Rough Theory

Theory In The Rough

Monthly Archives: January 2007

If I Have to Be Trapped in a Lift, You Have to Read About It…

So I just spent a couple of hours trapped in a lift with a colleague. After a meeting meant to clear the air about certain things that haven’t been discussed here. Sometimes life has a fantastic sense of irony…

Our adventure began when we had almost reached our floor, heard an almighty *SNAP*, and felt the elevator begin to fall. Before we’d had much time to panic, the elevator came to a stop on the same floor the library occupies, and the doors opened a crack. We tried to force them open the rest of the way – no dice. We tried the emergency telephone button inside the elevator – no dice. We then spent an interesting several minutes calling out to students and staff wandering right past us on the way into the library – so intent on their reading, apparently, that it took some time for us to find someone willing to peer into the gap we’d pushed between the elevator doors, and listen to our calls for help.

The library staff were more attentive, calling security and sending someone out every few minutes to check on us. Security, when it arrived, asked how many of us were trapped inside. “Two of us!” we answered, only to hear the security guard say into her walkie-talkie, “There are only two of them” – which prompted my colleague to shout, “But we’re very important!!!”

The security guard then berated us for having contacted the library staff, rather than calling security directly by pressing the emergency telephone button. We advised that we had tried to do this. She didn’t believe us, and asked us to press the button again. We did (not that this seemed particularly relevant, now that they were on the scene, mind you – but we weren’t in what one might call a strong negotiating position…). The security guard said, “No – we need you to push the emergency telephone button.” “We are!” we replied. “No,” the security guard informed us, “not that button – the emergency telephone button.” Since we could see what we were pushing, and the security guard could not, we wanted to know, “When you say ’emergency telephone button’, do you mean the orange button in the bottom right, with the telephone on it?” The security guard indicated she would call the elevator repair company…

Left by ourselves for the time being, we discussed the sorts of things one discusses when trapped in a lift. Films we had seen recently. Holiday events. Small talk of various sorts. I mentioned that I should have brought the book I’m currently reading. I flipped through my notebook to see what it might have inside, and found a printout from someone else’s blog. My colleague wanted to see it – flip, flip, flip – clearly not reading a word. They then started talking about the fictitious rock group their son had formed on MySpace, which now apparently has its own Wikipedia page. I quietly despaired that this is everyone’s immediate association when I mention academic blogging…

The security guard returned, telling us that the elevator repair company would arrive in 10 minutes -20 at the most, and asking us whether we were okay. When we said yes, the security guard tried her best to suggest reasons that, in spite of our assurances, we might not be: “Are you getting too hot in there? Is it too stuffy? Are you thirsty or anything?” No. No. Not at all. “That’s good then – the librarian will check on you in a few minutes – you be sure to tell her if you’re not okay.” The security guard wandered off. Amused, I asked my colleague what good it would do, if we told the librarian we weren’t okay – what could she do about it? Noticing the strained look that flitted across my colleague’s face, I decided not to make any more comments like that…

Ten minutes passed. Several more minutes after that. Then the librarian wandered out to tell us that the elevator repair folks would be there in 20 minutes. “Twenty minutes from now?!” my colleague asked, voice sounding somewhat higher pitched than normal. “Are you okay?” the librarian wanted to know. I tried not to make eye contact with my colleague…

More lift discussion… How much does child care cost these days… How often do you make it back to England… etc.

The elevator repair person finally arrived, looked at us through the crack in the elevator doors, said, “Hmmm… the doors are stuck open”, and then closed them. No further communication. We discussed whether this development, which now leaves us in an airless, enclosed space, represents something that should, strictly speaking, be considered progress. A few minutes later, the elevator moved – just enough to stop between floors. Better and better.

Over the next half hour, we watched the lights for random floors switch off and on. With no apparent correlation, we felt the elevator move – up, down, up, down. Then we heard someone walking on the top of the car, exclaiming: “What is going on here?!” Small suggestion: this is probably not the best thing to say…

Just as my colleague had reached the end of their tether, and was pressing the (obviously nonworking, but I wasn’t going to point this out) “emergency phone button” to try to get someone to tell us what was going on, the doors opened again, and we could finally escape…

It’s a funny thing: on my own, I never take the lift to my office – shows me the dangers, I suppose, of hanging out with the wrong crowd… ;-P

Updated to add: I’ve been watching an email exchange on the incident flit around this afternoon, initiated by my colleague’s complaint to the powers-that-be, who responded – instantly – with a satisfying flurry of emails both up and down the food chain to make sure the incident would be properly investigated, followed by a very concerned individual response to us:

This is terrible news…I have already written to the respective people to get this looked into….are both of you okay is there anything we can do???

