Poor Roland Barthes... So far from God, So Close to the French Academy

Understanding Roland Barthes as a semiologist should not be that difficult; coming to terms with him as an academic figure, well, that's a different story.  The difficulty in understanding Barthes is emblematic of the struggle with all new ideas.  Fate threw Barthes into the midst of a stagnant period in the French academic establishment.  It was a period of time when the status quo was not really engaged in evading or combating "subversive" ideas regarding tradition.  After all, they had the bull by the proverbial horns and nothing was going to touch them while they were concretely seated on the driver seat of establishment.  When Barthes came along, he became an easy target for the establishment.  He suffered greatly because of this but his work was richer for it.

Roland Barthes broke into the academic scene with innovative studies on semiology (study of signs) and revolutionized the serious intellectual discourse by examining how human beings communicated by means other than language.  His studies on hair styles, clothes, visual images as modes of communication ran dead straight into the wall of the established academic community in France during the post-war era.  You really can't blame the establishment too much, since after the war years every institution in France (or the rest of Europe, for that matter) was in a foot race to re-establish a sense of normalcy.  Having said that, this is also the time when status quo seekers aim to consolidate their power grip and stifle new rebellious ideas.  This was the struggle Barthes was up against for most of his career.  Seeking a position at the Sorbonne was an impossible task without having first written the required 10 year thesis known as the "Doctorat d'Etat."  Even when Barthes had comprehensive studies under his belt such as "Writing Degree Zero," or his famous "Mythologies," he had to "settle" for a position of head at the Ecole Practique des Hautes Etudes (the Sorbonne's main competitor).  His lack of a formal education also worked against him, as Barthes was not even allowed to the candidates examinations.  The recognition, however, was enough for him to break through enough to be ranked among the establishment intellectuals.  He spent his life really combating ideas that the conservatives relied on as their pillars.  Barthes was an open homosexual and a radical in all academic ideas.  Eventually, his rebellious ways attracted enough of a following to guarantee his eventual success in his battle against the establishment.  Many consider his "success" an act of "selling out," yet other see the pragmatic approach as part of his accommodation of ideas outside of his own.  This, of course, did not come without its own set of controversy and tension.  Barthes study of Jean Racine went counter to that of the establishment (particularly that of  Raymond Picard).  While France chugged away into the 1960s and the rebellious civil unrest that accompanied, its academy was ablaze with nouvelle critique versus the old guard of old fashion views of literature and its role.

The value of Roland Barthes cannot be measured directly but it is easy to see where the "rebellion for rebellion's sake" led to changes in the canon that has benefited previously silent voices.  To read Barthes today seems like an exercise on futility; I don't say this because there is no value to it but because those same views and voices that Barthes' work helped liberate have become the loudest when it comes to censoring ideas, studies and criticism that does not fit the mold of the new establishment.  I will let you decide for yourself (assuming you have an objective mind) to see where these parallels are drawn today.

Research Update: Learning About the Nature of Physics and Consciousness

There's the physics that only a few experts and their posse can understand, and then there's physics for the rest of us.  Never mind that I took three physics courses as an undergrad (yes, with labs) and had to work harder than I ever did to get a decent grade in the last course.  I was way over my head on that last one (acoustics and space).  At any rate, I have been reading and understanding anew massive questions about the nature of the physical world and our perception of the same.

First, I had to try and discover a basic definition of consciousness because that's where the research is aiming.  But having a habit of starting backwards, I read "The God Particle" by Leon Lederman, and it did help me to grasp some of the premises of "Consciousness" by Susan Blackmore.  Blackmore presents a beautiful and clear premise about consciousness studies.  It's wonderful, she states, that we live in an age of so much scientific advancement that the question of consciousness is now embraced by scientists who for years (if not centuries) had denied even the existence of such a question.  We cannot, she continues, extricate ourselves from consciousness to study consciousness.  This becomes the first Hard Question of consciousness studies.  We are all subject to the same physical laws that govern the universe.  As a result, the study of consciousness might find track in looking at the seat of consciousness; that is to say, where the soul sits.

