Showing posts with label Post-structuralism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Post-structuralism. Show all posts

Sunday, June 29, 2008

Philosophy Not Blind Without History

History is empty without philosophy, and philosophy is blind without history.

This is the conventional wisdom passed down to us from professional social scientist Imre Lakatos, though the quip has its origins with Immanuel Kant. If you pick up a book like The History of Philosophy and Social Science by Scott Gordon, you are treated with a series of historical vignettes from the annals of philosophy and social science, and then in the last chapter are told that all this needs a bit of philosophy of science to go along with it.

These conventions are sincerely biased. Philosophy does not need history to organize a philosophy of science. History in this regard only teaches us what we (or rather, the scientists) could lose if our 'philosophy of science' is not compatible with contemporary science. It only serves to foster an encouraging attitude toward the scientific project. Why should anyone seriously questioning the conventions of human knowledge (ex.g. a philosopher) care whether there is a history worth losing when discussing a proper philosophy of science?

I don't mean to suggest philosophy of science is a-historical. It should understand these histories, but not in the way that scientific discourse understand them. But philosophers so often propagate the scientific meta-narrative. They have succumbed to a crusader-style message of man's liberation from ignorance to definite knowledge, the meta-narrative of all your science textbooks and what dominates scientific discourse. Scientists themselves rarely understand these things. And philosophers, all too often trying to be like the scientist, end up explaining these histories in the same way the scientist understands them. Scientists and scientific philosophers may doubt the findings in a particular article or study, yet the overall narrative is imbibed to them, and becomes the thing that informs all their work but is hardly understood.

But these are not very profound philosophers. They are more interested in preserving a scientific integrity, an explanation for what science has already got, and wants to keep and ordain this with theoretical commentary.

So often with the maxim, quoted above, scientists and scientific philosophers couple their work with references only to those philosophers who argued for the empirically paradigmatic and dogmatic teachings of the discipline. So many explain the nihilism away with something they call "pragmatism" and this is surely nonsense. Pragmatism can never explain how anything is ever justified for our belief in it, only that it would be appropriate to accept it as true given some social, religious, economic, or other preferential bias. And science, I think it is fair to say of all sciences, was dyed-in-the-wool pragmatist even before the American pragmatist revolution got on its way.

So philosophy is not blind without the history of science. And what about science being "empty" without philosophy? Perhaps science and philosophy are simply incompatible. I say that because, though I am familiar of trends in philosophy which encourage science, the snake of philosophy is ultimately unsatisfied by the scientific epistemology, and will never be. Science will still be empty even after much philosophical treatment because it cannot mitigate the harsh poisons of the snake's bite. This eagerness of philosophers to work around the snake bite, to clean up all the wounds and treat it with oils and bandages, is only a treatment of symptoms.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

You There in Hyperborea

One of my friends was looking over my entries and the links on my blog roll and she said we were all too aloof and dry. She does not see a Dionysian-Apollonian synthesis with all the wordy things we're doing in hyperblog land, this blog included. Maybe she's right; after all, she's a free-spirited intelligent person. Perhaps she's suggesting we blog-while-drunk more to exercise the spirits. (This would be fun, and potentially revealing.)

Whatever I write from the mountaintop in Hyperborea can come off too condescending or over-intellectualized, but I don't think I should care. I said we're all people who enjoy fleshing out ideas in writing and creative expression. The impression she had was that we're showing off how trendily postmodern we are and expecting admiration for it. "Intellectual self-indulgence," she said.

Maybe she's right to some degree, but I think whatever we do now is postmodern. It's the age we live in, the postmodern era, and the problems are not just trends. If the only way we can address them is by becoming Hyperboreans, very well, then! becoming Hyperborean is a rite of passage. There are too many misconceptions about us though, and it is for that reason Hyperborea is inhabited by the rarest people. "Perhaps not one of them is yet alive," wrote Nietzsche.

Sunday, February 10, 2008

Books, Words, Memes

Baudrillard's Bastard tagged me in the following exercise:

1. Pick up the nearest book ( of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.


The nearest book to me is Zizek's Lacan - The Silent Partners and the fifth sentence on p. 123 is all the way at the bottom since the page seems to be comprised of exactly five and a half long sentences.


"Although it is essentially mixed and equivocal, as we will see, this theory can be considered an important touchstone not only for Badiou's Theory of the Subject but even more so for his recent unpublished seminars on the same topic which are being reworked for Logic of Worlds -- not to forget Lacan's own theory of the four discourses which he begins to elaborate in his seminars right after May '68 , from The Obverse of Psychoanalysis until its last version in Encore: the master's discourse, the hysteric's discourse, the university discourse, and the analyst's discourse."

It's worth pointing out that this book is a reader that Zizek edited. So this quote is from an article that Bruno Bosteels wrote titled Alain Badiou's Theory of the Subject: The Recommencement of Dialectical Materialism. The thesis of Zizek's book as a whole is that Lacan had many theorists whom he held secret (or "silent") alliances with, such as Nietzsche, Kafka, and the student activists of May 1968.

This is the part where I select five others. How about,
  1. The Poet
  2. The Artist
  3. The Misanthrope
  4. The Fragmentalist
  5. The Citationist

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Why is Kant so Suicidal?

If we look at this chart by Ben-Ami Scharfstein which compares all the important philosophers of the West and compares them in terms of how suicidal they were, we see that Kant above all the rest is immensely suicidal. He's a hypochondriac; he's fearful of inherited illness; he's depressive; he never married and he's the most suicidal.

One philosopher not on the chart is Albert Camus, who, from reading the Le Myth de Sisyphe, we know that although he is completely absurd, is not in fact suicidal. Or at least proclaims not to be. There aren't any reasons for Camus to commit suicide and so he lives out reason's fundamental contradictions. On the other hand, Kant, whose Kritik der reinen Vernunft demonstrated the contradictions of reason, was nonetheless committed to the completeness of reason. I think Kant knew this was fallacious, as Gödel's incompleteness theorem in logic had shown in the 20th Century. There is no "royal road" onto which reason can create foundations for all the sciences, mathematics and logic. I think Kant knew his project was committing "philosophical suicide" as Camus said about it, eventually leading Kant himself to feel suicidal since his identity was based on such a grandiose project.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Globalistik Informatik Manifesto

We live in the Information Age, it is said, and yet information is not free.

Globalization has increased information and information networks. We are more aware of what is happening around the world.

There is now a sea of information.

Yet we are aware of this information only through specific organizations and aggregations of that information.

We rely on transnational advocacy groups, such as NGOs, IGOs and international media organizations to report concisely about what is happening, what has happened, and what global civil society makes of what happened.

Yet there are mounds of data sitting statically in databases which have not been tapped by the media, or by public interest groups.

There is publicly-funded data located in the United Nations, in universities, in governmental departments and bodies, in the national statistical agencies.

But the data is hidden; it's down in the databases. And it is not searchable on the web. These are barriers to free and public information.

This data is not free, and it needs to be. It is asymmetrical and it needs to be symmetrical.

Public viewers and media users exist, and the internet exists as a tool to tap this data, but we have not used our tools effectively.

As long as global civil society is paying for this data, it ought to be able to access it and search for it freely on the web.

There are organizations with public domains who are trying to do this. Gapminder.org, for example. But most of these domains are encrypted, password-protected, pricey, and filled with unorganized statistics. All of that aggregated information with sources from NGOs is not free information.

We have the databases; it's not new databases we need.

We have design tools, such as flash animations and other devices; it's not new designs we need.

There exists non-profit ventures which would like to link data with designs and aggregation tools; it's not new ventures we need.

There exists software which could potentially link the data together and animations which will liberate publicly funded data; it's not new software we need.

What is needed is a search function that will allow all the aggregate information to be searched in the public sphere.

This data can then be mapped and graphed with tools used to liberate information that already exists.

A massive search function like this is already available for government agencies in the United States, for example, within the DARPA and the NSA complex. This sort of technology is used to search and scale possible terrorist attacks through the tapping of vast amounts of data available on multiple databases.

This same function could be used to allow students and public interest groups to search, scale, map, and graph data from public-funded sources, like the United Nations, national statistics agencies, and so on.