All of this is making me feel terribly guilty, even though I’m a mere “cc” on all this action: I feel like I should have broken a limb at least, to justify this level of solicitude…

My colleague has replied:

Thanks for giving the urgent notification to those that needed to know, and for your concern.

N. and I had a pleasant conversation, and managed to suppress for that time the anxiety of the lift dropping out of the sky! The Library staff were also very attentive. No major physical or psychological injuries apparent.

Determinate Peregrinations

Just wanted to post a pointer to a conversation over at Larval Subjects, where Sinthome has posted a lovely piece titled “Forcing the Event”, which discusses how to conceptualise dramatic historical transformations and revolutionary moments.

Critical theory – to the extent that it attempts to remain within an immanent, non-metaphysical explanatory framework – faces an unusual conceptual challenge: how to explain how social creatures, conceptualised as embedded within their context, can come to be critical of the context in which they are embedded, and can direct these critical sensibilities into conscious political practice that transforms the context itself.

The discussion at Larval Subjects revolves around this issue – talking about limitations in common attempts to understand historical context and causation, and asking whether there might be better ways of conceptualising both, if we want to understand the potential for transformation as some kind of determinate negation, rather than as an essentially random break with history. Although the discussion is motivated by a shared interest in problems related to immanence and critique, many of the issues discussed would also be relevant for those interested in how to conceptualise historical context and causation in a more general sense.

My own contributions – which were probably a bit long for polite posting on someone else’s blog (sorry Sinthome!) – should probably be described as speculative, but I’ve still found the discussion extremely productive, and wanted to place a pointer here, for any readers who might otherwise miss the exchange.

Note to Other

To the person who came across the site on a Google search for: “Can an acme klein bottle be used for drug use?” – apologies that my klein bottle post was not more helpful. However, your question is addressed on the Acme Klein Bottle FAQ, which states:

Would you make one of these for smoking?

Nope. I make Klein Bottles, not bongs, not hookahs. A Klein Bottle is homeomorphic to a sphere with 2 crosscaps. A waterpipe (or bong) needs an input and an output, so it’s likely to be homeomorphic to a cylinder, and therefore not a Klein Bottle. It’s possible to make something resembling a Klein Bottle into a waterpipe, but I’m not interested in doing so. There’s too many other nifty topological shapes to create!

Note to Self

Note to self: no matter how irritating the photocopier situation at your office, try not to forget when you send long print jobs to the photocopier, containing your fragmentary notes on Hegel… This practice attracts undue attention and necessitates much explanation the following day – particularly from the folks who have already been dropping in, wondering why you have so many books in your office…

Re-irritating the Differences: Missives from the Misreading Group (II)

A belated post for the new year, this post covers the second part of our Derrida-Searle reading. To recapitulate, we had worked through:

J K Austin, “How to do Things with Words”, 1962

Followed by:

J Derrida, “Signature Event Context”, 1971
J Searle, “Reiterating the Differences”, 1977

And now follow on with:

J Derrida, “Limited a b c”, 1977
J Derrida, “Afterword”, 1987

Unlike the previous post, which (somewhat tediously) laboured through the arguments presented by Derrida and Searle respectively, I will be taking a more cursory look at the argument in total. An aspect of this which interested our group was the structure of the argument, which I will abbreviate as:

a. Austin makes a case, albeit with some caution and reluctance, for a theory of speech acts.
b. Derrida performs a deconstructive reading of Austin, via Corneille and Husserl, highlighting the exclusion of particular speech acts on the basis of a characteristic (paracitism, citationality) which turns out to exemplify communication in general (iterability).
c. Searle replies briefly and dismissively, seeking to rebut a number of Derrida’s criticisms, and demonstrate Derrida’s own argument is incoherent under its own terms.
d. Derrida replies in turn with a long, point-by-point and equally dismissive repudiation of all of Searle’s rebuttals.
e. A decade on, Derrida, through a series of responses to readers’ questions, clarifies and reinforces aspects of his reply, places this in the broader context of the history of deconstructive writings, and further discusses, among other things, the question of an ethics of discussion.