The balance between experience and how our physical self responds to it is perhaps the best starting point.  Philosophers declare these experiences under the umbrella of the term "qualia."  Simply put, qualia refers to perceptions of the world that are divided between unique and universal.  For example, Blackburn refers to "[t]he redness of that shiny red mug is a quale; the soft feel of my cat's fur is a quale; and so it is the smell of coffee."  The qualia in how it relates to consciousness is, again, the division of perceptions that are agreed upon, and factual references that are universal and remain unchanged no matter the perception.  Blackburn refers to "Dualism" (as in Rene Descartes) in an attempt to draw a parting premise.  Throughout the ages, humanity has been molded (for the lack of a better term) in the belief that there are two realms of the world.  The first realm is the "us" inside.  The second realm is the "the" out there.  The question, however, can be argued to be related to the development of culture and civilization rather than a conscious effort by humans to question their existence and their sense of self.  For example, it can be argued that this dualistic idea comes from the clash between the developing human (hominid, etc.) with the environment and developing cognitive experiences which where translated into the recognition of self and others.  Nature, for example, must have been a perplexing discovery (to draw an understatement) and this discovery might have given rise to the explanation of phenomena as a creation of the "other."  The sun, as another example of outside of individual consciousness, becomes the controller of phenomena and thus religion developed.  Of course it isn't that easy a theory.  Matter and energy has existed in the universe since whatever it was happened at the beginning (Big Bang, God, etc.), and whether that matter was controlled under some confine of physical law was not define as such until rational beings began to discover it as such.  But I digress (to draw another understatement).  If I have taken an over-simplistic view of these premises, I am deeply sorry.

Blackmore relates Descartes theory clearly, "the mind is nonphysical and nonextended, while the body and the rest of the physical world are made of physical, or extended substance." Blackburn positions this explanation very well, and follows it up with the quintessential inquiry familiar with anyone who studied Descartes, "How do the two interact?"  Other philosophers or/and scientists completely reject the dual idea and resort to a unified theory, monism of sorts.  This guides the path to a narrower place which offers just as many questions as dualism itself.  Even if a person describes herself as a materialist, a monist in belief, the position still ignores the question of consciousness.  The world really can't just be that "solid" a material.  With new developments in science and neurobiology, materialists come armed with good research and data as to how the objective brain gives rise to 1) phenomena, 2) experience, 3) qualia.  It is clear enough to state that the brain is a matter, objective in the sense that it is tangible, real to the touch.  However, some problematic questions still persist.  How does the interaction of brain cells give humans the power to experience reality, to be conscious of what is around them (whether physical or not)?  Susan Blackmore cites Thomas Nagel as an example of consciousness as objective reality.  In 1974, Nagel used the premise of a cave bat.  "If there's something it is like to be the bat--something for the bat itself, then the bat is conscious.  If there is nothing it is like to be the bat, then it is not."  Interpreting this can take an examiner in different directions.  For one, the argument of whether or not animals are self-conscious is one that--despite the attempts in recent years by animal activists--still has no answer.  The bat would have to know the concept of his self; that is to say, because I am part of a number of bats in this cave I can recognize we are all bats.  Furthermore, the ability of a rational human being to recognize the bat makes the bat conscious.  Nagel goes on to make another comparison, "if you think that there is something it is like to be the worm then you believe the worm is conscious." If this seems like one of those "why ask why?" questions, then I am not doing a fair job of explaining it.  There's a good possibility that we can all account for an experience with an animal (a dog, cat, bird, etc.) in which we've come to believe the animal knows, or has self-awareness.  Perhaps it is the inability to remember that is the biggest determent to whether or not animals are self-conscious.  My cat walks by the full body mirror I use to practice the cello--she does so every day and I believe she's come to realize that the image of the cat outside of her "self" is not another cat but simply a reflection.  Yet, she forgets from time to time and fusses at the mirror as if for the first time.  However, Blackmore explains clearly that "it is no good talking about perception, memory, intelligence, or problem solving as purely physical processes and then claiming to have explained consciousness."  The argument remains irreconcilable due to the separation of physical matter and metaphysics.  There is an explanation--a very interesting one--in the book related to a "Zombie-like" entity, as to whether or not the dualistic is present in the zombie.  If the zombie is physical, walking around the world without perception/phenomenological ground, then the internal "self" doesn't exist.  The zombie doesn't exist not because it is a figment of our imagination, but because there's no recognition on the "inside" of the zombie.  And just like the bat argument, this one is another pocket of vacuum in this big inquiry.