Pressing concerns about human migratory patterns, refugee statuses, human trafficking operations, and various other international problems can easily be mapped, studied, and analyzed by internet users around the globe. But this data is not available to us. It has not been made searchable.

When this data is searchable, it can be tapped by web crawlers that will find that information and put it in the public sphere. This is what is needed.

The reason why this is important is that in an information society, information cannot be asymmetric. It must be free and symmetrical.

The data must be highly contextualized, it must be visible and analyzable by internet users from all angles and perspectives who wish to gain a deeper understanding of global politics through the information source that they fund themselves. We are calling for information symmetry and information democracy.

Free the information!

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

Pragmatism is Ultimately Not Useful

Aquinas said moral language is meaningless if it does not exist.

William James gave Aquinas' argument a pragmatic twist. He divided beliefs into live options and dead options. James criticized both kinds of religionist philosophers (atheist and theist) for being obsessed with dead options--issues that made no practical difference. James was an agnostic about God and free will, and also an agnostic about free will: he claims to have found good reasons for both free will and determinism.

He expresses his own indecision in a clever parable about a philosopher from Boston, where there were many philosophical clubs many years ago on a certain street. He couldn't decide whether to believe in free will or not. So he didn't know whether to join the Freewillers Association on one side of the street or the Determinist Society on the other side of the street. He decided to join the Determinist Society, so he knocked on the door for admission. The doorman said, "Why have you come here?" He replied, "I came of my own free will." The doorman, of course, slammed the door in his face. So he went across the street to the Freewillers Association and knocked on the door. The doorman asked the same question, and the philosopher replied, "They kicked me out across the street so I had no choice..." The doorman then slammed the door in his face and he found himself out in the street.

James said our ignorance leaves us free to choose to believe in either answer. And he advised us to choose belief in free will because that will make the best difference in our lives. It will make morality meaningful, and will make us personally responsible for our choices.

This strikes me as completely absurd. James' pragmatism is an appeasement to Aquinas' natural law theism and everything else about the past, God especially. Nothing makes any difference in our lives; it makes no real difference to us whether there is free will or not, James should have recognized this. Beliefs and desires themselves are objects of the will that make no sense to speak out neuro-psychologically. Propositional attitudes belong in the pantheon of useless, speechless, and quaint idols.

But no one had yet affirmed the kind of freedom that Sartre talked about, which is called metaphysical freedom. It's the freedom inherent in our radically unique mode of being, which Sartre calls "being for itself" as opposed to "being in itself". Being for itself--or human reality--he also calls "existence" as opposed to "essence."

Freedom is essentially Sartre's most crucial idea. His notion of freedom, which has no essential ethical consequences, is said by religionists to flows directly from his metaphysics. Putnam hadn't yet told us that ethics and metaphysics were not necessarily connected. Sartre assumed this was true as well.

The key idea in Sartrean metaphysics is that distinction between being in itself and being for itself. This is also the distinction between objects and subjects. Things and ideas on the one hand, and persons on the other. Things have essences and natures, which we can express in concepts. Persons do not. There is no such thing as a human nature or a human essence. Sartre says there is no human nature because there is no God to conceive it. Man creates his own values.

Nothing fundamentally justifies one set of values as opposed to another. Or one act over another. Our existence--our life--precedes our essence. Our mode of existence as subjects, not objects. Life is improvisation, and ethics is too. There are no objective values. Ethics does not give man dignity. Man is not an object, designed by God. So Sartre's metaphysical freedom gives man the kind of dignity which is rightfully his.

Theologians talk about freewill as if it comes from God, and that because God planned our their freedoms (contradictory) then man must be free. Sartre says man has freedom from the opposite perspective. Because there is no God, man is absolutely free. Humans are free, not just freedom from determination, but free from metaphysics and free from meaning.

Receiving anything is incompatible with being free. Whether that is nature, values, gifts or even love. There is no use talking about such a thing as a meaning of life. So this brings me to what I originally wanted to say about all this.

We generally fall back on pragmatism because it is useful in orienting ourselves in some socially-correct way that will get us to where we apparently want to go. Logicians like Quine fall back on pragmatism because language wouldn't make any sense without it. Others "use" it because it makes doing ethics much easier. But none of this makes any objective sense. There are no ends, truly. No ends that are justifiable against metaphysical freedom, that is. In other words, there is no reason, objectively, as to why "happiness" or anything else should be the proper end to any action or rule. We are, as Sartre said, ultimately free to choose our entire makeups, and these ends which pragmatism ultimately relies upon are basically absurd.

So pragmatism is ultimately not useful because it fails to justify the leap between uncertainty and certainty, between ignorance and knowledge, which cannot be justified anyway, if there are not objective standards by which to judge them. There are no shortcuts which pragmatism can provide since the "ends" to which it aims are metaphysically stupid and revolve ultimately around power and domination and ideology.

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

A Century of Heidegger

Almost the entire second half of the twentieth century continental philosophy is Heideggerian. Perhaps the other half is Wittgensteinian. I'd love for my generalizations to be correct, but they are probably good as far as generalizations go.

In general it's because Heidegger is so original and calls into question nearly all of traditional philosophy before him. Heidegger straddles Nietzsche and Kierkegaard, who were already calling into question, radically, traditional philosophy before them, and whether it made any sense. Heidegger is mostly starting from scratch, however. He understands Nietzsche and Kierkegaard very well and makes them systematic. Unlike them, he writes like a systematic philosopher.

There is something wrong with the entire tradition and something wrong with the traditional understandings of what it is to be a human being. If you understand what human being are and what theory is, traditional philosophy and science treats human beings as special, complicated objects. Which is entirely wrong. After all, scientism is simply one sort of human practice. One can have a theoretical understanding of human nature. But it makes no sense to do the human sciences this way: by this I mean anthropology, psychology, sociology, etc.

Cognitive sciences (cognitive psychology, cognitive politics, cognitive anthropology, etc.) have to be done completely differently. Their theoretical foundations are all wrong. If it looks anything like a statistical or computer model, it would be wrong-footed from Heidegger's point of view. Heidegger was opposing the whole idea of computer models before there were computer models.

This is why he is so important in Anglo-American philosophy, which takes the scientific/computer model completely for granted. But for Continental philosophy, Heideggerian theory is itself taken completely for granted. This is really the most amazing thought I have about Heidegger's place in contemporary philosophy.

Jean-Paul Sartre, of course, brilliantly misunderstood Being and Time. You have to be a kind of genius, like Sartre, to take a book that is wholly anti-Cartesian through-and-through and rewrite it as if it were a Cartesian book. Sartre would be the first to say that he is simply fixing up Heidegger. I really learned nothing at all about Heidegger from reading Sartre.

Another French philosopher, Merleau-Ponty, understood Heidegger as an anti-Cartesian. Heidegger really has nothing to say about perception or the body in Being and Time, and that's what Merleau-Ponty talks about, but hardly ever mentions Heidegger. He uses Heidegger ontology and Heidegger's terminology to open up a space to talk about what it is to be a human body which perceives things.

Boudieu made a reputation for himself by condemning Heidegger. Foucault said his main influence was Heidegger, but he made a reputation for himself by acting like he had never heard of Heidegger. Only on his deathbed did he say that he felt he was a Heideggerian.

And, in fact, I think I am a Heideggerian, in some sense. But I'm not going to talk about this here, or now, at least. Perhaps this is the start of a series on Heidegger, since I've been reading Being and Time (slowly), and I will therefore slowly reveal my thoughts on what it means to be human.

Monday, September 24, 2007

Begging the Basic Rights Question

Henry Shue in his book Basic Rights: Subsistence, Affluence, and U.S. Foreign Policy makes the peculiar claim that it would be self-defeating to say that one doesn't have basic rights, since they guarantee the order of other rights (which presumably follow). To deny basic rights, then, would be to pull the ground out from under one's rational basis for arguing for basic rights, since these more basic rights are the transitive telos in this hierarchical order Shue has going. We have basic rights, Shue says, in order to experience the "material substance" of other rights. I would like to point out that Henry Shue is quite obviously begging the question as to the rational basis for justified demands (which is his definition of "right"). Since basic rights--or moral rights, or legal rights--are necessary for positive rights to obtain, then Shue seems to think basic rights must be necessary. Yet no justification for basic rights is given, or even argued for. The existence of positive rights is used to persuade us that there must be moral rights justifiable due to this very contemporary scenario. The justification for basic rights, therefore, depends even more heavily on our intuitions and preferences about the positive rights themselves, which are much less justifiable without basic rights to begin with.

