Monthly Archive for September, 2008

Coincidence? I think not!

Intellectual history is in large part the geneaology of ideas. We try to understand the backdrop, the implicit assumptions, the unconscious past meanings that present use still carries. Sometimes it’s fun to do it to yourself.

Over at LadyBlog, through children’s books, I try.

But what would Sartre have thought of social networking?

Are you looking for something to add to your Google Reader that isn’t quite as taxing as “Diaries of the Greats: Commemorative Blog Edition” (Pepys; Orwell) but has a bit more intellectual meat to it than, say, that cluster of Mad-Men-character Tumblrs that was hot for about a minute and a half this summer?

I give you “Being and Nothingness: le weblog personnel de Jean-Paul Sartre.”

Mocking the misanthropy of genius hasn’t been this much fun since Strindberg and Helium.

The Pepys/Orwell phenomenon highlights something else, actually: even as the infinite capacity of the Internet has broken all rules regarding a certain kind of time-boundedness — eliminating the tendency of old information to get “buried” under new information, for example (much to the chagrin of Google News and United Airlines) — the rise of blogs has encouraged packaging information in a serialized manner for consumption. Pepys and Orwell aren’t just being reintroduced for the 21st century, but de-archived (in a manner of speaking). Sidestepping the question of whether or not we’d be able to handle reading their diaries at one go these days, it seems like a really solid marketing strategy for targeting people who are mature/stagnant enough in their Web use that they tend toward “checking” rather than “exploring”.

Breaking down is easy

One of my new favorite professors, R. Howard Bloch, dropped a few sentences yesterday that overwhelmed me with happiness - suddenly made my ego felt justified in its hyperactivity. We were reading the self-justifying memoir of the great scholastic philosopher Abelard (’im what got ‘is bits chopped off for bonking Heloise) and discussing the spectacular arrogance of a man convinced he was constantly being persecuted by his jealous inferiors. And that’s when Professor Bloch dropped in this:

Paranoia is the purest form of literary criticism. It’s the product of an incessantly interpretive mind. Imposing patterns upon patterns of self reference, it places the self center and everything is filtered through its relationship with the interpreter. And the best thing about is that it’s totally incontrovertible. It’s based purely on a closed system, a set of subjective references set upon each each other.

Apologies if I’ve misworded it in remembrance. It should be obvious why this is great stuff, as a casual extension of work done by 20th century theorists on the ways in which patterns of literary expression manifest the patterns of our psychological processes. For the best examples, see the work of another much beloved professor, Peter Brooks, for whom the Freudian balance between repetition and teleology becomes a model for how narrative prevents a novel’s plot from foreclosing too quickly:

narrative must tend toward its end, seek illumination in its own death. Yet this must be the right death…Deviance, detour…these are characteristics of the narratable…Plot is a kind of arabesque or squiggle toward the end.

But the reason I’m excited about paranoid literary criticism today is that it relates the psychology of the literary critic to the psychology of the blogger. The blogger obsessively creates links upon links, tracing patterns of influence and tracking exactly whence everyone is getting their ideas. A hardcore blogger will find a way to relate every interesting new story back to her own obsessions. Such constantly linkage makes for closed self-referential communities riddled with extensive mutual analysis. Maybe that’s why the sharpest literary critics I’ve known are also the most successful bloggers. It’s all great fun, just like literary criticism and paranoia.

It may be a surveillance society, but it’s our surveillance society.

Rule: I take criticism poorly. I find it irritating. But I don’t find it disturbing.

Exception: The commenter who responded to my YDN column about the lack of explanation surrounding increased campus police presence by asking, “What are you trying to hide?”

Oh, right, I forgot. Only the most shamefully degenerate college student would ever engage in illegal activity. Like underage drinking. Or file-sharing. Or jaywalking.

Of course, that’s not only a straw man but an inaccurate one. The real assumption is that it’s foolish to think that the police would ever care about the illegal things students do, because their sole purpose is to protect us from the bad guys. Sure, this comes from a place of blind faith in the institution — “Of course the University has nothing but our best interests at heart!” — but also from entitlement: “We pay their salaries with our tuition, they have no choice but to be on our side!”