From here the argument takes on the human brain.  How can we examine consciousness and assume that all consciousness are alike, or, rather, that since human brains are average-wise about the same size, what happens when we encounter a damaged brain?  Does consciousness operate differently there?  What about critical mental illness?  Are psychotic patients in lack or in possession of a different consciousness?  That is all for now.  The semester is coming to an end and there's much to do before the summer.  Shalom.

Where Do We Go From Here?

Today, I had a very good discussion with my students about lifelong learning.  We tried to define it considering all of the variables present in our lives, all the way from the requirements of the college curriculum to modern life and how technology is changing the way we think and act.  Really, what is "lifelong learning?"  I suppose we could just categorize it as another educational catch phrase: "Critical Thinking," "Reading Across the Curriculum," "Writing Across the Curriculum," "21st Century Education," "Lifelong learning."  It seems to fit nicely with the others, no?  "What a pity," commented one of my students, "that we have strayed so far from the good life."  Now, imagine every one's surprise when this seemingly "invisible" student opened his mouth for the first time in the semester.  Most people in the class didn't even know who he was--painfully shy, I'd judged.  The Good Life.  He went on to explain what it meant, reciting in order the virtues needed to attain that state of being.  I agreed with the student wholeheartedly.  The most of the class, however, did not.  I didn't want to prod any further because I didn't want to put him on the spot, especially being the first time in over nine weeks that he has actually participated in class.  Yet, he wanted to tell us... he wanted everyone to hear.  His grandfather, he said, had taught him about what the good life really is.  His grandfather, he continued, was an uneducated man.  He came to the United States from Poland in the early 1970s, got a job at a Ford plant, and sat comfortably to appreciate and enjoy his good life.  So, is that it?  Is this idyllic idea of the American dream the good life?  Not so fast.  What this student's grandfather had done was read, and read and read.  He read just about every major idea in the Canon of Western Civilization.  At work he was an automaton, my student recalled, at home, however, he was a mind dynamo! 

A couple of years ago, the grandfather passed and bequeathed his library to his grandson.  My student explained how every single book, without exception, was underlined and noted in the margins.  He talked about the great care his grandfather took with his books.  As a child, my student recollected, he had stared at the floor to ceiling bookshelves and wondered what his grandfather's library meant.  Were those books about the car making industry?  Were they manuals as to operate machines at the plant?  No.  With the exception of Mark Twain's Collected Works there wasn't a single other book of fiction.  The rest of the library included "The Harvard Classics" collection, Will Durant's "The Story of Civilization," Herodotus, Plato, and Thucydides.  When my student received his inheritance, he didn't know where to begin.  Time passed, he explain, and he had no interest in the books which had remained in the boxes for years since.  Nevertheless, the day he decided to open the first box, he opened the first volume of the Harvard Classics, he discovered a letter from his grandfather.  It was a road map, his grandfather wrote in the letter, to a life of learning.  He begged his grandson to not take life for granted and to go and pursue the life of the mind.  I began to think of this story as a badly written moral story, and even felt an obligation to bring the class back to focus: What is the Good Life?

