hawking. Over the last thirty years or so, physics has been slowly eclipsed by biology within the hard sciences; and so our more recent public intellectuals have been people like Richard Dawkins. (Yes--I know, he's British. And yet his popularity is not constrained to the British Isles; in an age when America is outsourcing so much of its labor, should we be at all surprised that we're outsourcing our public intellectuals as well?)

While biology has certainly not yet been knocked from its position of dominance, especially within the inner circile of "hard sciences," there is a newer trend in America over the last ten years or so: More and more of our (still very few in number!) public intellectuals are hailing from the field(s) of computer science. Witness last year's best-selling "The Last Lecture," a guide to life, the universe, and everything by Randy Pausch, a computer science professor at Carnegie Mellon. The latest--for me, anyway--in this new trend is Paul Graham, programmer/venture capitalist (founder of Viaweb) and essayist-at-large.

The Epistles of Saint Paul )
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Beat on the Brat [Jan. 4th, 2009|10:49 pm]
[mood | rejuvenated]
[music |The Clash, "The Guns of Brixton"]

There's an old rhetorical trick apologists of capitalism like to use: blame the poor for their own poverty. Poor people are lazy. Poor people are stupid. Or both. This blame-the-victim approach is a perennial favorite, and is constantly cropping up in new forms. Plenty of people have taken it upon themselves to answer this charge, especially in its straightforwardly economic form. But I'd like to take a moment to look at another version of what I think is the same basic argument.

Even those of you who don't believe the statement "poor people are poor because they're lazy" might still believe it in this form: "Poor students are (academically) poor because they are lazy." It will seem that we have slipped into metaphor. It will seem as if I am equivocating. Economic poverty isn't the same thing as academic poverty, after all. But does this make the argument any more valid?

Of Kant and Critical Pedagogy )
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"Alone in a Darkened Room..." [Nov. 26th, 2008|02:22 am]
[mood | working]
[music |P.I.L.: "This Is Not A Love Song"]

I saw Twilight today (and my guess was correct: it was me and a bunch of high school girls in the audience...). What follows, by and large, is not a review; I'm rather interested in thinking about the role of the vampire in pop consciousness. By way of review, I will say two things. First, the movie is fun, and not campy/cheesy in the way so many vampire movies are. Second, I find it interesting that the central relationship in an incredibly popular romance story should be so obsessional, even co-dependent. Perhaps an issue for another time.

What is most striking is the very fact of the movie: not a vampire story with a romance in it, but a romance story with a vampire in it. Further, look at the "monsters" themselves: No Buffy-style wumply foreheads here. No, and in fact, Stephenie Meyer's 'creatures of the night' not only get along just fine during the day, they only avoid sunlight because it makes them sparkle like diamonds. Yes: that classic foe of vampires, the sun, simply makes the vampires of Twilight more beautiful. We've come a long way since Bram Stoker's first description of the Count:

His face was a strong, a very strong, aquiline, with high bridge of the thin nose and peculiarly arched nostrils, with lofty domed forehead, and hair growing scantily round the temples but profusely elsewhere. His eyebrows were very massive, almost meeting over the nose, and with bushy hair that seemed to curl in its own profusion. The mouth, so far as I could see it under the heavy moustache, was fixed and rather cruel-looking, with peculiarly sharp white teeth. These protruded over the lips, whose remarkable ruddiness showed astonishing vitality in a man of his years. For the rest, his ears were pale, and at the tops extremely pointed. The chin was broad and strong, and the cheeks firm though thin. The general effect was one of extraordinary pallor.

Hitherto I had noticed the backs of his hands as they lay on his knees in the firelight, and they had seemed rather white and fine. But seeing them now close to me, I could not but notice that they were rather coarse, broad, with squat fingers. Strange to say, there were hairs in the centre of the palm. The nails were long and fine, and cut to a sharp point. As the Count leaned over me and his hands touched me, I could not repress a shudder. It may have been that his breath was rank, but a horrible feeling of nausea came over me, which, do what I would, I could not conceal.
Stoker's Dracula is strange and nauseating--a tone which carries through all early popular depictions of vampires. Meyer's vampires may be a little more "sparkly" than their contemporaries, but their beauty is by this point nothing out of the ordinary: be it Angel or Spike, Louis or Lestat, Bill or Blade, Dracula or...well...Dracula, today the "sexy vampire" has become the standard. So what happened?