There’s also the fact that the closer you get to having decision-making power yourself, the sillier it seems to scrutinize the intentions of power (Obama on FISA, anyone?). But as dangerous as it is to rationalize that “When I’m in charge it will all be okay,” it’s more troubling to assume that there’s some sort of mutual understanding between “decision-making people,” that they have the same interests at heart — and, furthermore, that those interests are necessarily in the best interests of society. That it goes without saying that the police are here to protect students from the strangers roaming their courtyards, and to imply otherwise is not just ridiculous but rude. What are they supposed to be around to protect, anyway? The law?

Peddling Pegler

Daniel Finkelstein is being sensible about the latest Palin furore. The brunt of the story is that Palin quoted some praise of small towns, out of context, written by Westbrook Pegler, who elsewhere called for the murder of Robert Kennedy. As Finkelstein points out,

Palin did not misrepresent Pegler because she didn’t talk about him.

Palin might be inadvised to reference a racist who issued calls for political assination. And simple political intelligence should be a requirement for high government office. But she didn’t endorse his complete oeuvre, or claim him as her inspiration. She just lifted a few pretty lines about standard small town values. Really guys, get over it. There are far more serious things worth attacking her on.

I don’t know much about Pegler, but Buckley seemed to like him…

Dreams of my father

David Frum isn’t usually my favorite pundit but recently he’s been posting too much common sense to ignore. He’s been at the forefront of conservative skepticism about Palin. One key Frum line is that Palin euphoria has moved the McCain platform from the home of straight-talking realism to a confusing land in which personal charisma, endearing backstories and competing aesthetics muddy each other. Thanks to the Palin pick,

it turns out that many conservatives care as little as ever about administrative skill and executive accomplishment. Our party and our movement overwhelmingly respond to symbolic cues.

It’s an argument other commentators have been picking up on all week and it’s got plenty of GOP loyalists worried. Peggy Noonan was embarrassed to be caught claiming that Palin only got the pick because

“I think they went for this, excuse me, political bullshit about narratives. Every time the Republicans do that, because that’s not where they live and that’s not what they’re good at, they blow it”

The question that keeps coming up is where personal narrative belongs effectively in a McCain campaign. Paul Mirengoff puts it best

We conservatives have had a good time ridiculing the Obama phenomenon, especially its messianic feel — the willingness of its adherents to pour so much hope and belief into such an empty, or at least incomplete, vessel — and its elevation of “narrative” over substance.

It turns out that we were dying to have basically the same experience.

I’d question Noonan’s conviction that “Republicans can’t do narrative” - after all, what was Bush Junior’s 2000 race but the return of the prodigal son? It turned out there was a way to take those alcoholic frat boy stories and make them do good. But Mirengoff is right to point out that they can’t ridicule Obama’s campaign for being narrative-heavy and then turn the same trick themselves. Incidentally, it’s telling that he calls Palin “a vessel” - guess those passive views of femininity just gotta pervade the language mornin’ noon and night.

But there’s a specific literary reason why Palinites shouldn’t try fighting Obama when it comes to narrative in America. Some months ago I heard a truly great literary conservative argue that the truly American narrative is the narrative of the fatherless. As a Brit, I’m often stunned by how preoccupied my American friends are with matters of ethnicity - if a nation won’t provide centuries of history to help one root one’s identity, perhaps neurotically plotting one’s genealogy and racial composition can help fill the void.

Look at the great American novels: Huck Finn, the story of a parentless boy torn between escaping and yearning for a shiftless father; The Scarlett Letter, the plot entirely driven by a child’s fatherlessness; The Catcher in the Rye, told by a boy whose parents are all too absent but who spends his days wishing he could offer children the paternal protection he clearly craves himself; The Great Gatsby, whose dominant character desperately covers up his father’s lowly origins and tries to create a whole new lineage for himself, even though that same rejected father is one of the very few who’ll show up for his funeral…the list goes on and on, the literature of a nation defined by a sense of historical rootlessness, descended from no forbears and entirely self-begotten.

So it’s not a theory I can claim as my own work, but I like it. And when it comes to narratives of fatherlessness, Obama is always going to win hands down. Sorry Sarah, you got the pick because the media strategists hadn’t read enough American novels.