Pyrrhonism about ethical justifications is the only non self-defeating position to be in at this point. In every meta-ethical argument one must beg a question somewhere or insert an internalist assumption into the workings in order to arrive at a comfortable conclusion.

Thursday, August 09, 2007

"Still Life, with Casserole"

Such are some of the bizarre titles of still lifes in the Hamburg KunstHalle. In the old Academic system, the highest form of painting consisted of images of historical, Biblical or mythological significance, with still life subjects relegated to the very lowest order of artistic recognition. But once the impressionists and post-impressionists emphasized design over subject matter, however, the hierarchy was shattered. Van Gogh's Sunflowers are probably some of the best known still lifes. Cezanne also invented some geometrical versions of still life spatial organization.

All this seemed to make way for Picasso and the cubists, who painted things that look like still life collages. For example, Picasso's Still Life with Chair Caning (1912, left). Who can deny it? Georgia O'Keefe's still lifes (nasty, in my opinion) are within the same vein, and so are the photographs of Edward Weston. Indeed, even Andy Warhol's Campbell Soup Cans can be traced directly back to the 18th Century still lifes. Then the photorealism of the 70s fused the message of pop-art with the image of the commodity, like Warhol, but incorporated the old trompe l'oeil (trick of the eye) of the old masters. For example, like making a painting look like a bunch of paper scraps hanging on a wall. That was Edward Collier's invention. Some of the new works even paint on the frames, to make it look like the painting is coming out of the picture, or "Escaping Criticism", as one is cleverly titled.

One feminist, Audrey Flack, has used this technique to portray feminist color schemes, for example in her Marilyn Vanitas (1977, right). The whole business of painting still lifes is good for historians to laud over and discover the precious objects of the past. Especially for church historians in their search for religious subjects and artifacts. But they're all pretty boring. The have no "gravitas" like the other genres. All, that is, except the Vanitas still lifes, which project the idea that all is futility, all is meaningless, all is useless, for in the end we're all dead. The Dutch arists often painted skulls on top of a pile of books. This was exactly what King Solomon was saying in the Book of Ecclesiastes, "Vanitum vanitatum omnia vanitas". Rotten fruits (and casseroles) remind us that everything decays, everything ages. And bubbles are brief shots of air which are our short lives and sudden burstings into death. Smoke: hell. The hourglass: our short lives. In contrast to this, the silly Baroque kunstlers painted natural substances like rocks, or hot dogs. Or casseroles.

So every time I stand in front of an Jan van Eyck painting I basically get bored (or simply hungry, was not that the point?) and move away. Eyck is the kind of artist you buy cheaky calenders of and hang up in your crafts room (if you're a 40 year-old house wife) and don't want to reflect on your life.

Sunday, July 29, 2007

Adventurism and Personal Identity

Human adventure is a basic theme in literature and film, etc. It is the reason why tourists begin journeys in distant places. The drive towards an adventure, or the fantasy of adventure against an unforeseeable future, lures the believing into situations and places in search of answers, ideas, experiences and things of that sort. Adventure is an ideology. If we deconstruct the idea of personal identity, as Sartre or Deleuze has, anything that we use to help contribute to our sense of personal identity is a narrative fiction, an identity fiction. In Nausea, Sartre outlines at least five possible ways that Roquentin can find meaning in his life. One of the first that he tries is a life of radical adventurism, and it fails miserably. People and places change, and Sartre seems questions at a basic level what sort of value that really has.

Bernard Wilson has this theory about ethics as being something more akin to "moral luck", because in the future (only in the future) will you have known whether you had acted ethically or not. And so it is with adventure. At this very moment I'm having a kind of adventure. I'm sitting in an internet cafe/bar in Dresden, Saxony. The Neuestadt part of the city is a quasi-Bohemian place for shisha-smoking an all-night clubbing. And this is my ideology: exploring this city alone, or in the company of other hostelers and exchanging jokes, is a way of heightening my cultural awareness involving some degree of risk. At its core it is a veil of experiences to push away an existential emergency. But there's also something quite intriguing about the rapturous thrill of travel: something like getting so involved in one's own historical period, one's own place in history, but mixing it with another's. Tomorrow I will go to Chemnitz, the post-DDR city which used to be called Karl Marx City, in search for a changing culture. Far from pushing away existential emergencies, this activity seems to embrace it fully, asking for a kind of ideology that fits a changing planet (first communist, now capitalist) in a realistic way. Not all adventure is dishonesty.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Silence of the Narrative

Take a look at this article on Mashable.com that depicts places in the world where YouTube is banned. Currently only Iran and the UAE have bans, but just until recently Turkey censored the internet because of a video which insulted Ataturk as a homosexual and a belly-dancer. A Turkish user responded to the video by calling Greece the birthplace of homosexuality. The Kemalist State of Turkey then joined the chorus of military dictatorships such as Myanmar, and human rights black holes like China who also banned YouTube for criticizing its government. Turkey lifted its ban in March and Turk Telecom instantly renewed access to the site.

The EU Commission in Turkey stated in a meeting that one could not criticize a court ruling in Turkey, but at least the English gazette, Turkish Daily News, was able to bypass this. It said the courts were "trying to solve the problems of the 21st century with the methods of the 20th". It pointed out that the ban created a worldwide news story and resulted in the video collecting far more attention than if it had been ignored.

A post on Michelle Malkin's blog about the Turkey ban seemed favorable toward US Congress's House Anti-Terrorism Caucus actions to censor the internet (e.g. YouTube and LiveLeak) since it may be used to prevent videos created by "Jihadists" from widely circulating. Meanwhile, the US military has banned 13 sites like YouTube, Myspace, and Photobucket which slowdown military networks. The NYTimes has this report on insurgent propaganda on the net, and it seems the government is willing to limit civil liberties on the internet to combat any propaganda which aids terrorism.

YouTube's easily-manipulated terms of use seems to imply that its staff may remove any video they deem inappropriate for some users. Once a certain number of complaints is reached, a video must be pulled out. Since it is their property, perhaps one cannot complain, but I am very suspicious of those in the Pentagon who seek to silence the "Dhimmis" and "Jihadis" on YouTube by means of clandestine internet counter-terrorism. Lyotard wrote in The Postmodern Condition about the future instability of knowledge databanks and micro-narratives, which will be pursued and persecuted. The new wars will be fought with information, undoubtedly. And this means on the internet, where the Pentagon wages a war for the minds of the user. These narratives may co-exist in paralogy, Lyotard says, or be silenced and terrorized by more powerful narratives and language groups.

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

The Forgotten Genocide

Abdullah Gul, the AKP candidate from Turkey, flew to Washington to convince Condoleeza Rice and George Bush that there was never a genocide in Turkey. But historians around the world disagree. In the years the Young Turks were fighting the Great War, a decision was taken by the Ottoman government to deport the ethnic Armenians; over a million were murdered. And it is widely acknowledged to be the first modern genocide. Historians have found archived plans laid by the Young Turks in Constantinople that had the explicit aim of killing Turkey’s ethnic Armenians, and the sheer size of the death toll is evidence of a systematic effort by the government to permanently remove the Armenians.

Even though this is the second most-studied genocide in history, inside Turkey it is an offence to talk about the mass-slaughter of the Armenians. High school textbooks in Turkey dismissively denies the event. A number of writers have been prosecuted. An ethnic Armenian newspaper editor, Hrant Dink, was gunned down in January on his own doorstep in Istanbul. Elsewhere, it can be an offence to deny that this was a genocide. The UN Convention on Genocide considers this genocide. The International Association of Genocide Scholars formally recognize the Armenian Genocide and consider it to be undeniable. The French National Assembly recently passed a bill to this effect, and there is one before the American Congress, which Abdullah Gul is trying to curb. Its the Armenian Nuremberg all over again, and with laws like these flying around, whatever happened to free speech and the disinterested unearthing of historical truth?