The latter two texts are long, and by turns, amusing, defensive, elliptical, pointed, aggressive and tedious. It is hard not to agree that in large part Searle has misread Derrida – a point in which the reading group, following Derrida, were unanimously agreed upon – and Derrida employs considerable rhetorical force and legal defence in Limited Inc to demonstrate a) Searle frequently misphrases Derrida; b) rebuts by unwittingly using Derrida’s own arguments from “Signature Event Context”; and c) contradicts his own positions expressed in “Speech Acts” and other places. Whether a line-by-line reading would find points of difference to Derrida’s critique becomes progressively less relevant; the two questions that were raised by my reading were: “Why would Searle, elsewhere a more considered and polite interlocutor (though not always), not only misinterpret Derrida’s essay, not even doing an obligatory undergraduate level of research into Derrida’s ‘tradition’, and yet employ such dismissive and contemptuous language?”; and in turn, given this, “Why would Derrida expend so many words in a protracted self-defence?”. The strangeness of Derrida’s style merely serves to emphasize, at least to the casual reader, what great care is invested in defending and attacking argumentative positions, when there is no possibility of any dialectical resolution being realised. Strangely perhaps, given the extreme scepticism often imputed to Derrida, of the two his texts veer far closer close to desiring, if not resolution, then at least clarification, elucidation and insight.

I had thought to bemoan the fact that here was an opportunity for “two prominent philosophical traditions” to engage in fruitful debate, and quite clearly, the opportunity was lost. But with this loss (which assume that Searle and Derrida could speak for these traditions), possibly there is a gain of quite a different sort. Rather than seeing these texts expound various positions in relation to a given theme (for instance, the methodological correctness of excluding a given class of citational speech acts), or as contrastive styles of particular traditions, I found this instead to be an instance of a particular type of dialogue. No doubt skewed by the nature of the academic debates our reading group has been following (Chomsky/Whorf, Pinker/Lakoff, Searle/Chomsky, Pinker/Chomsky), which to greater or lesser degrees have involved significant theoreticians talking past each other, this debate exemplifies the kind of dialogue in which positions are taken, argued for, enforced and defended – but never vacated. What is common in the structure of these debates in general is that the possibility of dialectic is foreclosed by the very nature of the debates. This is not a matter of two thinkers failing to find agreement, but of failing to engage in the kind of dialogue – dialectic or otherwise – which might find agreement. What might motivate this kind of dialogue? Certainly it would be possible to impute all kinds of psychological motives (career advancement, jealousy, a phlegmatic temperament). But I think such imputation misses the point: that in certain kinds of positions, there is a necessary antipathy to other kinds of positions, brought about by both the context of the debate and the goals of the speaker. Having struck such a position – which I think Searle does, for example – it then becomes impossible to find conciliatory ‘moves’ in the course of the dialogue. This in turn ensures the kind of vituperative, perhaps justified, reaction Derrida supplies. Of course this is not to say that a speech act theorist must be antithetical to a deconstructionist (although there may be the sorts of obstacles Derrida finds to reconciling deconstruction with speech act theory). But it may be to say that when one founds, or continues the founding, of a particular theoretical movement; when one competes against other theories, not only for recognition, but prestige, funding, space in the academy; when one finds in other kinds of discourse the sort of criticism which seems ephemeral, beside the point and, most critically, failing to follow the rules one has assiduously applied oneself – then in these circumstances the tactically correct ‘move’ in a dialogue is not one of conciliation, but open and hostile attack. While a focus on context, rules and goals – in short, a focus on describing dialogue as a form of game – might seem to be reducible to psychologism of sorts, it is possible under this model for the same speaker to occupy different positions, no less determined, in other debates, with the same or other interlocutors.

With presumption typical of our reading group, though without the nuance typical of this blog – and blithely ignoring prior theories of the dialogic – I’d like to graduate this suggestion to that of a tentative theory of dialogic acts. Under such a theory, it would be possible to create a set of types which contrast, for instance, the ideal of the dialectic from the all-too-common polemic; and perhaps encompass a broad range of other possible conversational acts as well. Notwithstanding the attractiveness of elaborating such a theory in full here, it would only be polite for the moment – as a guest on this blog – that this elaboration be deferred…