And while we’re at it, check out this older Frum post attributing the cold reception given to Russell Kirk’s The Conservative Mind on publication to the Old Right’s reluctance to privilege the power of romantic narrative.

Apocalypse Soonish?

Capitalism and socialism fought a war, and socialism won.

Last night, halfway through a thoroughly depressing conversation about Fannie, Freddie, and Merrill, I looked over at my friend the anarchist: “When this all goes to hell, can I hole up with you in Idaho?”

So that’s the plan. If — when — there’s a run on the banks, when the Treasury has to start printing cash so the FDIC can bail them out, when the bottom falls out of the world, we’re heading west. There are farms out there, and generators. Guns to keep off looters.

It’s a little bit Galt’s Gulch, a little bit Reign of Fire. It’s also thoroughly ridiculous, and after ten minutes of planning we looked around and started laughing. It’s hard to imagine that kind of a world, and we all felt silly for doing it. Every generation has thought the world was going to end. Most of them were wrong.

I might want to invest in gold anyway.

Oh my God, really?

Andrew Sullivan nukes the fridge:

Here [Palin] is last year:

“I’m not a doom and gloom environmentalist like Al Gore blaming the changes in our climate on human activity.”

Here she is this morning:

“I believe that man’s activities certainly can be contributing to the issue of global warming, climate change.”

Was she lying then or lying now?

Option #3: She changed her mind. It happens sometimes. Thank God.

Shiksa Countries Are for Practice

I was going to blog about yesterday’s YPU debate with John Mearsheimer, but Philip Weiss has done it for me. He gives a great impression of the debate (and the peculiarity of the Union as an institution), and he gets us right.

Read the whole thing.

Before it got going Will Wilson and his friend Nicola Karras of the Party of the Right came over to introduce themselves. Wilson is burly and looks like a wildhaired Irish orator. He wore a 1776 tie and had read my work in the American Conservative. Nicola was smaller, quieter, hair pulled back. Will was to be one of the speakers. I thought, Maybe she is Will’s acolyte.

Don’t give him any ideas…

It’s four o’clock: do you know where your reality is?

The LHC has been switched on, and the universe does not appear to have been destroyed. (Check here for periodic updates.) Our subjective experience of existence continues. However, this doesn’t prove anything: we have no way of knowing that this universe is the same one we started in. The LHC may have weakened the barriers between parallel universes, transporting us from one to the next without warning.

So how can you tell? We at Iqra’i, with our extensive scientific experience, are here to help, with 10 Ways To Tell If You’ve Been Transported To An Alternate Universe.

  1. Do previously clean-shaven acquaintances suddenly sport goatees? (Caution: some may have grown goatees since the last time you saw them. Consult a calendar.)
  2. Has the international situation changed significantly? This may be as obvious as a newspaper article about the USSR, but watch for subtler clues: a reference to Austria-Hungary, Mercia, or the Republic of Vermont may also indicate a shift in universe. (A reference to the Republic of Alaska may not.)
  3. Are you surrounded by the ravaged hulks of once-proud buildings? You may have been transported to a post-apocalyptic world ravaged by cyberpunk bandits.
  4. Are you greeted by a significant other you never knew you had? (Caution: consider how much you drank last night.)
  5. Have you sprouted a three-foot-long beard? Be aware that this may be related to Rip Van Winkle Syndrome. Check for signs of morning breath, American independence, and ninepins-related sports injuries before proceeding. If female, get your hormone levels checked.
  6. Do strangers defer to you in unexpected ways? If so, you may have been sent to the parallel reality where you are king. Make yourself at home.
  7. Has technology changed significantly? For instance, do you see flying cars or horse-drawn carriages? (Note to John McCain: Google doesn’t count.)
  8. Do nationally prominent figures suddenly occupy radically different roles? Is Maureen Dowd co-hosting a talk-show with Oprah?
  9. Have your country’s politics shifted? For instance, is there an oppressive government no one seems to mind? Alternately, is there an oppressive government people do seem to mind?
  10. Is there a Large Hadron Collider?

If you experience some or all of these symptoms, consult your nearest quantum mechanic.