Some argue that the reason why it wasn't designated as genocide after the War and the Paris Peace Conference of 1919 is that Adolf Hitler was influencing Western powers not to cover the event. Perhaps he had secretly planned in 1919 to exterminate millions of Jews thoughout Europe. In speeches before invading Poland and several speeches in 1943 (at the height of the Jewish extermination campaign) he refers several times to the Armenian massacre. He calls the Persians a bunch of Armenians because they didn't finish the job.

During some of the Turkish EU entry talks, several calls were made to consider this genocide. It was initially part of its conditions to join the EU, but that was dropped. The French have now made it illegal to deny that this is genocide. And as history unfolds, this wasn't the first time the Turks massacred Armenians. In 1896 nearly 300,000 were terrorized and murdered by the Turkish government. The Young Turks, the revolutionary rules who originated from secret societies of students and military cadets and overthrew the sultan, also murdered the same number of Pontic Greeks in the years following the Great War. The Turkish minister of war declared that they were going to "solve the Greek problem during the war... in the same way he believe[d] he solved the Armenian problem."

Here are a list of documentary films about the Armenian genocide. There is also significant trivia in the Wikipedia entry.

  • 1975 - The Forgotten Genocide (dir. J. Michael Hagopian)
  • 2003 - Germany and the Secret Genocide (dir. J. Michael Hagopian)
  • 2003 - Voices From the Lake: A Film About the Secret Genocide (dir. J. Michael Hagopian)
  • 2006 - The Armenian Genocide (dir. Andrew Goldberg)
  • 2006 - Armenian Revolt (dir. Marty Callaghan)
  • 2006 - Screamers (dir. Carla Garapedian)

Saturday, May 19, 2007

The Cult of Zizek

A few monikers for Zizek are: the one man philosophical army, the academic rock star, the Elvis of cultural theory, and simply "ZIZEK!"

I like this film a lot. Zeitgeist begins it radically enough: Zizek expounds that love, in the way it values one life over another, is the ultimate evil. It is for this type of shocking but subtly persuasive argument that Zizek has become famous within academic circles. Yet, his niche popularity has as much to do with his persona as his ideas. For those who have had the pleasure to see Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Zizek speak, the man is an abomination, or as he aptly states in the documentary, he is a "monster"--hairy, unkempt, his shirt drenched in perspiration. He works himself into the sweat as he makes his brilliant observations about everything from popular culture to the war on terror, and, in the process, he seems almost unable to control his own intellectual momentum, saliva flying from his rapidly moving lips. His fans, or the "idiots", as he calls them through his heavy Slovenian accent, cannot resist him.

Sunday, May 13, 2007

Toward a Postmodern Theory of Value--The Rehabilitation of Jean Baudrillard

In order to arrive at a radical reinterpretation of Baudrillard, it is not enough to unmask what is hidden behind the concept of a sign economy. It is not enough to examine the anthropology of needs and of use value. Just as Baudrillard’s project in The Mirror of Production was to unmask everything hidden behind the concepts of production, mode of production, productive forces, relations of production, etc., so our task must be to unmask everything hidden behind the concepts of sign, simulation and code. But we must also uncode the processes involved in simulacra. All of the fundamental concepts of Baudrillard’s analysis must be interpreted, starting from his own requirement of a radical transformation of Marxist transcendence of political economy, to arrive at a theory of value in the contemporary system of objects and the sign economy. A Baudrillardian theory of value would not attempt to explain the “use value” or the simple “exchange value” or prices of goods and services, but instead the inner workings of the code upon which consumers assign value to objects in the system.

Baudrillard’s analysis of the sign economy is incomplete in its treatment of value. It ends at the point where value cannot be determined individually, or from an individual’s point of view. At stake in this essay is the postmodern theory of value, and whether Baudrillard has made it hopeless for a postmodern study of exchange, a postmodern economics—a kind of Symbolic Exchange Studies—or whether his critique applies more to bourgeois “rational choice” models than theories of value.

A postmodern theory of value—situated in a postmodern simulated economy—is heavily influenced by external content. That is to say, value is not determined by individual needs and wants, but rather determined by other valued things external to the subjective desires of the individual. Where Baudrillard finds “the code” a stumbling block for theories of value, due to its dominating ability over individual needs and wants, we ought to say that it is foolishness not to push the theory further to a kind of anti-individualism which is popular elsewhere in postmodern theory—Deleuze and Gutarri, for example. A proper theory of value would be intersubjectivist in nature and anti-individualistic.

An intrinsic theory of value—which Marx, Mill, and Ricardo held—would simply not apply to the sign economy for obvious reasons. Signs do not have intrinsic worth; they are not necessarily produced by, or traced to, say, units of crystallized labor. Objects in a consumer society are signs, which principally obtain their value from other signs. In fact, we cannot speak about them as having been produced, because at best they are ‘pastiched’. We must speak about them as coded objects of desire, and how it is, then, that an economics of signs is possible. A utility theory of value will not work because, while this does explain the exchange values of signs, it is too individualistic, and it does not explain how and why signs are desired beyond a kind of productivist methodology. Lastly, a subjectivist theory of value will not hold with Baudrillard either, since it is still dependent upon the satisfaction of the individual consumer, and thus meaningless since the consumer choices are not his own. The utility and the subjectivist theories of value are the two most widely held theories today. Baudrillard excuses these as being “productivist” in their view of value. In fact, all the theories of value until Baudrillard’s are seen as mired in a kind productivist paradigm, even Marx’s.

As every encyclopedia reader knows, Marx believed in a labor theory of value.

But Marxism, Baudrillard said, is simply a mirror of “productivist” capitalism and as a “classical” mode of representation that purpose to mirror “the real”. Marxism never actually liberated itself form the productivist ideology of capitalism. This productivist ideology was a problem for the Left. Marxists have come to an “imaginary” understanding of production, labor, value, and their place in the world. The Marxian imagination speaks to what is wrong with life under capitalism—alienated labor, exploitation and so on—but provides a phantasy of a nonalienated labor, development of productive forces for human use, autonomous, worker-controlled, self-fulfilling labor, and dictatorship of the proletariat whereby workers control society and so forth. Yet the Marxian imagination is still too conservative and simply reproduces the primacy of production, which is itself a product of capitalism, and closes off what Baudrillard takes as more radical possibilities for liberation.

Baudrillard’s argument is that just as commodities were conceived by Marx as embodiments of certain quantities of abstract labor, which Marx calls “socially necessary labor time,” and just as exchange value is conceived by Marx as the embodiment of equivalents of determinate quantities of abstract labor time, so use values are determined by a logic of equivalence within the system of political economy. On this view, the socioeconomic system produces a system of objects with predefined uses which are as much a product of the system as objects themselves. Because capitalism and Marxism are rooted in the same logic of production, these systems are not able to conceptualize sign control, and thus rise only to the level of a general theory of contemporary society. For in theorizing about contemporary society, he says, it is a gigantic operation game of question and answer, and a gigantic combinatory where all values commutate and are exchanged according to their operational sign.

Modern societies are organized around the production and consumption of commodities, while postmodern societies are organized around simulation and the play of images and signs, denoting a situation in which codes, models, and signs are the organizing forms of a new social order where simulation rules. In the society of simulation, value is constructed by the appropriation of images, and codes and models determine how individuals perceive themselves and relate to other people. Economics, politics, social life, and culture are all governed by the mode of simulation, whereby codes and models determine how goods are consumed and used, politics unfold, culture is produced and consumed, and everyday life is lived. These pastiches of images are desired based on their sign value, which, paradoxically, only points to yet further signs.