…On a more sedate note, using a game metaphor to describe this and similar debates naturally brings its own assumptions – chiefly, that one or more of the dialogue ‘players’ has a hidden motive which is masked by a superficial failure to obey the laws of good academic, which is to say dialectic, discourse. Of course this is easily denied. That a particular thinker uses an aggressive, argumentative style, which does not meet some standard of politeness, tolerance, etc., need not entail the thinker has something to hide. Or if it does – could not every argument be analysed in terms of some sort of similar hidden motives? Using background knowledge, that one does this or that due to some external circumstance that we, qua interpreters, have contingent knowledge of, might be arguably be itself an invalidation of the rules of engagement. Here it might also elicit the response: if Searle attempts (poorly?) to response to the Derrida of “Signature Event Context”, and not the Derrida of such and such a tradition, such and such a body of writing (Of Grammatology, Writing and Difference and so on), is he not simply conforming to the rules which bind a different game (perhaps that of a strain of analytic philosophy, which treats an argument as a logical series of propositions, without requisite reference to a context)? Might the requirement to understand the context, tradition and so on be a requirement only of a particular kind of argument, which, for example, suits the style, aims and orientation of Derrida, deconstruction and so-called ‘continental philosophy’ in general, tipping the hand towards the player with the preferred game? Finally: is it therefore a question of preferring one game, with its set of rules – recourse to context, literary effect, the implied knowledge of a lifetime of reading of particular “philosophical tradition” – over another? Even assuming Searle critically misreads Derrida, as he himself suggests – not quite sincerely – that indeed he might, might not he just have got it wrong, even under the terms of his own tradition?

However speculative this analysis – and that of the reading group was no less so, though conducted with greater sobriety – the enjoyment of following the threads of the Searle-Derrida argument is precisely that it elicits such open-ended questions. Some commentarists have assumed the argument resolves in favour one way or another; despite Derrida’s laying waste to the Searle critique, in my view, the lingering atmosphere of the argument is not one of victorious elation – it is instead one of irritation. Irritation of Searle with Derrida; irritation of Derrida with Searle; the explicitly acknowledged irritation of Derrida’s readership with his patient, step-by-step refutation in Limited Inc; Derrida’s subsequent irritation with the broader misreadings of deconstruction voice in the Afterword; and the irritation, mingled with the enjoyment, of pursuing a polemic which, without a common set of rules, fails to get off the ground, much less supply the sort of ideal dialectic resolution that is promised by “confrontation between two prominent philosophical traditions”. The answers, really non-answers, to the questions I pose above, are that in the game-theoretic model I follow, positions need to be elaborated by players for goals which may well be “outside the text”, outside the specific purposes we assume exist in the normative, that is to say dialectical, “confrontation” between theories, thinkers and the like. Of course, having no more than partial access to this context we as readers may continue to interpret imperfectly, take our own imperfect positions, conduct our own imperfect polemics, and so on. The dialectic remains, as the author of this blog likes to say, a counterfactual ideal towards which, however illusory, our arguments would like to tend.

Unusual Literacies: Scott Eric Kaufman’s MLA Talk Online

For those who participated in – or at least followed – Scott Eric Kaufman’s preparations for his MLA presentation, just a note that Scott has now posted his talk to Acephalous. Aside from posting the talk itself, Scott also provides a lovely introductory discussion about the process of preparing for an academic presentation (hint: Scott is a bit more prepared, and a bit less neurotic, about the whole process of converting an academic concept into a talk than I tend to be… ;-P).

Given how many links I’ve scattered in the paragraph above, I’ll provide the direct link to Scott’s talk here, for those seeking to avoid the backstory… ;-P

I particularly love Scott’s description of the original theme of his talk:

the role blogs could play as virtual parlors devoted to the professionalization of sharp minds with rodential social instincts.

(People who know me in person will probably guess why this line might appeal… ;-P)

More seriously, the post contains some very good reflections on the distinction between written and oral presentations, while the talk captures particularly well some key elements of what I agree is a strange confusion over academic blogging, even amongst those who participate in the medium. Trying to slice through some of this confusion, Scott invites us to set aside our technophobia, distinguish professional blogs from more confessional online diaries, and recognise when objections commonly framed as specific to blogging boil down, on reflection, to criticisms of fairly garden-variety violations of professional conduct that could arise in other forms of communication. Scott challenges us to think seriously about what blogging contributes as a distinctive mode of professional practice – and puts forward the recommendation that blogging may provide a particularly important means of overcoming the forms of disciplinary hyper-specialisation encouraged by other forms of academic writing.

Or, in Scott’s own words:

Perhaps reading academic journals at 8 p.m., after having worked since on my dissertation since 8 a.m., strikes some as indulgent (insane, even); and perhaps trying to reformulate that into something a genuinely educated audience can understand, strikes some as a waste—but to me, the former indicates that I list “literary theory” among my hobbies, the latter that I’m interested in processing it Cornell-style and communicating it to those outside not only my increasingly specialized sub-discipline but my profession, so that I might better understand it myself. Consolidating what I’ve learned and rethinking what I’ve written occupy large chunks of my evening and are, I believe, essential to my intellectual and professional development.