As my student finished his story, he defined living the Good Life as fulfilling the potential we all have to live rightly--that it was easy to live, but that it was difficult to live rightly.  No one reads those books nowadays, he continued.  While I agreed partly with him about today's reading preferences, I asked him to explain what living rightly was, at least, in his grandfather's opinion.  He explained that his grandfather had devised his own education--that somewhere along his seemingly simple life, his grandfather had determined that he wanted to live rightly.  No one knows how to live rightly from the air, his grandfather had written in the letter, knowledge must come from somewhere... and this is what these books are.  This is your road map.

Of course, the class continued its normal course of discussion and moving on, but I am absolutely at a loss on how to approach my "silent no more" student the next time class meets.  He had defined for the entire class the meaning of a fulfilling life, away from technology, away from second (or even third) rate philosophies--even beyond the religious.  Today, we all learned from grandpa: keep it simply and stick to the basics (in this case, the Classics); no discussion of the Good Life could be productive without them.

Being Good: An Introduction to Ethics

Being Good by Simon Blackburn is a re-read for me. Why now? Why re-read this book after re-reading Will Durant's "The Story of Philosophy" during my Year of Living Philosophically reading list? Because there's so much to this very slim and wonderful book and I want to share it in my blog. I am also teaching a World Literature advanced course (seniors only), and the main connecting theme is virtue/ethics. As a result, we've read a wide variety of entries on that topic, including "Meno," and a lot of Voltaire, Kant, Shopenhauer, and even Nietzsche. Blackburn's little book (like Durant's excellent volume) is a clear and concise summary of what it constitutes to live ethically. But the book is much more. Instead of beginning with a dull history, Prof. Blackburn starts with "The Seven Threats to Ethics." He actually doesn't get to the history or chronology until the last chapter, which deals primarily with the foundations of ethics. And even then the book doesn't turn into a chronology, but continues to relate ethics to different polemics and scenarios that make the reader think rather than read passively. This is a must for any student of ethics, or for anyone seeking a strong foundation of the study of right and wrong. Some of the examples Blackburn uses include (but are not limited to) abortion, summus bonus, etc. You can't go wrong with this quick and accessible read.

Herbert Spencer: Misunderstood and Forgotten

The problem with Spencer's philosophy is not that it lacks brilliant ideas, but rather it is the story of a man who "bit on more than he could chew," according to Durant. Following on the footsteps of Kant, Spencer gave life to the pragmatic idea of rational and metaphysical philosophies. Unfortunately, Spencer was not able to speak or theorize with the clarity and mastery of Immanuel Kant. As a result, most of the premises (which incidentally Durant recognizes as brilliant) were either misunderstood or declared hogwash by his contemporaries. The vastly misunderstood ones, according to Durant, eventually came to be recognized later as insightful and valid; only after many years, when Europe turned back to its spiritual roots, was Spencer recognized. With Comte and Darwin as his main influences, it is little wonder why Herbert Spencer's legacy turned out to be what it is today. I don't say this in a derogatory way, but Durant seems to think that because Spencer began with the ideas of "the Unknowable," and was only able to explain it metaphysically, the result was more confusion than clarity of ideas. Where Spencer gains clarity is, ironically enough, in his early studies of "The Evolution of Psychology, or the study of the mind," and "The Evolution of Society," which eventually lead to scientific procedures in the study of the changes in society. With religion, Spencer was less kind: "Religion is at first the worship of a multitude of gods and spirits, more or less alike in every nation; and the development of religion comes through the notion of a central and omnipotent deity subordinating the others, and coordinating them into the hierarchy of special roles. The first gods were probably suggested by dreams and ghosts." The insubstantial matter of Spencer's metaphysical theories were as constant as his changes of mind. Will Durant's account of this great philosopher is absolutely on target even back in the 1920s (when "The Story of Philosophy" was published). Morality and ethics were fields that Durant explained well according to Spencer's philosophy, but that too has continued to change, and poor Spencer has been left in the shadows of philosophy.

Schopenhauer is a Major League Pessimist... but in a good way!

