19 Aug 2007

Postmodernist bollocks...

So there I am thinking about ‘mixedness’ and suchlike and I come across this:


Second article in http://www.philosophypathways.com/newsletter/issue126.html

Western Philosophy and ethical systems devised within it, have practiced a methodology of systematic foundationalism. In other words, consequences and corollaries are developed and deduced from founding first principles constituting a closed, reflexive system. As phenomena are categorised and judged from within such epistemological and ontological monoliths, 'Identity' and 'Sameness' are practiced. The system is total in its explanation and account of phenomena -- hence Levinas' term, 'Totalisation'. Whatever is within the system is legitimate because defined by and identical with it. Whatever is outside the system is either incorporated into it (thus repressing its otherness and extending the violent sameness of the same) or is denied any existence whatsoever.

Existing ethics such as Immanuel Kant's Deontology[4] and Jeremy Bentham's Utilitarianism[5] operate totalisation. Kant's defence of the individual as an end in itself intrinsically deserving of autonomy and respect, practices a totalising sameness of the same in its emphasis on rationality inherent to each and every individual. Utilitarianism treats the individual as an instrumental cog in the felicific calculation of the sum total of happiness. The individual qua individual is smothered and definitively pre-judged by prior existing categories. As such his/ her Otherness to the totalisation of sameness is deemed insignificant.


Although totalisation is unavoidable in its acting as an operational guide for everyday human interaction, it is subject to Transcendence. The Other founds the self and society as it is the primordial and original relation. It constitutes the beginning of everything human as it is only through the Other that I can become myself, so that the event of the Other marks the beginning of language, of community and of course, the beginning of ethics. The sheer presence of the Other is unavoidable: it demands my attention by charging into my world and disrupting it in a profound way that a rock or tree does not. Although established upon the revelation of the Other, subsequent culture smothers the Other under the edifices and categories of totalised sameness.

The Face of the Other is not a physical appearance but an Epi-Phany. This epiphanic event of irruption disrupts the sameness of the self and breaks its expectation of linear totalised categories of Being constituting the world. Its revelation demands a response and the nature of the ethical is to provide the appropriate response. This event is so profound it evokes an Infinity which from its exuding plenitude, overflows and transcends the existing representational structures of totalisation. For example, the presence and caress of a lover is such an instance of transcendence. We may use a word to thematise the event and those involved but the sheer presence of the Other, as lover, cannot be contained in a mere description as a theme or event. Overflowing mere conceptual representation, it transcends totality.

This event of the Other cannot -- on pain of being re-absorbed into the existing schemas of conceptual totalisation -- be represented. It is an event of such magnitude and height that it discloses 'signification without content'.

And much as I hate the way these postmodernists write, and keen as I am to dismiss it all as waffle and mystification, I can’t help noticing that I’m thinking, oh yeah, that’s what’s going on with this new obsession with mixed race identity. What is outside the system is being incorporated into it (thus repressing its otherness and extending the violent sameness of the same). So I have to look for what else one might do… um what’s an epiphany? “A sudden manifestation of the essence or meaning of something. A comprehension or perception of reality by means of a sudden intuitive realization.” The meaning of what though, God? Oneself perhaps? I’m not too sure, but it does seem to me a little that for society at large and for the individual who is mixed race, there is something threatening and dangerous in the undefined nature of mixedness which academics and politicians are trying to control and absorb into the pervasive sameness of the liberal democratic monoculture. These strange ‘others’ must be made part of ‘us’ in order to enter the ‘same’ moral framework. The CRE conference is a desperate attempt to cope with people who somehow fail to be part of the total scheme of things. But in this case, the ‘other, as lover’ is equally keen to be absorbed into the system. It is so hard to be the constant occasion of another’s transcendence.

18 Aug 2007

Graduation: a Question of Judgement.