But you really should go read the talk for yourself… ;-P

Overheard in a University Coffee Shop V: Some Like It Hot

Context: a heated discussion at the next table over what would make a good flavour for an “Australian” ice cream (hyperlinked for the benefit of overseas readers… ;-P).

Woman: Vegemite!

= pause =

Woman: You know – vegemite, mixed in the ice cream!

= pause =

Man: Be kinda salty, wouldn’t it?

= pause =

Woman: WeetBix!

== long pause ==

Woman: You know – like cookies and cream! But, you know… with WeetBix…

= pause =

Woman: I don’t know… What’s “Australian” any more, anyhow?

Man: I know! Barbecue!

= pause =

Man: You know! Like charcoal grilled! Charcoal-grilled ice cream!

== long pause ==

Woman: I don’t know…

= pause =

Woman: I’ve always reckoned that ice cream is better when it’s… you know… cold…

Message in a Klein Bottle

Animated Klein bottle with a möbius strip.Someone emailed to ask what that strange image was in the Hegel post, and why I illustrated the post that way. The image was probably not the clearest I could have found (I was writing a bit under time pressure, and illustrations weren’t my highest priority… ;-P), but is meant to be a picture of a Klein bottle – a figure I’ve occasionally toyed with using in place of the ouroboros as the basis for the site logo…

The animated image in this post – which is from Konrad Polthier’s article “Imaging Maths: Inside the Klein Bottle” in +plus magazine – provides a somewhat clearer sense of what a Klein bottle is. I know several people who lurk here who could explain the concept of a Klein bottle more easily and clearly (and accurately!!!) than I can… Perhaps one of them will step forward and bail me out here… ;-P But let me embarrass myself a bit first, to give them something to correct.

The basic idea is that a Klein bottle, like a möbius strip, is non-orientable – a concept that I won’t outline here (among other things, because this concept is easier to see than to read about): the Polthier article provides a nice illustration. In our everyday three-dimensional space, non-orientable objects appear to have only one side. So, in terms of the animated image in this post, if you were walking along the path mapped by the möbius strip then, at any given point along your journey, it might appear that you are moving across an object that has another “side”. As you continue to move along the surface, however, you will eventually reach what earlier appeared to be that “other” side without having to cross through a surface or clamber over an edge.

While all of this is quite cool to try to visualise, and non-orientable images – particularly möbius strips, but also the occasional Klein bottle – seem to crop up quite regularly as illustrations in social theoretic discussions of immanence, the underlying mathematics has no real implications for the social theoretic discussions about there being no transcendent “outside” from which to view our social experience or history… Nevertheless, there’s a nice aesthetic, metaphoric resonance between the social theoretic and mathematical concepts, which does no harm as long as it’s recognised as such… I tend to like the Klein bottle as a metaphor due to its various strange properties, as described in the Polthier article:

The bottle is a one-sided surface – like the well-known Möbius band – but is even more fascinating, since it is closed and has no border and neither an enclosed interior nor exterior.

And Wikipedia:

Picture a bottle with a hole in the bottom. Now extend the neck. Curve the neck back on itself, insert it through the side of the bottle without touching the surface (an act which is impossible in three-dimensional space), and extend the neck down inside the bottle until it joins the hole in the bottom. A true Klein bottle in four dimensions does not intersect itself where it crosses the side.

Unlike a drinking glass, this object has no “rim” where the surface stops abruptly. Unlike a balloon, a fly can go from the outside to the inside without passing through the surface (so there isn’t really an “outside” and “inside”).

So we have a closed but borderless surface with no inside or outside, which can be embedded only in a four-dimensional space – not a terrible metaphor for the object of an immanent historical theory… ;-P

If anyone is looking for some holiday procrastination opportunities (or do we not have to call it “procrastination”, since it’s the holidays?), Beyond the Third Dimension has some nice animations of Klein bottles, including some interactive ones, as does the Polthier article referenced above.

Anyone needing ideas for belated Christmas presents (or perhaps looking forward to Valentine’s Day…) might consider purchasing a three dimensional immersion of a Klein bottle from Acme Klein Bottles – a company which, I note, also offers “industrial and post-industrial consulting”, boasts about its “finite but unbounded warehouse”, and displays diverse mottos, including “where yesterday’s future is here today!”, “since 1995, imposing on the impossible!”, and – my personal favourite – “where there’s one side to every problem!”