I've heard it said that pessimists always tell the truth. I am not quite sure of the statement or its provenance, but supposedly the pessimists do so in order to ruin it for everyone else. That's a long shot from where Schopenhauer started from, and certainly his intention in coming up with his theoretical argument for pessimism has a bit more credibility than simply hearsay. Will Durant's "The Story of Philosophy" presents a Schopenhauer consistent with the new ideas flourishing in the very late 1700s and early 1800s. Schopenhauer resisted the comfortable line of reasoning that preceded him and presented the world with a few that many deemed "incorrigible" and "denigrating." Durant presents a man obsessed with breaking the mold of complacency; very much the same way Nietzsche will do in a few years.

Schopenhauer theories of the reason behind procreation were not only breakthrough theories at the time, they would probably create havoc in a world obsessed with individual rights. With this I mean the scenario in which you'd have to explain to an individual that despite the hundred of thousands of dollars in tax payers money, they simply cannot conceive. Of course the warranty of life, liberty and the pursuit only extend that far, it doesn't really include the "happiness." The pursuit is warrantied, not the happiness. Now, imagine telling that very same person that the reason tax payers couldn't continue paying for their fertility care was simply because, as Schopenhauer so stubbornly put it and I snobbishly repeat, "the inclination or impulse to recreate is controlled by will, and with the perverse idea that somehow we all need to leave something behind when we depart this world." Schopenhauer not only accuses our infertile friends as fools (his word), but also connects their desire to be parents with an egocentric tendency; the "it's all about me" mentality that drives individual desire. And that's simply a short outline of Schopenhauer's reproductive theory.

Where things get really heated is in "The World as Evil." Here Schopenhauer gives us cause to pause and consider, is it really worth it to live in a world that simply wants our destruction. Do we really want to be part of a world where desires are masked as successes when in reality they are just an increasing list of our demands on that world? "... because 'will' itself indicates 'want,' and its grasp is always greater than its reach... For every wish that is satisfied there remain ten that are denied. Desire is infinite, fulfilment is limited--'it is like the alms thrown to a beggar, that keeps him alive today in order that his misery may be prolonged tomorrow...'" Durant seems to explain Schopenhauer as the seminal existential theoretical background, and considering Nietzsche fell in love with "World as Will and Idea" (Schopenhauer's book), and went on to develop his "survival of the fittest" from this growing idea of meaninglessness. But, what should we live for then? In the words of Harold Bloom, "Where Shall Wisdom Be Found?" Don't bother looking for it in academia, or the Great Ideas of the humanities... Schopenhauer explains that "If the resistance of the 'will' against the apprehension of some knowledge reaches such a degree that that operation is not performed in its entirety, then certain elements or circumstances become for the intellect completely suppressed, because the 'will' cannot endure the sight of them; and then, for the sake of the necessary connections, the gaps that thus arise are filled up with pleasure; thus madness appears. For the intellect has given up its nature to please the 'will;' the man now imagines what does not exist." Certainly Durant quotes Schopenhauer accurately here, and one is left to follow the rest of the outline on Schopenhauer with a feeling of despair bordering on existentialism (as per Sartre). But, of course, there's much hope. Durant spends the rest of the chapter on "The Wisdom of Life." Out of the despair that "The World as Evil" implies comes the hope that "a life devoted to the acquisition of wealth is useless unless we know how to turn it into joy; and this is an art that requires culture and wisdom." This sounds like the proverbial "those who say money can't buy happiness simply don't know where to shop" adage. With wealth, a person could devote himself to a life of learning and of spreading the wisdom of art and culture. That much is very accurate, and how many of our great financial minds need to heed this advice today.

The sections on art and religion also carry with it a powerful punch. Like I said, Schopenhauer was really the seminal thinker of what Nietzsche assessed as the "Will to Power" but too aggressively, and later Sartre would turn into the drudgery of existentialism. I respect and love Schopenhauer now more than ever. I think this re-read is turning into a great learning experience.

How Soon We Forget George.... Orwell, that is!