So to the Marxian claims for the primacy of production and the mode of production, Baudrillard counters a concept of the “mode of signification,” which he claims is now prior to and more determinant than the mode of production and its laws, logic, and exigencies. In other words he claims that semiotic control takes place through the proliferation and dissemination of signs. Signification now operates according to its own logic and laws, and absorbed everything back into its system. No behavior can refer back to a particular use value or meaning for an individual, because all meaning and use value are prescribed in advance and circumscribed by the code. Consequently, the sign no longer designates anything at all. It approaches its true structural limit which is to refer only back to other signs. Consumers are only in the market for signs because the dominating superstructure which is constantly influencing them. All reality then becomes the place of semiurgical manipulation, of a structural simulation. Following the general line of critical Marxism, Baudrillard argues that the process of social homogenization, alienation, and exploitation constitutes a process of reification in commodities, technologies, and things (i.e., “objects”) come to dominate people (“subjects”) divesting them of their human qualities and capacities.

But something interesting has happened on the way to hyperreality. Baudrillard’s value theory became not only unfriendly towards any meaningful system of exchange, but it also became myopic in its diagnosis of objects and subjects. It would appear there is no non-question-begging answer to the question of value, since sign value is determined by the manipulation of the code—a code which distorts needs and therefore the value of signs. The code, however, would contain the answer to a genealogical investigation as to the “proper” value of signs. The code of symbolic exchanges, however, is not a genealogical project for Baudrillard. It is assumed that any investigation would be fruitless. Such a genealogy of value, however, would ultimately rest on productivist premises, tracing the accumulation of images to a “real” time when those images signified something “real”. That is not to say it would reveal a labor theory of value. A pastiche of signs, if the code was investigated, would reveal a pastiche of values accumulated by means of a subjectivist theory of value.

It would appear that Baudrillard is unable to articulate standpoints from which one can criticize capitalist society or present oppositional consumer politics—since in his view all consumption serves simply to integrate individuals into the system of needs and objects. Perhaps this is exactly where we ought to be. We are stuck in a kind of “ecstasy of communication” which means that we are in close proximity to instantaneous images and information, in an overexposed and transparent world. In other words, an individual in a postmodern world becomes merely an entity influenced by media, technological experience, and the hyperreal. But Baudrillard’s Saussurean semiotics stops at the level of the signs as commodity but does not apply to the individual, or the human subject who is in the market for signs. We ought to treat the individual as a sign, himself in the market for more signs. This is needed for two reasons:

1) Signs achieve their value by reflecting other signs. Human subjects in the simulacra market likewise achieve their ideas about values by other human subjects in the marketplace. That is to say, signs get their ideas about sign values from other signs.

2) The recursivity of sign play allows for genealogical investigations into the nature of sign value, or if that is not possible, allows the meaningful assignation of sign value in a kind of collective process.

This is all the more reason to favor a subjectivist theory of value. Even if we do not follow an investigation of the coded structure of our needs, we may still posit that our needs are based on subjective premises. Because we assume that “subjective” does not refer to the traditional rational choice model of the homo economicus (the rational man in a marketplace), we can say that, though values are ultimately assigned from the simulated marketplace, the individual is coterminous in this process. The individual is demanding something that his society is demanding of him. It is not the human subject in question, but rather to the media superstructure, which is assigning this value. This is only to say that value is circular, but not meaningless. This has also become an epistemological problem where it is not known to use whether needs come from the subject desiring or from the subject influencing.

In a sense, Baudrillard's work can be read as an account of a further stage of reification and social domination where individuals are controlled by ruling institutions and modes of thought. However, like a functionalist theory of language, value has been assigned to signs by a kind of external process. The content of the code is not individualistic—it is external. The code is achieved by layers of signs and ideologies, yet this active manipulation of signs is not equivalent to postulating an active human subject that could resist, redefine, or produce its own signs. It is also not equivalent to saying that the simulation marketplace is not collectively determining sign values, and thus Baudrillard fails to develop a genuine theory of agency. If we assume that the individual has imbibed this code, however, we ought to say that it is intersubjective nature and that it is anti-individualistic. Our postmodern theory of value would then stand in opposition to the petit bourgeois economics assuming individuals’ rational choices. While objects with sign value might refer only back to themselves, this sign value is assigned by the social subject. That is, it is assigned by the social bond. In that sense, it is inter-subjective.

For Marx, usefulness is a social construct, but for reasons different from Baudrillard. Use-value means that a thing is not intrinsically useful in itself. The only indication that a thing is “useful” is the fact that it is actually being used by somebody. It is socially contingent; it’s a matter of ever-shifting human needs and desires. For a sign to have value, it similarly requires a system of objects. It requires other signs to make it valuable. And it requires another system of signs for which it is valued by.

If Baudrillard is rehabilitated in this way, then he has given us a new theory of value, and a new theory of signification—both which resemble the Saussurean system of signs in reverse. It is almost anti-representational in nature. The theory of simulation holds that the ordering of the basic elements of signs, usually considered in terms of signified preceding the signifier, is now, in the postmodern society, reversed, such that the signifier, the image, the symbol, icon, and index, precedes the signified, the real basis of the sign. We live in a world where any concept of the real has been eroded. This, however, is not as problematic as it seems. This formulation of postmodernism, under a “strong” reading of Baudrillard, would still not entail the disintegration of the Saussurean concept of the sign. But without an intersubjective theory of value, we live in a world completely divorced from the real and containing only infinitely recursive simulacra.

Sarcasm and the Postmodern Sensibility

From a purely linguistic or grammatical point of view, we are doing two things at once when being sarcastic: we are communicating a message but at the same time we are framing the message with a metamessage that says something like, "I don't mean this: in fact, I mean the exact opposite." This metamessage makes sarcasm seem like a very abstract and a quintessentially "linguistic" activity, since when we use it, we are using language to talk not about the world but about itself.

Sarcasm is an ever-incipient (although never realized) grammatical category like the future tense or the subjunctive mood and has specific cues or grammatical markers which broadcast the message, "I mean the opposite of what I'm saying." Many languages do not have it. Its invocation, however, should not be viewed as a more sophisticated way of speaking, in the sense that it is more intelligent to say the opposite of what one means. Is it then even more intelligent to say the opposite of the opposite of what one means? We can be sarcastic for reasons other than being sophisticated. The mistake of the present age is that one has to be sarcastic in order to be appreciated as "sophisticated." But just as sarcasm means the opposite of what it says, it often gets the opposite of what it wants. Instead of appreciation, we receive resentment. This is because sarcasm and empathy are incompatible. If someone approaches you seeking empathy and you respond with sarcasm, then you have basically ripped them apart, which is why sarcasm in the original Greek means "torn flesh."

Some theorists have said that language is what defines humanity. (As opposed to those who say that rationality defines humanity.) Let's take that seriously for a moment: our language is the only demarcating quality which makes us human. Sophistication in language--linguistic devices such as irony and sarcasm--should then correlate with sophistication in human beings. But not all linguistic communities, not all human beings, have sarcasm.

"Well, we Americans can be sarcastic. So we must be fairly sophisticated."

What would a sophisticated culture look like without sarcasm, we might ask. Science fiction is an interesting exploration. Hardly any of the fictional sophisticated alien races, with the exception of K-paxians, use sarcasm as a linguistic device. Protoss do not. Bajorans do not. Not even Vulcans. Klingons such as Whorf are sometimes sarcastic. And Spock has at times been sarcastic, admittedly, but only as a result of having come into contact with morally decadent Federation cadets from San Fransisco. Was Gene Roddenbury secretly saying that the allegedly advanced alien races were not as sophisticated enough to have sarcasm? It is more likely that sophisticated alien races have advanced to a supersensibility in a post-postmodern age and have no interest in sarcasm. In fact Spock often comments that "human" sensibilities are strange to him, that he doesn't quite understand why we find our humor, that is, our sarcasm, so enlightening.

The quintessential contemporary "human" sensibility is flip, uncommitted, a question mark after every other sentence. To get their jokes, all Spock would have to do is exactly what they do--watch a lot of television, notice how sarcasm is portrayed by comedians and used in sitcoms. And notice the alienation and shallowness of affect which are the exclusive moral preserve of the present age. Sarcasm is so pervasive that its absence is misunderstood or judged as unsophisticated or worse, boring. If someone were to speak in the present age like Spock speaks, in a serious and unaffected way, we could not possibly take him seriously.