We want no proofs. We ask none to believe us! )
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Teaching Philosophy I: Reading 1.0 vs. Reading 2.0 [Oct. 19th, 2008|01:49 am]
[mood | busy]
[music |Gang of Four: "Natural's Not In It"]

In The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams tells the story of programmers who create an amazing supercomputer, Deep Thought (the second greatest computer of all time and space...), to calculate and reveal to them the "ultimate answer to life, the universe, and everything." Deep Thought takes 7.5 million years to calculate the answer, but then finally makes his long-awaited proclaimation: The ultimate answer to life, the universe, and everything is...42.

The programmers (well, their distant descendants...) feel--perhaps justly--confused and irate: The answer "42" makes no sense.

Of course not, Deep Thought tells them; they don't have the question for which this "ultimate answer" makes sense. And so, naturally, the programmers ask Deep Thought: Can it reveal to them the question, for which "42" is the answer?

No, Deep Thought declares: it isn't nearly powerful enough. However, it can design a bigger, better computer for them, one which will eventually produce the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything.

Those familiar with the five-book-trilogy know where the story goes from here: The supercomputer designed by Deep Thought is the planet Earth, which--after a small setback, and under the watchful eye of the mice--takes 10 million years to run the program which will produce the question, only to be destroyed by the Vogons five minutes before successful completion. But in this story are two aspects which might help us to think about reading philosophy:

1. "The Answer" is no good if you don't know which question it answers.
2. "The Question" can actually be harder to find than "The Answer."

How To Read )
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The Hero Takes a Fall [Sep. 13th, 2008|01:22 am]
[mood | disappointed]
[music |Pattern Is Movement: "Bird"]

I received my copy of Huston Smith's The World's Religions as a freshman in high school; it was required reading for Flex, the amazing four-year humanities course I took all through high school. I've had that same copy ever since; over the years, it's been a book I've continually come back to--not only to re-read it, but also assigning portions of it to my students (in both Introduction to Philosophy courses and a Philosophy of Religion course I taught). For a while in college, I even made a challenge of working a Huston Smith quote into every paper I wrote, no matter the topic. It's not simply that I enjoyed the book; it was Huston Smith himself, his approach to religions and "our wisdom traditions," that really spoke to me: Here was someone who said, we can approach the various world religions as an area of open, scholarly inquiry, as seekers of truth, without necessarily making religion an object either of scorn or reverance, nor simply reducing it to the status of "literature." At the tender age of fifteen, Smith was a powerful influence to temper my raging, indignant, crusading atheism with the calm voice of rational inquiry, helping in no small part to funnel my knee-jerk skepticism into the critical consciousness of a philosopher.

The Breaking of the Fellowship )
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Change We Can (Make-)Believe In [Jul. 13th, 2008|09:24 pm]
[mood | working]
[music |The Cure: "Faith"]



All that can be said with some certainty is that an arithmetical majority on the Left at the ballot-box and, with it, constitutional legitimacy is no guarantee of either the power or the 'right' to govern--as the murder of Chile yesterday, the agony of Nicaragua today, bear witness.
--Gregory Elliot, Althusser: The Detour of Theory

Obama's response to critics after a recent spate of conservative kow-towing has been interesting: “Look, let me talk about the broader issue, this whole notion that I am shifting to the center. The people who say this apparently haven’t been listening to me.” Of course, Obama follows up truth with half-truth, adding, “I am someone who is no doubt progressive.” The quote comes from a speech intended to defend his 'progressive' status--which reminds me of something Terry Eagleton once wrote about Stanley Fish: "It is one of the minor symptoms of the mental decline of the United States that Stanley Fish [or Barack Obama--or the Democrat party, for that matter] is thought to be on the Left....In a nation so politically addled that 'liberal' can mean 'state-interventionist' and 'libertarianism' letting the poor die on the streets, this is perhaps not wholly unpredictable." Which is to say: Obama is exactly right when he says that anyone who thinks he's "suddenly shifting to the Center" hasn't been listening to him. But it's not--as he himself suggests--because he's still fighting the good, progressive fight. Rather, it's because he's still as progressive as he's ever been; that is to say, he's been in the Center all along.