Even if you don’t intend to buy, I’d still recommend browsing the Acme Klein Bottles website – the “Important Information for Idiots” section might be a good starting point (not to imply anything about my readership, mind you… ;-P). It’s also worth checking out Acme’s pioneering lifetime guarantee – something that I suspect you might be able to convince them to extend to you, even if you don’t purchase a Klein bottle.

[Updated to add: my son noticed the animation on my laptop, and came over to have a look. He asked what it was called, and then stared, fascinated, for around fifteen minutes. He finally turned to me, all concern and wrinkled brow, and anxiously asked: “There’s no end to the bottle?! Where’s the end of the bottle??”]

[Note: animated gif @2003 Konrad Polthier from +plus magazine “Imaging maths – Inside the Klein Bottle: Klein Bottle with Möbius Band” September 2003.]

Holding Our Thought in Time

Klein BottleSo as promised (funny how I seem able to keep certain promises, but not others… ;-P): a bad post on the preface to Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit, written to satisfy LM’s infectious tease that suggested this was a new year in need of an appropriately symbolic commemoration…

I probably should tuck the content below the fold, as this post is somewhat long, and I’m not really sure how a post this primitive could spark discussion, even among the two of us still around to workshop this text on Wednesday… (I suppose, from LM’s point of view, this post might at least provide some ammunition to take into that discussion – a compensation for tipping me off about Popper some weeks ago… ;-P) But in this quiet time of the year, and with this post no doubt soon to be overshadowed by the more interesting revisitation of the Derrida-Searle debate in a couple of days, I’ll refrain from trying to hide my undercooked reading… ;-P

Anyone wanting to double-check the context for the passages I quote below, who doesn’t have a copy of Phenomenology ready to hand, can consult one of the many online versions of that text. Quotations and paragraph references below are taken from the version at gwfhegel.org – mainly because that’s the first source I stumbled across – and, for those interested, is formatted for side-by-side display of English and German texts.

Okay. Since I’m extremely unlikely to go beyond the most obvious points in this reading, I’ll try to focus on stating the obvious as clearly as possible (this approach has the beneficial side effect of making it much easier for someone to criticise me, if what I take to be “obvious” is, instead, obviously wrong… ;-P). I’ll also quote quite a lot of Hegel’s own text – if for no other reason than to give a sense for how I’m interpreting specific passages – and perhaps as a small demonstration of how some words, at least, do not seem to speak for themselves… ;-P

Hegel tells us, repeatedly, how to read the preface: we should read it, he instructs, as a performative contradiction. Although Hegel wishes to tip his hand and foreshadow the implications of his approach, he warns us from the first paragraph of the risk that the form of philosophical presentation might be inadequate to its content:

In philosophy, on the other hand, it would at once be felt incongruous were such a method made use of and yet shown by philosophy itself to be incapable of grasping the truth. (1)

He then repeats this admonition periodically throughout the text, worrying that his form might in places appear dogmatic:

When we state the true form of truth to be its scientific character – or, what is the same thing, when it is maintained that truth finds the medium of its existence in notions or conceptions alone – I know that this seems to contradict an idea with all its consequences which makes great pretensions and had gained widespread acceptance and conviction at the present time. A word of explanation concerning this contradiction seems, therefore, not out of place, even though at this stage it can amount to no more than a dogmatic assurance exactly like the view we are opposing. (6 – italics mine)

And stressing in other places that his claims only anticipate the more thorough grounding that needs to follow:

What is here stated describes in effect the essential principle; but cannot stand for more at this stage than an assertion or assurance by way of anticipation. The truth it contains is not to be found in this exposition, which is in part historical in character. (57 – italics mine)

He also flags the kind of presentation that would be required in order to render the form of presentation adequate to its content:

Abolishing the form of the proposition must not take place only in an immediate manner, through the mere content of the proposition. On the contrary, we must give explicit expression to the cancelling process; it must be not only that internal restraining and confining of thought within its own substance; this turning of the conception back into itself has to be expressly brought out and stated. This process, which constitutes what formerly had to be accomplished by proof, is the internal dialectic movement of the proposition itself. This alone is the concrete speculative element, and only the explicit expression of this is a speculative systematic exposition. Qua proposition, the speculative aspect is merely the internal restriction of thought within its own substance where the return of the essential principle into itself is not yet brought out. Hence we often find philosophical expositions referring us to the inner intuition, and thus dispensing with the systematic statement of the dialectical movement of the proposition, which is what we wanted all the while. The proposition ought to express what the truth is: in its essential nature the truth is subject: being so, it is merely the dialectical movement, this self-producing course of activity, maintaining its advance by returning back into itself. In the case of knowledge in other spheres this aspect of expressly stating the internal nature of the content is constituted by proof. When dialectic, however, has been separated from proof, the idea of philosophical demonstration as a matter of fact has vanished altogether. (65 – note that this analysis continues for several subsequent paragraphs that I have chosen not to reproduce here…)

How are we to understand such passages? Why is the form of presentation so important? Why is it so apparently problematic to “cut to the chase” – to state, clearly and directly, the conclusions or principal claims of this approach?