Seriousness is too original, thus unoriginal, and the cultural-linguistic buildup of 'serious content' results in sarcasm eventually. Let me explain how I think this works. Sarcasm cannot exist without prior, original content to reflect upon. If nothing had been said or done before, only original content is possible. The notion that the original linguistic content of some Cro-Magnon is somehow sarcastic, as in the comics of Gary Larson, strike us as humorous precisely because original content is not in fact sarcastic. It is basic content, with little or no humor. After original content has been exhausted, the experiences we reflect upon eventually become trite, and then eventually sarcastic.

The relevant postmodern slogan is "it's all been done before." That there is no new thing (including postmodernism itself) under the sun--and that this is somehow regrettable--is older than postmodernism, older even than King Solomon of Ecclesiastes and has been held by all manners of people at various times. The world is now so old, everything has been said already, and our culture is too late for original content. Even the poets are horrified that they can only find new ways of expressing the poetry of older, more defunct poets.

Our postmodern sensibility discovered that originality is only possible in style, not content. If what I say has been very likely said before, then my insincerity is the greatest device for new and creative conversation. It says, "I'm not actually committed to the words I'm saying. I'm only joking when I say them." Like an actor on a stage, I am painfully conscious of merely repeating someone else's lines, playing a role. If I live in such a world, then possibly the only means I have available to express my superiority to the cliches which I find myself constantly spouting is to utter them in parody, that is, sarcastically.

It's been said before--which should come as no surprise--that postmodernism is what happens when modernism, which is a revolt against tradition, recognizes that it itself is a tradition. Modernism is the tradition of anti-tradition. But that's ridiculously self-defeating, the modernists said. And instantly postmodernism was born. What happens when sarcasm, which is the ultimate postmodern expression of an iconoclastic temperance toward unoriginality, recognizes that it itself is unoriginal? It then must smash all its idols: its intolerance of unoriginal conversation, its perverse metamessages, its self-conscious and anticlimactic commentary.

And a new iconoclast is born: he is an unoriginally stylized man with a heroically new sensibility. He does not speak with sarcasm, but with irony, when appropriate. He says, "The will to overcome style is ultimately the will of one style over another." This is dawning of the post-sarcastic age.

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Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Forget Foucault's Repressive Hypothesis!

The "repressive hypothesis" is found in Michel Foucault's History of Sexuality vol 1, in which he examines the functioning of sexuality as an "analytics of power" related to the emergence of a science of sexuality (scientia sexualis) and the emergence of biopower. For Foucault, biopower is sort of like a technology of power, which is to say, a way of exercising power encompassing various techniques into a single technology of power. The distinctive quality of this political technology is that it allows for the control of entire popualations. It is thus essential to the emergence of the modern nation state, to modern capitalism, etc. Biopower is literally having power over other bodies, "an explosion of numerous and diverse techniques for achieving the subjugations of bodies and the control of populations"

The "repressive hypothesis" is so-called because the widespread belief that we have, particularly since the nineteenth century, "repressed" our natural sexual drives. He shows that what we think of as "repression" of sexuality actually constituted sexuality as a core feature of our identities, and produced a proliferation of discourse on the subject. This is the legacy of the Victorian age, where calling sex by its name was prohibited. The imperative of Victorian Era Christianity is this: not only will you confess to the acts contravening the law, but you will seek to transform your desire, your every desire, into discourse. Insofar as possible, nothing was meant to elude this dictum, even inf the words it employed had to be carefully neutralized.

We still have this highly-prolix Victorianism in our culture, and is present in our subjugation of sexuality on the level of language. It exists in the internal discourse of institution sand structures in our society. Foucault's terminology here is discourse, which is generally considered to be an institutionalized way of thinking, a social boundary defining what can be said about a specific topic, or, as Judith Butler puts it, "the limits of acceptable speech" - or possible truth. Discourses are seen to affect our views on all things; it is not possible to escape discourse.

In the rest of his book he discusses all the sorts of effects one might expect from this sort of repression we have experienced in our culture, and still exists in cultural memory, repressing us still. It's the sort of puritanism that says we must tell everything, not only consummated acts, but sensual touchings, all impure gazes, all obscene remarks.

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Monday, May 07, 2007

Julia Kristeva's three concepts

Kristeva is an important feminist postmodern theorist, and is particularly associated with three concepts: the semiotic, abjection, and intertextuality.

"Le semiotique" is the idea that speech works as much through sub-verbal codes as by what is actually said. This is similar to the Saussurean codes. The real work of signification is done in the "cleavage between words and meanings". This fascination with the sub- or pre-verbal is something that, looking back, Kristeva now associates with the liturgy of the Orthodox Church: "All my childhood was bathed in this," she said in an interview with the Guardian. She has written a psychoanalytic novel about the Orthodox Church which is somewhat like the Da Vinci Code.

The second of Kristeva's hallmark ideas is what she calls "abjection", which literally means "the state of being cast out." Why, Kristeva inquires, are we fascinated by things that disgust and horrify us? As she put it in her essay Approaching Abjection:

"There looms, within abjection, one of those violent, dark revolts of being, directed against a threat that seems to emanate from an exorbitant outside or inside, ejected beyond the scope of the possible, the tolerable, the thinkable. It lies there, quite close, but it cannot be assimilated. It beseeches, worries, and fascinates desire, which, nevertheless, does not let itself be seduced."


But most famously, Kristeva is associated with the concept of "intertextuality" - the idea that all literature is constantly in conversation with all other literature, undetachable, as a single unit, from the textual mass. Having patented these influential ideas, Kristeva is now acutely uneasy at being chained to her own thought, or confined within her own thinking. "I am very proud of the widespread use of my ideas," she said in the Guardian interview,

"and at the same time very much ashamed because they have become so fashionable. Everybody thinks and talks about 'intertextuality', everybody thinks and talks about 'abjection'. The ideas become politically correct everywhere in the world and I hate it because I think when people repeat what you have done and said, they can no longer recognize you yourself. You are denied. It's a kind of decay of this moment when the idea burst out of your mind. Now the idea is consumerism."


This is the rest of the Guardian article:

"Kristeva applies one term to her project - "synthetic". She likes to join things, mix them fluidly. It is, perhaps, something that links with her background. She came to France in 1965, aged 24, as a refugee from communist Bulgaria. She says she now thinks in French. But clearly, as her latest writing indicates, she still feels Bulgarian.

In recent years, restless as ever, Kristeva has utilized fiction as her principal mode of expression. Her latest detective novel, Murder in Byzantium, revisits the Greek Orthodox Christianity of her childhood and incorporates religious conspiracies and Thomas Harris-style serial killers. What does she see as the connection between Kristeva the critic and Kristeva the novelist? "There is a continuation", she replies. "As you know, I belong to the tendency, or school, in French philosophy which developed in the 60s, in which conceptual work is deeply involved with the personal and in which notions, or ideas, are sutured by style. There is a lot of imagination, rhetorical figures, subjective expressions and so on that that often bother the so-called Anglo-Saxon reader because they consider this French 'stuff' - theory - to be somehow indigestible."

Why is her latest novel so concerned with religion? Is she attracted by the Church? Or merely fascinated by it? "I am not a believer, I believe in words. There is only one resurrection for me - and that is in words. My novel is a kind of anti-Da Vinci Code. I'm not Catholic by background. My father was a very great believer, but in the Orthodox Church, in Bulgaria. As a young woman my Oedipus conflict was in a perpetual fight with that." She laughs. "Afterwards I tried to understand what Christianity is and my approach became more intellectual. On the one side, I'm very much interested in religion. On the other hand, I don't make any kind of spiritual - how shall I say - extrapolation or message. My idea is to link religion with politics and see how in both of them there were, and will be, a lot of crimes and human folly.

Why the detective novel format? "It is necessary to revisit the starting point of my writing detective stories. I date it as some months before the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, when my father was assassinated in a Bulgarian hospital. It was a very, very difficult experience for me. When I arrived, after he was dead, the family was not informed of the cause of his death.

We could make no inquiry as to who was the criminal who had done it. And finally he was, without our permission, cremated, which was wholly contrary to his religious belief. It was very, very difficult for me to recover from this grief - to mourn. In this situation the detective story imposed itself on me, without any voluntary act on my part.

