Badiou on Being

We begin with the infinite multiplicity: the multiplicity of multiplicities. These do not exist as such, but they have being. Being is pure multiplicity. How is this so? In the same way that the referent of a mathematical formula does not exist and yet has being. “For a multiple to be, is to belong to another multiple, whose being is already presupposed.” This referential multiple is known as a “situation”. Existence is a quality of being. As such it is in the being of existence to inscribe itself within the infinite: “Existence is the proper intensity with which a multiple inscribes itself into the infinity of a situation.” We may say then that existence is a participation in the infinite. Here we have the beginning of a discourse on logic, that is to say, a discourse on the relations between situational appearances. Here too, I believe, is the beginning of a discourse on ethics, which for Badiou, pertains to the fidelity of a subject to the [situational] Event.

"Anarchy"

The actions of the so-called "Anarchists" in Toronto today are condemned. I hesitate here to use the term "Anarchists". Those whom I refer to are hoodlums and cowards. Can one imagine Emma Goldman, for example, hiding her face beneath a handkerchief while throwing a brick through a Starbucks window? She had too much dignity to do either. These are the actions of the childish, the urban frustrated, the impotent. What righteousness, what fidelity to the cause it must have taken to hide behind rags and break windows! Are these actions anything but a violent passage à l'act, reflecting in their perpetrators the very ends they wish to accomplish: the eradication of the degenerate dirt of city life? They, for a moment, become the degenerate dirt themselves, an ironical -becoming- of the urban symptomatic whose source they wish to destroy. Are their actions not a symptom of the urban pathology itself? It is no wonder one can find "Anarchist" journals containing cartoons advocating the destruction of the urban environment and a reversion to our primitive rural origins. Step 1: Tear up bricks and sidewalks to destroy and drive away capitalists and police. Step 2: Shut down the city through whatever means possible. Step 3: Allow nature to overtake the city. Step 4: Throw away all our clothing and live a vegan lifestyle. Here Žižek's prescription for the Left is as pertinent as ever: "Marx has said: 'The philosophers have only interpreted the world, in various ways; the point is to change it..' But is it not now more important than ever to re-examine this? Rather than try to change the world (unthinkingly), is it not time for philosophers to interpret it so that proper action may be taken?" This is finally how one should read the contemporary urban Anarchist movement: as symptomatic of an urban pathology, complete with Utopian ecological vision and rites of passage.

Pascal (an attempt at translation)

L'homme n'est qu'un roseau, le plus faible de la nature, mais c'est un roseau pensant. Il ne faut pas que l'univers entier s'arme pour l'écraser; une vapeur, une goutte d'eau suffit pour le tuer. Mais quand l'univers l'écraserait, l'homme serait encore plus noble que ce qui le tue, puisqu'il sait qu'il meurt et l'avantage que l'univers a sur lui. L'univers n'en sait rien.

Toute notre dignité consiste donc en la pensée. C'est de là qu'il nous faut relever et non de l'espace et de la durée, que nous ne saurions remplir. Travaillons donc à bien penser voilà le principe de la morale.

Pascal, Pensées, 200-347.

Man is but a reed, the most feeble thing in nature; but he is a thinking reed. The entire universe need not arm itself to crush him: a vapour, a drop of water suffices to kill him. But if the universe were to crush him, man would still be more noble than that which killed him, because he knows that he dies and the advantage which the universe has over him; the universe knows nothing of this.

All of our dignity consists, then, in thought. By it we must elevate ourselves, and not by space and time which we cannot fill. Let us work, then, to think well; this is the principle of morality.

Concerning the Son (excerpt from a letter)

In our recent discussion concerning an anhypostatic Christology .. that the human nature of Jesus has no subsistence apart from union with the λογος, having its being only "in" the subsistence, or enhypostasis of the incarnate Son, I logically inquired concerning what implications the kenotic understanding of Christ's Incarnation had for this formula. In response you commented on Christ's submission, that it was not the emptying out of his nature or person, but of his powers. I find this somewhat problematic for a number of reasons, aside from the problem also of whether or not this formula should be accepted as taught by the Fathers or is a relatively late development in Protestant Scholasticism (contra Leontius of Byzantium for example).

