Easing Back In

I’ve had an odd aversion to blogging these past few months. A malaise that I cannot name—and can only partly blame on my back/sciatica problems. More a deep fatigue with the predictable channels in which my own thoughts run; nary a new thought to ponder or pursue. And also a deep disgust with the nation’s obsession with Trump. All eyes turned toward that clown, reporting his every twitch, and neglecting all other events, possibilities, and interests. Like every child who is acting out, he needs to be sent to his room, placed in isolation and ignored for however long it takes for us to regain our own life since I have no delusion that anything at this point can change his behavior. It’s our sanity that is at stake here, not his.

In any case, there have been some feeble stirrings of life in me lately. I went up to New York for the annual meeting of my political theory reading group. What a delight to spend a day talking with ten very thoughtful and intelligent people. Our common reading this year was Melville’s The Confidence Man, a dizzying text that pulls every rug from under the reader’s feet, providing nowhere to stand.

I may write more about the meeting later. But for now, two takeaways:

George Shulman noted that, if all appeals to transcendent and/or foundational grounds are taken away, then only comparative analysis is left. To which someone (I am sorry I can’t remember who) in the group added: “there is also the solidity of objects.”

I am still trying to decide if this is right. I think I understand the question: what can thought do, what resources does it have at its disposal, if it cannot locate/posit/affirm some indisputable ground or some transcendent standard for judgment? The two contenders seem to be Johnson’s “thus I refute Berkeley” (i.e. the solidity of objects) and a rough-and-ready ability to judge one of two states of affairs as preferable to the other (a favorite move of Rorty’s). The comparative mood can articulate the criteria along which it makes the comparative judgment; what it cannot do is claim those criteria must and will hold for all judgers. It can only “woo the consent”(to use Arendt’s translation of Kant on judgment) of those to whom its comparative judgment is addressed.

On the solidity of objects, we might go to Arendt on truth. There are facts beyond which we cannot get. We can argue about the causes of World War I forever, but if you say Belgium invaded Germany in 1914, we have no conversation at all. Facts are stubborn, even compelling in the strongest sense of the word “compelling.”

But is that it? I need to think more about whether that’s all.

Point number two was Jason Frank’s insistence that populism requires an enemy. Put that into dialogue with this comment from The Guardian about the British election.

“As someone pithier than me once said, you don’t win a culture war with facts. Heroes wanted. Conflict wanted. Goals wanted. Dreams wanted. Tell me a story I want to be part of.”

I like the story bit (of course)—and have been focused for some time on how we can tell an inclusive story. That’s why I resist the enemies notion, the idea that a “conflict is wanted.” Which may mean also wanting to find an alternative to a “culture war”—or any other kind of war. I don’t mean not having a choice. What I want is a choice between a conflictual tale and a non-violent, embracing story.

Classic weak-kneed liberal, in one way. Denial of fundamental divergence of interests and of the fact that the powerful and wealthy will not surrender their power and wealth without the fight that forces them to do so. But the idea is to have that fight at the ballot box and for the powerful and wealthy to accept their defeat as legitimate when it is enacted through democratic means. Don’t be naïve, the radical responds. There is no democratic process; the game is rigged in favors of the haves. And, in addition, there is no political passion, no motive strong enough to move people to action, without antagonism, without a “them” to fight against.

Let be fully naïve then. That position (with its Schmittian insistence on the necessity of “an enemy”) seems to me akin to saying the strongest political passion is hate—and only a politics that mobilizes hate will succeed. Whereas I am in search of a politics of love.

Pain

I spent the whole month of February hobbled by sciatica nerve pain. For two weeks I could neither walk nor sleep. The only position that was half-way comfortable was sitting down. Up all night, I watched every single romantic comedy on Netflix.

By the middle of March, I was 80% recovered–and am now at 90%. I actually did two back-to-back 30 mile bicycle rides last weekend.

Yet . . . . I can’t tell you how this has knocked the stuffing out of me. I haven’t been able to get back to blogging (obviously) or to much of anything else. For the first time, I just feel old. Which not only means tired and de-energized, but also disinterested.

I have still been reading a fair amount–and all over the map as usual. From William Carlos Williams to a biography of Alexis de Tocqueville. But I feel no urge to write my reactions up, as if taking part in some ongoing conversation (even if it is a fantasized one) is no longer part of who I am. Makes me wonder if, all these years, I just felt a need to report to the world (again a fantasized audience), like any dutiful child: “see, look what I’ve done. I’ve read this and thought that.” And now I feel outside of that game.

Will it come back? I don’t know. I have agree to write a few brief pieces. And I am writing a self-help book for aspiring actors with Kiernan and Raven. We’ll see if anything comes of that project. The words still flow if I sit down at the keyboard. I just don’t feel any urgency about getting to the keyboard.

Newfield’s The Great Mistake: The Big Picture (2)

The second “macro” setting for the disinvestment in public education that Newfield highlights is the disconnect (since 1970) between rises in productivity and rises in wages. Since economic growth is driven primarily by two factors–increasing population and increasing productivity–the economy’s health is dependent on making workers more productive. At least in the years from 1940 to 1970, when workers became more productive, their additional contributions to the economic well-being were registered fairly directly in higher wages. And those higher wages tracked very closely with higher household incomes.

Continue reading “Newfield’s The Great Mistake: The Big Picture (2)” →

Dustin Howes (2)

I have been debating most of today as to whether I should publish this email exchange between me and Dustin from about 12 days ago. And now have decided to do so.

In response to the New Year’s letter that Dustin sent to a group of his friends and family members, I wrote the following note to him on January 10th.

Dear Dustin:

Thank you very much for your letter. I am going to be presumptuous here and respond in ways to which I am not entitled. But I thought you might be interested in my response to what you have to say.

My first thought was “what does happiness have to do with it”? And that led me to these thoughts. It seems to me that what you want for yourself is the full experience of having lived (even with the awful cards you have been dealt) and (this second part is crucial) of being able to record that experience. You are a writer. (Yes, you are a father, a teacher, an academic, etc. as well.) But you are most decidedly a writer. Experience doesn’t really count for you unless you can record it as well. You have always lived as someone who intends to drink life to the dregs. And what defines your current will to live, to keep living even under these conditions, is your ability to still reflect upon, still record in words, your experiences.  As long as you can do that, you are alive. And why would you not want to be alive? No reason at all.

Of course, the ongoing relationship with your children is also primary. What is presumptuous here is my speaking for your motives.  But, as I said, I thought you might find my reaction something to chew on–while you can ignore it completely if it is off base.

I am assuming there is physical fear. Certainly, in your shoes, I would be feeling a lot of physical fear. But what I admire is your mental courage, your determination to be true to your capacities for thought, reflection, for (essentially) consciousness. You are determined to be fully present to your life, to see it straight, and to record what you see.  That strikes me as the right way to be in your circumstances–and as tremendously admirable because so hard to do.  May the force be with you. And do call on me–as you call on your various friends and family–to do what we can to make you remain true to your hard and admirable choice.

With love,

John

To which Dustin replied a few hours later:

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