Since then, Kristeva has written a string of detective novels. Is it an entirely separate exercise from the academic work?" No. This is why I made the point about the 60s, and the French theoretical 'stuff'. There have always been some personal implications in my essays. But now it's a jump because I think that writing novels is a sort of process I like to call transubstantiation. There is, as I see it, a very strong linkage between words and flesh in writing fiction. It's not merely a mental activity. The whole personality is in it. You have psychology, you have belief, you have love affairs, you have sexuality, you also have a connection to language. When I'm writing novels, I am making a voyage around, or into, myself. I do it also, of course, in my essays. But my essays are a defense of my self-voyaging. In the novel, I take all the risks of the traveler, or the explorer. And I get all the pleasures as well"

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Lyotard's Naive Game Theory

Lyotard in The Postmodern Condition gives us a kind of naïve game theory about micro-narratives. It is not sufficiently developed in his essay, yet it would not be difficult to reconstruct his ideas using microeconomic theory to talk about micro-narrative “fighting” strategies, i.e. micro-narrative communication.

Postmodernity is characterized by the end of meta-narratives and has a new criterion as to how knowledge is legitimated. Performativity, the “technological criterion”, is the most efficient input/output ratio, and the criterion for legitimating science in this age. This late stage of capitalism has caused the production of knowledge to become easily modeled after technology. Postmodernity has transformed knowledge into the new commanding heights of late-capitalist production. It has been commodified, bought and sold, and if Lyotard is right, in the future wars will be fought over its control.

Paralogy is an alternative to this criterion. Though not a criterion itself, paralogy is the creative resistance to the totality of the meta-narrative, a respect for the paradoxical, and a respect for the incommensurability of language-games, which, since they are not understood, their rights must be respected. An important and crucial aspect of the paralogical is the need for worldwide freedom of information in order to sustain just competitions for power and economic dominance. In order for there to be just paralogical competition, Lyotard alludes to a topic that game theorists have struggled with for decades: perfect information.

The term perfect information describes a state of knowledge in which each player in the game knows everything about the actions of other players, and is instantaneously updated as new information arises. The best example of this is the game of chess, where each player can see the moves of the opponent, and this information is updated with each new move. Game theorists limit the discussion of perfect information to specific areas of knowledge when constructing models. One might speak of “perfect information about prices” which is the most common sense of the term, indicating the full awareness of competitors about all the prices charged in the market. But Lyotard’s notion of perfect information includes much more than prices. It includes the control of information, the movement of information, its availability through telematics, and the contracts—temporary or permanent—between data banks and owners of information.

With Lyotard’s conception of information, there is still more than enough room for a game-theoretic approach to paralogical studies. The idea behind Lyotard’s notion of perfect information is the notion of a kind of perfect competition between micro-narratives. The reason Lyotard gives for perfect information is to have perfect competition. Perfect competition rests on the assumption that the scenario is characterized by perfect information. In the perfect competition model, micro-narratives (which are always “fighting” with each other) will always be in an environment which forces them to maintain their viability, while at the same time not making it too difficult for the micro-narratives to compete, that is to say, not terrorizing each other. Let me explain how this works.

At this point it is worth mentioning that perfect information is a necessary condition for the economic model of production known also as perfect competition. In the economic version of this model, the perfectly competitive market is characterized by four things: (a) perfect information about prices (discussed above), (b) fragmentation (each “move” is so small that it has an imperceptible effect on market prices), (c) undifferentiation (each product is identical no matter who produces it), and (d) no barriers-to-entry (each firm has equal access to the same technology and inputs).

The kind of model that Lyotard expects to yield from paralogy is actually the economic model, perfect competition, between micro-narratives (although we must be careful not to use economics as a totalizing approach to explaining information.) In Lyotard’s version of this model an ideal condition obtains where there are no barriers to enter the databanks of information; where information is free, open, uncontrolled, un-terrorized, and respected; where there is perfect information about data and the history of changes made to the data are public; and where the moves, or “utterances”, of each micro-narrative are small enough to have an imperceptible effect on the moves of others. The best analogy to this model is the open-source wiki, and although wikis can harbor terrorism, the history of changes made to its content is stored in its database.

Perhaps this is the appropriate point to say that this model is an ideal. Perfect competition is the model Lyotard idealizes. In fact, the perfectly competitive model is idealized by modern mainstream economics as well. Mainstream economics teaches that there are such markets in which all four of those conditions obtain and that there are further consequences to be deduced from that model. Yet the “perfectly competitive firm” is an idol for modern economics; it is a falsely simplistic notion of competitive environments. The model itself is a totalizing abstraction from the way realistic competitive behavior plays itself out in the market. There was never a perfectly competitive market in neoclassical economics: the model developed out of a need for mathematical formalism and reductionism only.

It has been argued that the kind of simplicity of “perfect competition” in elementary economics is “autistic”—or narrow-minded—and that we ought to reject the narrow economic world-view and its reliance upon simple models for excessive mathematical formalism. Game-theoretic approaches are in some way a part of the “post-autistic” trend in economics. They “open up” economics to a wider array of possibilities, variations, and paradoxes for model-building.

It has also been argued that, not only is the perfectly competitive market false, but that it is not even desirable. The assumption of perfect competition allows for other arguments to follow. Austrian economist Joseph Schumpeter argued on this basis that some degree of monopoly is preferable to perfect competition. Since perfectly competitive markets don’t allow for secrecy, something Lyotard prefers not to allow as well, important research into new areas of technology is lost. If all players in the market have the same access to information, this guarantees the manufacturing of information will be undifferentiated, since all market equilibria are known or easily obtained by all players. The players’ strategies are fixed at a low Nash-equilibrium, and this provides no incentive for players to develop innovative ways of gaining power, or de-fragmenting themselves from the rest of the market, since their knowledge will be open to all other players. When the goal of the game is win—or to speak Lyotard, “gain winning points”—whether that means earn profit or to silence other narratives, competitive environments must exist.

Players in this game want to create secrecy between them and other players. Secrecy creates a barrier-to-entry that other micro-narratives cannot enter. Secret technology, secret information, which will give them greater power, is a mode of operation the realistically-competitive language-game adheres to. There is a greater incentive to keep information secret, to develop technology in secrecy, and to hold back from sharing information with other micro-narratives. This leads to a realistic scenario in which there is no such thing as perfect competition.

The paralogically competitive ideal might be, as I mentioned earlier, the open-source movement in information. The open-source community developed the wiki and other information tools. That this is an example of perfect competition seems true, aside from the fact that there are no prices involved, and therefore not a market in the strict sense. It can be said that micro-narratives are not always markets in the strict sense either. The non-competitive games can, however, at least be modeled using the game-theoretic known as the coordination game whereby the players in the game are said to strategize collusively. The coordination game, however, assumes competition with rival players. This is important to my argument: it assumes competition is elsewhere. If competition is not endogenous to the model, then it is assumed to be exogenous. Thus open-source shifts the realm of competitive behavior outside the enclave in question (though there is a strong incentive to “cheat” with collusive games.) Rivals of open-source see their software as competing with their own, but open-source is not actively competing with its rivals. This sounds like the triumph of the paralogical over the performative. Yet for this reason, the open-source model is actually similar to the cheap-talk game—a kind of pre-competitive game whereby the moves made in the game are not expected to affect the players when they engage in the competitive game. Since open-source does not engage in competitive performance, it can be seen as paralogically innovative, and involved only with pre-competitive types of gaming.

This seems to defy the Schumpeterian notion that only imperfectly competitive environments (monopoly, monopsony, oligopoly, etc.) can become innovative, and I would agree. The paralogy (the flood of good ideas) from open-source avoids terror in efficient and technologically savvy ways, inspired by the agonistics of the software development culture. What I have attempted to show is that the non-competitive games cannot exist without the presence of competitive games. The coordination assumed in the model does not imply coordination everywhere else too. For Lyotard, this implies that, while the paralogical is anomalous, it does not float above the competitive environment detached from the performativity of the market. That is, the legitimization of knowledge through the paralogical is not independent from the performative. This is not to bring the performativity criterion back into the equation’s centerpiece. Rather, it is to show the synthesis of the performative and the paralogical, and to shore up the evidence for paralogy as an emergent principle of legitimation within the social bond.