The answer lies in the kind of critique Hegel seeks to make of competing approaches – a critique that involves embedding conflicting philosophical approaches within an overarching historical vision that seeks to grasp the development of philosophy as an organic process, one in which philosophical systems “contradict” one another in the specific sense of displacing one another over time, but in which each contradictory element still represents a necessary moment within a dynamic unity. Hegel’s approach represents a form – not, I would suggest, the only possible form – of an immanent approach to philosophy – of an attempt to account for how philosophical insight might be grounded without assuming a sharp ontological divide between thinking subjects and objective truth.

From Hegel’s particular understanding of an immanent perspective, static notions of the truth or falsehood of philosophical systems can be criticised with reference to how they obscure our awareness of the historical necessity of particular systems, how they keep us from perceiving particular systems as intrinsic moments within a dynamic historical process whose movement simultaneously presupposes, contradicts, and surpasses superceded forms of philosophical thought. Yet simply asserting such a critique – baldly laying forth this conclusion as a verdict, as a stance – falls behind the very kind of historical insight other approaches are being criticised for lacking. As Hegel notes:

The easiest thing of all is to pass judgments on what has a solid substantial content; it is more difficult to grasp it, and most of all difficult to do both together and produce the systematic exposition of it. (3)

Once philosophy moves to a position that claims itself to be embedded and immanent, the weight of philosophical analysis shifts. The most difficult problem comes to be, not arriving at a conclusion or judgment, but accounting for how that conclusion or judgment becomes immanently available. Understanding the process of philosophical thought immanently – in Hegel’s terms, as a form of mediation, rather than as either a beginning or an endpoint – becomes a central philosophical concern.

In the preface, Hegel thus repeatedly worries that, by flagging what other positions miss – where they fall short – he participates in a form of argument that itself falls afoul of the content of his critique. So Hegel criticises, for example, both sterile formalism – which attempts to categorise experience with reference to external categories that are not immanent to the experience being analysed – and, its mirror image, the attempt to embrace experience directly, in what Hegel calls “unbroken immediacy” (4) – arguing that both approaches fail to ground their judgments, because they neglect the problem of mediation. Yet Hegel is troubled by his presentation of this critique, because its content – the emphasis on immanence and mediation – sits in an awkward contradiction with the form in which the critique is expressed. He therefore struggles against his own text, repeatedly reminding the reader of the work that will need to be done before this critique can be adequately grounded within the framework he intends to unfold. He foregrounds that he must ultimately achieve a more consistent and adequate account of the critiques he can offer here only in the form of promissory notes. Later, via a more adequate exposition, he must pay the bill – by demonstrating how his own position – his ability to perceive the immanent and historical character of philosophical insight, and thus ground his judgments of competing approaches – has itself been immanently achieved.

But this discussion is making me feel that I am failing in my goal of presenting obvious points clearly… ;-P I’ve mentioned in other discussions that I seem to have terrible difficulty expressing this point (which, at its core, also applies to notions of immanence that otherwise share very little with Hegel’s conception)…

Rather than persisting with my lack of clarity on this point, I’ll break the discussion here and, since in a post I lose all hope of covering this text in an adequate way, just quickly gesture at one further issue that might be of interest in the reading group discussion: the peculiar understanding of “science” that serves as a kind of normative ideal for philosophy in this text. Hegel’s concept of “science” – and I won’t go into detail on this issue here, but only flag the point – appears integrally and, in light of subsequent social theory, interestingly bound together with the search for a form of universal that can grasp the particular within itself. “Scientific” thought is thus contrasted, in this text, to forms of thought that invoke more abstract notions of universality – expressed, for example, in abstract formalism, syllogistic logic, or mathematics – approaches that Hegel rejects as models for scientific philosophy because they would involve imposing an extrinsic classificatory system or analytical procedure that, because it is external to experience, could never connect the subject to its object in anything other than an arbitrary way. The concept of “science” seems to align most closely with the study of organic processes and of history – understood in terms of their need to grasp a kind of unfolding, immanent, developmental logic. Philosophy reaches the status of a science, in Hegel’s account, when it ceases to apply external forms of thought instrumentally to what are conceived as distinct and passive objects of analysis, but instead wields analytical categories grasped through the analysis of its own immanent position within an unfolding developmental trajectory.