The sizes of stones vary from the finest dust particle to enormous boulders. There is a machine which grades stones; it is like a sieve with a mesh which can be varied in size - say for building a road. The mesh size that separates sand from gravel, or gravel from pebbles is a social construction; it is arbitrary in relation to stone in the sense that the largest grain of sand is closer to the smallest piece of gravel than it is to the average grain of sand. Nevertheless, the grade is set to suit the purposes of the builder, and in relation to the builder it is not arbitrary but meaningful. No one is going to try and tell a builder that there are no such things as ‘sand’ and ‘gravel’ really, that they are just social constructions. Of course size isn’t everything, colour, hardness, chemical composition may be more significant for some purposes…

The grading of students at graduation is similarly arbitrary at the margin between, say a 2/2 and a 2/1. Students don’t divide into ‘natural’ kinds in this way, but academics find it useful and meaningful to make these distinctions as social constructions. There is an important difference from the case of stones though, that academics have themselves been through the grading process - 2/2s don’t generally ‘make the grade’ of becoming academic graders. It is as though sand itself decided what was gravel and what was sand, and gravel had no say in the matter. Academia constructs itself, or defines itself, by this recursive process.

‘Human nature’ is similarly constructed in a recursive way; the Catholic church, for instance, operates according to a ‘one cell rule’, where a fertilised egg is already human, whereas the legal position in this country is rather different. Where exactly we draw the boundaries of humanity is debatable, but whatever falls outside the boundary, has no say in the matter because ‘having a say’ is a human attribute - we do not ask chimps to comment! It seems that we have explored the limits of the world and established or decided that there are no debatable individuals as ‘races’ or ‘subspecies’. Yet we know that it could have been otherwise; Neanderthals could have survived for example, talking hairy apes might have been discovered.

The boundary of human nature is fundamental to morality in the sense that what is not human may be treated instrumentally - as an object, whereas what is human may not be so treated. This boundary has changed over time in this society, and indeed in academia. In particular, black Africans were excluded from humanity, and treated ‘like cattle’, as possessions. Women have also been excluded in this way - by the recursive process of self-definition, from that very process. We still have to remind ourselves occasionally, that ‘mankind’ includes women. It is tempting to believe that we can escape from this recursive self definition into an objective view of human nature, but my thesis is that this is impossible, and that recursive self definition is the defining feature of humanity. And there is no escape into vagueness available, because the boundary of what is human defines what it is acceptable to eat, to exploit, to have sexual relations with, etc. We cannot do without a clear distinction here. Whether one analyses philosophically or not, life decisions are continually being made on the basis of sameness and otherness, as to who/what one has to care about, take account of etc.

Ideas of Race are similar to, and closely involved with the idea of human nature; they are in a sense, (at least nowadays, and according to respectable opinion) subdivisions of ‘humanity’ and partake of the same features of recursion and arbitrariness. The one-drop rule sets an arbitrary limit on blackness; it is at the extreme end of the black/white spectrum, so that on one side the distinction is very fine (the finest sand) and on the side there are many variations (gravel, pebbles, great boulders). In South America there is a different grading system. But remember, the grader in this case, is also a stone and whatever mesh you are using, you have to jump through it too.

In this country, people do not generally eat dog or horse meat - horses are regarded almost as part of the family, human by association, and therefore taboo. Intellectual rigor gives way to ‘gut feeling’. It seems likely that notions of race are subject to similar non rational associations; what is familiar, close to me, similar to me, I am inclined to treat more respectfully. ‘Human’ always means ‘human like me’. If I could think of myself as an animal, and not morally distinguish ‘humanity’, I would, by my own definition, either be a vegetarian or a cannibal. There is an inevitable short-sightedness. If I am sand, I’m on the look out for other grains of sand, I know about sand and I am very good at discriminating. If I am gravel, I have a different point of view.

In matters of race the speaker has a (short-sighted) point of view, a race to be taken into account. When people say of other races, as they do, “they all look the same”, it’s human nature; for the qualities that are close to me are more meaningful than those that are far away. However you set your scales of difference and sameness, the chances are that you give yourself more importance. What is taken into account at the graduation of students is what is important to those who set the exams. And who is important, is who passes the exams, because who passes is who sets. And those same people, the leading thinkers, to a great extent also define the categories of thought, like race and human nature, which are the social constructs which construct society.

There is inevitably a question of power, here. Whose writ runs? The Judeo-Christian (white?) tradition has an origin mythology in which humanity is characterised by the fall from the state of nature into (self) knowledge and shame for the naked (animal) body. It is hardly surprising that the sight of Africans with different facial features, different hair, different skin, and above all shamelessly naked, would raise questions of human boundaries in the minds of the first Europeans to encounter them. Likewise, the Africans probably saw the white men as angels or ghosts. But whose writ runs? Who has the guns! The academic tradition has its roots in the monastic tradition, and follows the mythology to the extent at least of emphasising knowledge as being of primary significance in characterising human nature. The tradition long was that women were excluded from universities, and on the whole, they are still dominated by white males. And everyone ‘other’ has to prove their humanity first, before they even get to have a voice, leave alone a say, in what constitutes good, rational, human, thinking.