Economic Freedom and "The State" as a Meta-narrative

Lyotard talks about the ideology of communicational “transparency,” where we are able to see what the economic powers are doing with our information, and which goes hand in hand with the commercialization of knowledge. He argues forcefully that the economic powers will begin to perceive the State as a factor of opacity and “noise.” It is from this point of view that the problem of the relationship between economic and state powers threatens to arise with a new urgency. Lyotard is in favor of the state, but without warrant, without reflection, and without question. He seems to believe that the state is a kind of benevolent host which adjudicates these disputes even-handedly.

He says, "Economic powers have reached the point of imperiling the stability of the state through new forms of the circulation of capital that go by the generic name of multi-national corporations. These new forms of circulation imply that investment decisions have, at least in part, passed beyond the control of the nation-states.”

He asks us to suppose, for example, that a firm such as IBM is authorized to occupy a belt in the earth’s orbital field and launch communications satellites or satellites housing data banks. Who will have access to them? Who will determine which channels or data are forbidden? The State? Lyotard is worrisome that the state should have no voice in determining which channels or data are forbidden, that the state itself will become a micro-narrative silenced by the terror of multi-national corporations. It is important that “the state” is called out as a micro-narrative, since what else can it be for Lyotard? The kind of unwarranted favor Lyotard gives the state likens it to the kind of hierarchical status of the meta-narrative. This is not questioned by Lyotard.

The idea that one narrative—the state—can even-handedly settle disputes in a just and forthright manner before any other narratives is inconsistent with his own thought. The state as a meta-narrative cannot tell the stories of the micro-narratives within its domain; the meta-narrative cannot hold our experiences together. The state, then, is a “god” for Lyotard—when in fact, as Lyotard reminds us, “god is dead”, and all gods have lost credibility in the post-modern condition. “The state” is the grand narrative that we all play but can no longer afford the sensibility for. Lyotard laughably asks us to remain faithful to this one last grand idea—that perhaps we might not notice?—in one last god: “the state”.

Lyotard is also worrisome that the perfomativity of the market will shut down the performance of the state, that the market will shut down the performance of stagnant research programs, the state included, should it become stagnant (to use the Lakatosian idiom.) Lyotard fails to see the equal possibility that the performance of the state will shut down the micro-narrative enclaves of the state and non-state types. For example, China’s 110 million internet-users are managed by over 30,000 internet police patrollers who are aided by sophisticated Western telematics. When searching google.com for pictures of Tienanmen Square, thousands of images are displayed, many of them the famous “tank man”. But when searching from China using cn.yahoo.com or google.cn—which are both specifically “tailor-made for users in China”—we find images of maps, architecture, cooking recipes, and smiling tourists standing in the square, but none of the ‘89 massacre or the tank man.

The meta-narrative of the state is simply one language community among others, yet it is the meta-narrative whose capacity to terrorize communities is greater than the micro-narrative’s. Cisco Networking, Yahoo! and Google have all signed “self-censorship pledges” to tailor their technology to the needs of the Chinese regime’s political censorship needs and Yahoo! specifically actively aids in the arrests of China’s political dissidents. Lyotard is worrisome that the state should have no voice in determining which data is forbidden, yet it is clear that we ought to be more worrisome should the state have a voice in determining which data is forbidden.

The state has lost its credibility and what are we left with?—the freedom of the micro-narratives to bring a reign of terror onto the rest? This aspect of Lyotard’s thought is similar logically to his thoughts about absolute Sartrean freedom. When there are no meta-narratives, there is freedom in their absence, yet the narrative about freedom is also meta-narrated. So the absoluteness of that freedom cannot be talked about seriously. Absolute freedom has lost its credibility just like the meta-narratives it destroyed. When the state is destroyed and replaced by the groundlessness of the micro-narrative, the freedom it leaves in its wake also cannot be talked about seriously. The perfomativity and credibility of the meta-narrative is called into question, but so is the performativity and credibility of its absence.

This is to say, when the state is called into question, so is its absence—absolute market freedom. Like the Lyotardian argument against Sartre, we seem to be free by default, but we cannot talk about that freedom seriously. We have already shattered our belief in gods, leaving us unable to talk about the invisible hand of the market as a legitimate replacement for the benevolent hand of the adjudicator-state. Lyotard outlines the process of legitimization, yet there is no non-question-begging criterion for what, in the end, is legitimate. His own analysis of this process is correct and is not question-begging, yet everything the analysis is able to talk about is question-begging in nature, leaving us in a state of paradox. Yet in the postmodern age we are delighted by paradox.

In responding to Lyotard, we must acknowledge that the state is simply one narrative among others, and that it is not hard to visualize free-narrative performance along the same lines as state-coerced performances. Both have lost any meaning when talking about performance and credibility. Yet we must have free-narratives if we are to have anything. Thus instead of talking about the performative value of the market in the absence of the state, the more relevant area to examine is the paradoxical notion of “freedom” in the absence of all meta-narratives: the non-conceptual, paralogical triumph of the absurd and the sublime over the structured, and performance-evaluated narratives of the past.

Lyotard on Language Games

Lyotard claims that we have now lost the ability to believe in meta-narratives, that the legitimating function that grand quests once played in society has lost all credibility. The question then becomes, what now forms the basis of legitimation in society if there is no overarching meta-narrative? For Lyotard, the answer lies in the philosophy of Wittgenstein, which analyzes the way sub-groups in society regulate their behavior through rules of linguistic conduct.

If we have rejected grand narratives, then what we have fallen back on are micro-narratives. Micro-narratives are essentially Wittgenstein's “language-games”, limited contexts in which there are clear, if not clearly defined, rules for understanding and behavior. We no longer give credence to total philosophical contexts like Marxism which ostensibly would prescribe behavior in all aspects of life, rather, we have lots of smaller contexts which we act within.



Later in Lyotard’s report on knowledge he uses the language-game theory to talk about justice for the various linguistic communities who obey competing forms of logic. All natural language groups are composed of families of language-games. These meanings are not separated from each other by sharp boundaries, but blend into one another. The concept is based on the following analogy: The rules of language (grammar) are analogous to the rules of games; meaning something in language is thus analogous to making a move in a game. The analogy between a language and a game brings out the fact that only in the various and multiform activities of human life do words have meaning. Lyotard says, in an almost Rawlsian fashion, that we need to strive for justice without first deciding what kinds of laws are just. The two “rules” he gives for this are as follows.



A recognition that there are many language games and it will not satisfy us to legitimate one over the other. That would be a politics of terror. That is a politics of forcing others out of the conversation. But for ourselves we will want to rearrange the conversation so that we continue to have a voice. Learning to define rules of language within our local situation. The language game of “resistance” needs to be settled upon and agreed to locally and provisionally with the present situation. Only if we can agree on local and provisional rules will our conversation begin make sense to the postmodern ear. In general, we choose the rules that seems most able to foster our local paralogy, that is, the rules that generate new ideas within the community conversation (or the therapy dialogue).It seems to me that computers will assist us in this paralogical process because they can make more available the information we need to understand each other. Also, the availability of information makes it less tempting to resort to suppressing each other's voice (i.e., terror). Lyotard recommends, therefore, that everyone should have complete access to the data that can be made available to them through telecommunications and informatics. If we can make our conversations more paralogical, more generative of new ideas that we find inspiring or satisfying, then we will never exhaust the fruits of our discussions. Although there will always be a winning and losing of points, the process itself will generate new fruits of understanding forever, and continuously -- and that will be a winning situation for all of us who have become postmodern.

Lyotard wants to call this paralogy a “postmodern justice” because it provides people what they deserve without requiring us all to agree. We do not have to agree before hand what we are striving for. It happens if we do these two things. Think of it like this: Each win or loss occurs within the language game at hand and can be re-evaluated within other language games. That is, there are no overall winners and losers, just won and lost points. Such a practice not only satisfies our desire for justice, but it will help us make inroads into the unknown because the fruits of our paralogical discussion will not be merely a recycling of yesterday's understandings.