Certainly though, it's been a hard week or two for Obama's faithful--or at least those among his faithful who harbor dreams of "change," "hope," etc. His support of FISA--which passed in what can only be called a landslide vote in the Democratically-controlled Senate--is hard to defend as anything but a complete volte face. And his positive comments on the recent Supreme Court ruling overturning the DC gun ban, coupled with his public disagreement with the Supreme Court ruling against executing child rapists, both certainly smack of playing to the reactionary Right. (In fairness, however, Obama guards his position on capital punishment with essentially the correct caveat: "At the same time," the above-cited Caucus blog notes, "he said the system of death penalty justice was so flawed that the nation should declare a moratorium on executions, such as that imposed in Illinois by Republican Gov. George Ryan.") So those who feel, in Joan Walsh's words, "betrayed by Obama" are not entirely wrong or naive.

If there is an up-side to this betrayal, however, it might be the beginning of an end to the "Democrat-as-progressive" fantasy that has driven the Democrat-Left electoral alliance since the late 40s. In large part, this fantasy has been strengthened through hypotheticals and missed-encounters: "If only JFK hadn't been assasinated..." "If only Robert Kennedy hadn't been assasinated..." "If only George McGovern hadn't lost to Nixon..." Like Zizek's assessment of the Soviet Invasion and the end of the Hungarian Spring, in each case an outside intervention can be used to sustain the fantasy. I would have gotten away with it, if it weren't for you snooping kids... Already in the Obama disillusionment-fallout, one can sense the sneaking suspicion that Emma Goldman was right: "If voting changed anything, they'd make it illegal." (Or, who was it who put it this way: "No matter who wins, the government gets elected.") An Obama presidency--and the full-scale demonstration of what "Change" really means to the Democrat party--might be exactly what Leftist politics needs...

...That said, there is another fantasy that we ought to be on the lookout for: Ron Paul (who, I note, didn't vote on FISA...). The neo-con "outside intervention" here may serve to preserve the Ron Paul fantasy as an option for disillusioned Obama supporters; already, there have been moves in this direction as part of the Pelosi-disillusionment fallout. And Libertarians like Lew Rockwell are playing right to this crowd: "If only the prophetic and courageous Ron Paul were running as an independent. People are ready for real change. As Tweedledee and Tweedldum struggle for power, with almost exactly the same program, Ron could be making History. It wasn't right for him, he felt, and given his political skills, that has to be determinative. And yet, if only..." Libertarians are slowly positioning themselves as "a not-so-lunatic fringe." My gut feeling here is that the best Leftist strategy over the next few years may amount to the election of Barack Obama, coupled with the engaged struggle against Libertarianism as a viable option for disillusioned progressives as the Obama White House makes one "compromise" after another.
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Quick Shot: Undead, Undead, Undead! [Jul. 9th, 2008|01:26 am]
[mood | melancholy]
[music |The Ting Tings: "That's Not My Name"]

We never believe that someone is dead; we know that they are dead...but we do not believe it.

In September of 1977, Time magazine ran an article on The New Philosophers (la nouveaux philosophes), "a group of young intellectuals, most of them lapsed Marxists." The cover in America for that issue showed a cartoon house suspended in the air, for a cover story on rising housing prices (tagline: "Sky-High Housing: Building Up, Prices Up"), but the European edition made the New Philosophers article the cover story, with the tagline "Marx is Dead." Less than a year later, in-fighting among the groups of France's Union of the Left (along with some good old fashioned sabotage by the leaders of the PCF) saw a landslide--and, for most, unthinkably unexpected--defeat of the left at the polls, and France joined Britain and the United States in the political slide to the far Right leading into the 80s.

It was, to be sure, not the first time Marx had (very publicly) 'died'; nor, certainly, would it be the last. In fact, we can mark the passage of the last half-century of political struggles by the recurrent deaths of Karl Marx--the Kenny McCormick of Leftist politics: 1956; 1968; 1975-1980; 1989-1991; etc. Perhaps Derrida is right to invoke ghosts when talking about Marx; Marx is dead, but keeps returning like the specter haunting Europe that he spent his life championing. Is the Left being haunted? Do we need an exorcism--or the Ghostbusters?

...but could there be another explanation?

...Who you gonna' call? )
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