1) In regard to his "person" (hypostasis, prosopon, persona: First Council of Constantinople)

I find it inconceivable to think of a "person" without its corresponding capacities (whether these capacities are freely given up i.e. suicide or surrender, or forcibly taken i.e. murder or the inducement of death). A person minus its corresponding capacities is nothing more than the void, or in the case of a kenotic Christ, human entièrement. But this obviously conflicts with the anhypostatic formula, since there is no subsistence apart from union with the λογος. In other words, a kenotic understanding of Christ cannot co-exist (whether this means a Christ sans divine nature or power) concurrently with an anhypostatic one unless one is willing to empty the notion of hypostasis of any meaning. This is obviously not a possibility within the orthodox paradigm.

Father's Day

Today in churches across the land there will no doubt be sermons preached with the theme "father". It is common for pastors to draw on various holidays for inspiration, especially when these holidays allow one to draw comparisons and contrasts between a role played by man, and the corresponding divine role played by God. Many of these sermons will highlight the relative fragility of the human "father", the incompleteness of his presence, the awkwardness of his expressed love, etc. Other sermons will remark on the absent father, the father who fled or otherwise passed on. Still others might approach the topic with nostalgia, reminiscing of fatherhood during a bygone era. Some preachers may even call attention to the challenges of the new daddy daycare phenomenon sweeping younger generations, quickly becoming the new norm in some societies (one only needs to think of Sweden and the public scorn shown to fathers who choose to stay at work rather than take a year off to help raise children!). All of this will be only one side of the homiletic coin. Many (but not all), will go on to contrast these very fragile, but generally well-meaning human fathers with "our Father in heaven". Here we have a prototype, a Platonic form, the ideal Father. When our earthly father fails us (for fail us he must, we're told), the heavenly Father is there to pick us up, to show us grace, to hear our heartfelt cries. In this way human fathers are given an example, and each one of us assured intimacy with a Father-figure par exellence. Here is the Father we all long for and desire, sans the awkward human barriers to authentic human affection.

I will not comment here on a feminist critique of God-as-Father, as interesting and pertinent as this critique happens to be. I will simply speak from experience. I've been lucky enough to have a human father who puts any heavenly version to shame. In fact, even if a heavenly version were to present himself claiming to be my Father, I would greet him with a yawn and ask him to leave. Or perhaps I would entertain him and ask where he's been all this time if he is my Father. I would like to know how he is any different than so many human fathers who abandon their children for years, returning after various adventures to try and insert themselves back into the lives of their children. "I was with you in spirit" he might say. At this I would press him for a clear definition of "being with" someone (let alone what he means by "spirit"!). If one's presence is merely an idea or feeling, then it is my idea or feeling, and as such what you're really saying is that I had myself. Besides, many comforting ideas or thoughts could be created to suit this purpose. I would be forced to point out that the "relationship" has been rather one-sided all these years, and that in the end one couldn't speak of a proper "relationship" at all, the very idea suggesting mutuality and companionship. I would recommend to him that rather than be referred to as "Father", he change his name simply to "God" without using any other misleading nouns or descriptors ("God" is sufficiently ambiguous to reflect the lived experience). This silly nonsense leading back to Jesus' use of "abba", or "daddy" must really stop (other rabbis and prophets may have used similar expressions, but of course Jesus' relationship to the Father is portrayed uniquely by various writers). It's emphasis in many churches seems to reflect a need for fathering, rather than any actual experience of Father. It reflects a hope/desire, rather than any action by heavenly Father. This is seen in the common rebuttal made by some Christians that if one really desires the Father he will make himself known: "draw near to him and he will draw near to you". If one hasn't experienced the presence of the Father it is only because one hasn't had faith enough, desired it truly, recognized it even. For my part I know that my human father, knowing that his child earnestly desired to be with him, would stop at nothing to be present. Not only this, even if his child didn't want to be with him, he would still make every effort to show his availability, his wish to be present (and this in personal terms). Rightly so! For some people throughout history it is the very absence and impotence of the heavenly Father that has caused such consternation. Where was he when....? The answers are hardly satisfying.

Personally, my earthly father is good enough. He's not perfect, but then again, he could teach the heavenly version a thing or two...

A Secular Age -reflection-

Having just completed Taylor's A Secular Age and having presented an analysis of it to my colleagues, I feel leaving a few of my reflections here makes for good closure.