Hegel’s appeal to notions of a developmental logic of history has fallen on unsympathetic times – both in the sense that we are now much more sceptical of whether such a developmental logic could be said to exist, particularly cross-culturally and across the long sweep of human history, and in the sense that we have learned to be wary of claims that aligning ourselves with such a logic would be a desirable moral goal. If, as Hegel suggests, “it is the nature of truth to force its way to recognition when the time comes” (71), then perhaps history has driven us past the moment when we could be seduced by the prospect of philosophy as a project of “holding our time in thought”, or as a project that would entail aligning ourselves with some unfolding logic of history.

At the same time, however, elements of Hegel’s critical perspective continue to resonate: many of us accept, I suspect, the thesis of immanance – and, like Hegel, are then caught up in the logical implications of this thesis for the form of philosophical argument in which we need to engage to be adequate to this insight. Many of us would also value, I suspect, alternatives to empty formalism – and yet also reject the mirror image of formalism, expressed in claims to privileged access to direct revelation. These shared concerns drive us to continue to think about how we might conceptualise subjects as the subjects of their object – and how we might grasp, self-reflexively, the ways in which our own historical experiences have made it possible for us to achieve these insights at this moment in time. We can therefore still recognise key elements of Hegel’s questions in ourselves and in our times.

Perhaps it is possible – and this is the question I would like to suspend in the background as the reading group continues to move through this text – to preserve much of what is valuable from Hegel’s approach, while moving away from the idealism that sees the present time as the culmination of a purposive and meaningful historical trajectory. If we no longer believe that we can – or should – seek to hold our time in thought, perhaps our current goal should be to ask how we might hold our thought in time: how we might best recognise the debts our philosophy owes, not to a long-term, linear form of historical progress that has incrementally generated cumulative knowledge that we can now harvest, but to a complex and contradictory contemporary historical moment whose unintentional insights we may need to appropriate with great caution. Perhaps, as Benjamin suggests, such an appropriation might require:

…a process of empathy whose origin is the indolence of the heart, acedia, which despairs of grasping and holding the genuine historical image as it flares up briefly. Among medieval theologians it was regarded as the root cause of sadness… The nature of this sadness stands out more clearly if one asks with whom the adherents of historicism actually empathize. The answer is inevitable: with the victor… There is no document of civilization which is not at the same time a document of barbarism. And just as such a document is not free of barbarism, barbarism taints also the manner in which it was transmitted from one owner to another. A historical materialist therefore dissociates himself from it as far as possible. He regards it as his task to brush history against the grain.

What might it look like to appropriate Hegel within an approach that seeks to brush history against the grain? How might we seek to acknowledge our great debt to our historical experience, while also viewing recent history as both nonrandom and blind? What might it mean to grasp historical patterns, not as something pointing us toward perfection, or as something whose realisation we should seek, but as constitutive moments of a mindless juggernaut that – although devoid of all meaning and intention – has generated the potential for us to break with a particular practice and a specific experience of history? Hegel argues:

…it is not difficult to see that our epoch is a birth-time, and a period of transition. The spirit of man has broken with the old order of things hitherto prevailing, and with the old ways of thinking, and is in the mind to let them all sink into the depths of the past and to set about its own transformation… That it is tottering to its fall is indicated only by symptoms here and there. Frivolity and again ennui, which are spreading in the established order of things, the undefined foreboding of something unknown – all these betoken that there is something else approaching. The gradual crumbling to pieces, which did not alter the general look and aspect of the whole, is interrupted by the sunrise, which, in a flash and at a single stroke, brings to view the form and structure of the new world.(11)

In what senses can our time be experienced and practised as a transition? In what senses can it be experienced and practised as a break? A path into both questions, perhaps, lies in our developing a firmer grasp of what would be required to construct an historically immanent social theory. And this is, perhaps, not an altogether inappropriate task for reflection on a symbolically-laden new year’s eve… 😉

[Note: Klein bottle image reproduced from Wikipedia, where the image has been licensed under a GNU Free Documentation License. For more information, please visit the image’s Wikipedia page.]

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