I made a terrible mistake when I wrote previously that my next volume on my reading was Will Durant's "The Story of Philosophy." It is true that presently I am engrossed in a re-read of Durant's compact outline of philosophy, but before I got there the schedule really took me to George Orwell's "Why I Write." I got this little volume on the strength that it contains "Politics and the English Language," which is one of my favorites from my undergrad years. The core of the book, however, "Why I Write," was really not about writing so much as it was a critique of the English establishment, and a sort of diatribe on the virtues of socialism. While I don't necessarily agree or disagree with socialist ideas, I think Orwell's piece is a little bit over the top when in reference to England and its people. One must remember that this is being written during the opening salvos of World War II, and that the English were very far from knowing what destiny had in store for them. Orwell speaks derogatorily of Hitler, of course, but spends more time "bashing" the English establishment than the enemy that is upon him. In fact, he actually blames the English establishment, culture, philosophy and frame of mind with the overwhelming force Germany is pressing down Europe with. While one may or may not disagree with such assessment (Lord Chamberlain notwithstanding), it strikes of hasty generalization. Here are some lines from the essay:

"... The policeman who arrests the 'red' does not understand the theories the 'red' is preaching; if he did his own position as bodyguard of the moneyed class might seem less pleasant to him.... It should be noted that there is now no intelligentsia that is not in some sense 'left.' Perhaps the last right-wing intellectual was T.E. Lawrence.... [A] marked characteristic is the emotional shallowness of people who live in a world of ideas and have little contact with physical reality.... England is perhaps the only great country whose intellectuals are ashamed of their own nationality.... Pacifism is a psychological curiosity rather than a political movement...."

There's much more I could cite here as evidence. The essay, while sharp and informative, is a mass of generalizations that seem to protest the same manipulation of language Orwell so gallantly shouts at in "Politics and the English Language." Here's proof: "Political language is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind." It may be a George thing, after all. :-)

Right now, I am up to Aristotle in Durant's magnificent little outline, "The Story of Philosophy." I have re-discovered how much I loved this book. It is the most clear and concise outline of philosophy based on ease of writing and understandable terminology and phrasing. What a great read. I will be writing on sections of TWO philosophers at a time.

The Year of Living Philosophically

I told everyone about a week ago that I had decided to take December off and do little reading and writing in between now and the 1st of January. I am still holding on to that premise, but I've got so much to do before the end of the year. My reading list for 2009, for one, is taking much more time than I originally predicted. This year's list (2008) was shot to pieces around the end of the summer. Some questions circulated on whether it was a good idea to have an actual list to begin with. I am sticking to the decision to do a list, but I am still unclear about what to include. One idea (and a very good one indeed) suggested by a fellow blogger was to read only philosophy for a straight year. I think that's an excellent idea. The question, of course, is "what to include?" I have some ideas but if you have a suggestion after I post my list later this weekend, please let me know. I will begin, as I begin my often philosophical readings, with a re-reading of Will Durant's "The Story of Philosophy." I know it's not a very "chic" book when it comes to academic rigor, but it is put in clear and succinct form, and it's a great brush up on the major names throughout the ages. So, for now, that's the book I will begin my list with... I'll be putting it up this coming weekend.

The Academy is full of surprises, really, and my students have taken to "Crime and Punishment" with both trepidation and pleasure. Raskolnikov is not a simple character, but I think for the most part they've been able to digest the main issues of the plot and how the protagonist is the true catalyst (for now) of events.

Somehow I am not suffering from NaNoWriMo withdrawal... more relieved than anything, really, of having survived and succeeded another literary episode of lunacy. Cheers!

Looking for the Main Candidate for Philosopher of the Year

Isn't it funny that there's a committee now searching for the philosopher of the year?  Well, it would be fine, just fine, if the criteria was clearer than simply contributing an original idea.  Most of my colleagues believe there are not original ideas at all, especially in philosophy.  Does this mean another committee for another symposium of sorts headed, by whom else, but our philosopher of the year?!?!?! Count me out!