One major conclusion I made was that Taylor and Žižek are in fact trying to do the same thing: revitalize their respective traditions with a vision of renewal. Taylor, following Péguy's comments, could have just as easily been quoting Žižek:

"Creative renewal was only possible in action which by its very nature had to have a certain temporal depth. This kind of action had to draw on the forms which had been shaped in a deeper past, but not by a simple mechanical reproduction, as with “habit”, rather by a creative re-application of the spirit of the tradition."

It was Lenin, when faced with implementing the New Economic Policy in 1922 (after the Bolshevik Revolution), a policy allowing a greater market economy and private ownership, who said it is sometimes necessary to “begin from the beginning” again and again. Žižek, apropos the Left, says this repeatedly. Following Badiou he emphasizes a fidélité à l’événement (Fidelity to the Event), in this case, a fidelity within a given context which is always "beginning from the beginning" in a creative reinterpretation of the emancipatory Idea. This is precisely Taylor's formulation for the Christian Church (sans the transcendent):

"The goal in this case is not to return to an earlier formula, inspiring as many of these will undoubtedly be; there will always be an element of imitation of earlier models, but inevitably and rightly Christian life today will look for and discover new ways of moving beyond the present orders to God."

Some Christians have begun to do this, to contextualize and move beyond traditional forms, while creatively reapplying the "spirit of the tradition". Whether they will gather momentum remains to be seen, a large part of this depending on their ability to avoid defining themselves by what they are not, or what they perceive themselves to be a corrective to. These considerations should not even enter the equation. Another risk will involve making the particular the universal, imposing some local form as a mould for all others. So a particular form may be successful (transformative etc), we may write books about it, others may start to think it would be possible to transplant the forms in other places (didn't something analogous to this happen with communism, so that we have Russian communism, Chinese communism, Cuban communism, etc, each taking on slightly or radically different form?). No, both Taylor (the transcendent frame) and Žižek (the immanent frame) insist on the key concept of contextualization, serving the Idea (which is Universal) of the movement from precisely where one is. Each of these emancipatory groups (or Christian groups, who may also have an emancipatory orientation in the Leftist sense) form a kind of communion. Taylor sees the way forward as a “communion of itineraries”, a multiplicity of “whole lives”.

So much more could be said here, but this will suffice for now. I close Taylor's massive tome with a new appreciation for this Catholic thinker at McGill. I am richer because of him. To be continued...

Dear pithecus

Dearest pithecus

I write you again to inquire about your life.

What was it like to step into the world that first time? What were your thoughts? Could I understand their content? Did you bring fire with you or did you learn to make it? What manner of weapons did you fashion? What did you kill and what did you eat? You became a traveler. Perhaps you met others, somewhat different than you? Did you kill and eat them or did you love them? How did you live out your days upon the earth?

Tell me, did you have a god or gods? Did they aid or harm you? I have heard that man developed a fear of the shadows early on as a survival advantage. I suppose not every dark corner of the forest harbours a demon, but thinking so might protect one from a sabretooth on occasion. To this day our sense of the supernatural may still be hard-wired, as it were. It is a legacy left over from your day my darling pithecus. What do you think? Perhaps there is no difference to you between a sabretooth and a demon...

What was your impression of the sun and moon, those great lights of day and night? What did you long for? What cambrian thoughts burned beneath your brow?

I'm full of questions dear pithecus but perhaps you have nothing to say? That's right you're a man of action.. but I wonder sometimes about that first step.. not a literal step mind you, but the impulse to move out into the world. A great deal has happened since then. I wonder what you would think of it all.. I'm excited at the prospect of one day receiving an answer from you.

Your loving child,

H. Sapiens

Reflection

There is a town in north Ontario

With dream comfort memory to spare

And in my mind I still need a place to go

All my changes were there.

Neil Young

My memories know only a wild freedom

On snowy winter nights I would often ride the snowmobile out to a place overlooking my hometown. It was fitting that this small snowmachine was called an "Elan", for it was during these nighttime runs, darting along winding trails as fast as the shadows receding from the headlight, that I would be filled with a pure and powerful sense of living, of an élan vital: a powerful creative force. This was also a sustaining force, seeing me through some of my most difficult moments. Standing upon the summit of my solitude, the glowing lights below -filtering through a million gently falling wonders- warmed and comforted my heart. I suppose such moments are purchased with great sums of money, or hastily lived during a weekend away. Such moments might be the point of life for some, the whole reason for such industriousness and labour, though I suspect that so much work is often rewarded by other things. I will never cease to be amazed by the commercialization of experience.