We like to think we have moved beyond all this now; we used to be racist and sexist individually and institutionally, but these days we are egalitarian and inclusive… but who is this ‘we’? The story is still being told by the white man, a black woman cannot subscribe to it. She would have to say that we used to be racially and sexually oppressed and excluded – and it looks like we still are.

10 Aug 2007

Identity again

The Undiscriminating Seagull

If you have come here from the CRE discussion on mixedness, you might be interested in one of the essays on the left. If from elsewhere, you can find my latest little gem here
And above is a picture of the seagull mentioned in the piece.
And if you come back in 6 months I might have put something else here. Your comments welcome here or there. The seagulls here have learned to fly over your shoulder from behind you and knock your ice cream or chips out of your hand. Once it's on the floor, they know you won't want it... but they really don't care about the colour of your skin. The grey/brown jobs in the background are the adolescents, who will doubtless learn from their elders soon enough, but at the moment are both timid and stupid.

9 Jan 2007

Writing Home - it's all about me!

I remember crying. I must have been six or seven when I read in the local rag that Purley, my hometown, was being amalgamated with Croydon, the next and bigger town. I felt the loss of something - my home - the separateness of it, the meaning of the name that was part of my identity - my home town. It hurt, and I remember crying. Now, I feel very little connection. Purley is a dreary middle-class sprawl, a characterless suburban nothing. I was born and brought up there, in that house look; you can just see it across the valley from the train. I used to always count the special brown and cream coaches of the Brighton Belle sitting at the kitchen table. I haven't been back in forty years, never wanted to.
When I was eleven I was sent to boarding school. We were supposed to write home at the weekend - that was the terrible thing about that school, all your life was supposed- I never had anything to say, except the thing I knew I wasn't supposed to say, which was "For God's sake get me out of this hell-hole''. School was no home, and home had sent me to school; I felt truly homeless, abandoned and alone. I ran away in the second term, terrified on unknown buses, travelling alone for the first time in my life, and eventually got back to the house. We had just moved - or rather they had just moved; I was at school - and I arrived late evening, dark, wet, and cold, in shock I suppose. All I could say was 'I didn't like it, so I came home...' standing in the living room, trying not to cry. They phoned the school, and took me back next day. My house-master had a little chat with me, and explained that I was just having a little adventure; nothing more would be said about it, on the understanding that it wouldn't happen again. So it didn't. What was the point, there was nowhere left to go. I've never really got over that time. I'm pretty much disconnected from my family; I've never felt really part of it since I suppose I'm a sort of refugee from the middle class and from the Home Counties.
I live in Wales as a foreigner and in a way I'm comfortable with that. It's a funny place, Wales; 'Welsh' is an English word meaning 'foreigner' and in some ways the place is defined negatively, as not being England. No one seems quite sure what it takes to be Welsh. You can be born here, live your life here, and still not quite fit in South Wales is another country to up here in the North; West Wales is more Welsh than the Marches (at least in the eyes of the West Welsh). Some people are, in their own words, 'Very Welsh'. Llandudno, where I live, is not Very Welsh, it's a tourist town and has been since it was built in Victorian times for presumably English holiday-makers. Even the time it was built is English - we appropriate everything in our arrogance. So even the locals are not altogether local for the most part, and in the season, there are all sorts come here, and all sorts are welcome if they have money to spend. Some people resent Llandudno as an English enclave in Wales, but although it's not entirely Welsh, it's not English either - there are too many churches and chapels for one thing. There's an air of nostalgia for a bygone age that probably never was, and a history that no one can quite lay claim to, from the Bronze Age Mines to the Alice in Wonderland Statue.
My favourite author, J. Krishnamurti, wrote that he felt at home everywhere. Feeling at home, he said, is feeling affection and feeling responsible for what is around you and what goes on. I have lived in other places, in Wales and elsewhere, and not felt like that, instead I've felt unwelcome, resented and an outsider. I'm very dependent on other people in that way, I think most of us are. Perhaps that's why I like to live here in a Victorian Wonderland, a foreigner in a foreign town in a country called foreign - I almost feel at home.