There are such places in my dreams... places I once haunted like a ghost. They contain no trace of me now, like a lake reflecting the flight of geese over its water. Once upon a time I flew over them.. now they fly over me.

Enchanting and Disenchanted

In A Secular Age (2007) Charles Taylor speaks of the "disenchantment" of the West. This was/is a process which in a recognizable way started to unfold around the Reformation, prefigured to some degree by other movements/philosophies reaching back in time (the Epicureans, pre-Socratics, etc). The idea is that people once existed in a world/cosmos thoroughly embedded in and pervaded by the "divine," participating in the Eternal Forms (Plato), and that people themselves were also pervaded by spiritual forces and persons. A few examples of this: demon possession or the power of curses, objects containing spiritual forces such as amulets, sacred stones, or even (in the New Testament) clothing: "handkerchiefs and aprons that had touched him were taken to the sick, and their illnesses were cured and the evil spirits left them" (Acts 19:12). This last example might provoke slight unease in some Christians today, but this only proves Taylor's point that we have undergone a thorough process of disenchantment (though not that long ago I viewed an ad on television offering "free" handkerchiefs blessed by an evangelist- in exchange they wanted a free-will "donation". I took them up on the offer, sans donation, and was sent a 3cmx3cm piece of cloth. With some disappointment I realized that not only did I not receive a blessing, it was barely large enough to blow my nose in). Perhaps I wasn't "porous" enough (the term Taylor uses to refer to the self living in this enchanted world, a world where spirits and forces can "penetrate" and fill an individual).

I think he's right that fundamentally our (Western) world is disenchanted. The stars are no longer angelic creatures, or windows into heaven. We no longer burn witches at the stake for supposed hexes and curses. There are always exceptions of course, and the handkerchief example is a case in point. In addition to blessed handkerchiefs one might think of "holy" water and oil, the Eucharist, relics of the saints and of Christ's clothing/cross/cup, and even a belief among some denominations in demon possession and spiritual "warfare" within and without the human life and world events. The instructor of the course in which I'm reading Taylor's text was absolutely right when he said, "For many people it isn't a matter of believing or not believing: these things are simply incomprehensible." Taylor is quick to point out that this reaction was not even a possibility at one time in the West.

Reflecting on the idea of enchantment/disenchantment I wonder what other areas of the Western world may still hold an enchanted view of things. I say "other" here because obviously much of the Church still holds a medieval view of the cosmos/universe, one where spiritual forces still inhabit material wildernesses.. but even here the Church cannot help being influenced by disenchantment. Church bells are no longer set ringing to ward off thunderstorms. With few exceptions, medical science and doctors are consulted about illness before priests or spiritual healers (prayer may be said concurrently with treatment, but of course medical treatment takes priority). I could go on.. but what about non-Christian/religious worlds? One that immediately jumped to mind was the area of brain science. Are there not still scientists/philosophers who hold to an enchanted model of consciousness? This isn't to be opposed to a mechanistic/reductionist view either. There are other organic models (plasticity models for example) that are not reductive in this way, but even here there is always a risk of seeing consciousness as a deep mystery (reminiscent of the Eucharistic Mystery: an unfathomable -presence-) which will never be solved.

As researchers uncover more and more it is inevitable that resistance will increase to their discoveries, or rather, to the implications of these discoveries. We see this in fundamentalist appropriations of the sciences (eg. Creation Science) and the full out battle being waged between Christian apologists and the New Atheists (who for the most part are scientists). I will also mention Islam only briefly here. Islam has proven much more adaptable to scientific discovery than Christianity, but I would still challenge the Islamic notion of "Insha'Allah", for example, with the question "but how is God's will actually made manifest: through what -divine action-?" Or is divine action once again seen as humans-at-work as in a Christian model (we are his hands, his feet, etc)?

With mixed hope and despair I continue to observe the relationship unfold:

The enchanting and the disenchanted.