Radical Eyes Returns!–Towards a Language of Liberation

So after a bit of a hiatus, I am resolving to reactivate this “Radical Eyes” blog.

My goal is put up at least a couple of items per week, including both articles by others that I find useful, and posts of my own.

In light of unfolding events in Egypt, across the Arab world, and even in places like Madison, Wisconsin (!) it is more important than ever to be working to cultivate radical eyes, that is, to “dig down to see the roots of things.”  And to share –and to test and to enrich–that understanding by making it available to others. 

My hope is that this blog can be a place where I can make a modest contribution to that broader effort to radicalize our social discourse, in the hopes, of course,  that by cultivating radical eyes we brng ourselves closer not just to a scientific understanding of the world around us, but a practical and revolutionary standpoint from which we can change it, root and branch.

The right concepts, the right words, the right vision give us means by which we can grasp the world, and through which we can build unity, organization, and movement with others who share our language of liberation.  Hopefully this blogspace will be a place where myself and others can make progress towards finding and sharing the right radical words and concepts, that proper radical vision.

Slogan of the Day: “Let the Spirit of Tahrir Square Blossom Everywhere!”

-Joe

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“The Low Road” by Marge Piercy

Since the onset of the dark ages after 9/11/01, this poem has spoken to me.
A professor, friend, and comrade of mine read it aloud at an anti-war moratorium
as US forces invaded Iraq.  That was the first time I'd heard of it.
As far as I can tell, the most accessible web-versions of it both contain typos.  
So I thought I would put it up here, without error.

*******************************************
The Low Road

What can they do
to you? Whatever they want.
They can set you up, they can
bust you, they can break
your fingers, they can
burn your brain with electricity,
blur you with drugs till you
can t walk, can’t remember, they can
take your child, wall up
your lover. They can do anything
you can’t stop them
from doing. How can you stop
them? Alone, you can fight,
you can refuse, you can
take what revenge you can
but they roll over you.

But two people fighting
back to back can cut through
a mob, a snake-dancing file
can break a cordon, an army
can meet an army.

Two people can keep each other
sane, can give support, conviction,
love, massage, hope, sex.
Three people are a delegation,
a committee, a wedge. With four
you can play bridge and start
an organisation. With six
you can rent a whole house,
eat pie for dinner with no
seconds, and hold a fund raising party.
A dozen make a demonstration.
A hundred fill a hall.
A thousand have solidarity and your own newsletter;
ten thousand, power and your own paper;
a hundred thousand, your own media;
ten million, your own country.

It goes on one at a time,
it starts when you care
to act, it starts when you do
it again after they said no,
it starts when you say We
and know who you mean, and each
day you mean one more.
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Zizek on Avatar: Form Negates Content?

You can find Slavoj Zizek’s recent critique of Avatar here:  http://kasamaproject.org/2010/03/07/zizek-on-avatar/#comment-21655

Zizek, Avatar And The Dialectic Of Fantasy

 March 14, 2010

“…[T]here seems to be what we might call a certain determinism of form at work in Zizek’s readings here … As if the family, sexual, and/or racial narrative structures of these films totally trump any sort of resistant content.  As if WHAT the film is saying is totally trumped by HOW it is saying it.  As if there is only one type of viewer’s gaze engaging these works … As if the social reception of a film is not a highly over-determined and contradictory affair…”

Thoughts on Zizek on Avatar: Form determines content?

By J. Ramsey

On one level, Zizek seems to revel in reading texts against the grain; in showing that the true significance of cultural works is just the opposite of what one would have assumed.

Is this sheer perversity, or is there a method to this mode of reading?

Generally speaking, Zizek tends to be critical of cultural works that—whatever their ostensibly radical or progressive contents—he perceives as domesticating the (traumatic) Real of social contradiction.  He is especially wary of those works that appear to him to smooth over or package political conflict with the trappings of Oedipal or romantic love plots.

So then he is critical of Avatar for the way that its avatar-fantasy, imaginary-escapist (two worlds) structure allows for an oh-so-seamless insertion of a white settler colonist soldier into the ranks of the eco-friendly blue native Na’vi, a process of course facilitated by the predictable love story, between Jake Sully and the warrior Princess.

Indeed, he does seem to make this process seem more seamless than I recall it being in the actual film…

For instance, Zizek writes: “If we really want to change or escape our social reality, the first thing to do is change our fantasies that make us fit this reality. Because the hero of Avatar doesn’t do this, his subjective position is what Jacques Lacan, with regard to de Sade, called le dupe de son fantasme.”

But is it the case that Jake Sully does NOT change his fantasy? Does his basic subjective orientation remain simply escapist? Do the Na’vi remain objects within this fantasy rather than subjects offering him (and us) new (communal, ecologically sound) fantasies, ones in more contradictory relation to the postmodern imperialist hyper-capitalism of 2010?

Yes, as Zizek points out, the film, in the end gives Jake Sully his legs back, letting him fully assume the form of a Na’vi. (Certainly, it would have been really interesting had the film NOT gone this way, and had left us with a reminder of the gap between Sully and the Na’vi.)

But really Jake does not know that such a transformation is possible or likely earlier in the film. Indeed, it is the Colonel on the military base that promises him his legs back, in exchange for his loyal service as an avatar-spy. Thus we might say that Sully’s siding with the Na’vi is in some sense not only that of a “race/empire traitor” but of a “revolutionary suicide” (and rebirth)…He gives up hope of getting his own legs back and ironically thus finds new and better, living legs.

Perhaps, what Zizek is saying is that even though Sully cannot know it literally, we—the viewing public—DO intuit the possibility of his being restored to his full and healthy self through his encounter with (and appropriation of) Na’vi culture. As proper subjects of Hollywood ideology, we have been trained to see the happy ending coming.  In this view, the film’s romantic sexual ideology may make this neat union a foregone conclusion.

But is it really so neat? The Na’vi do challenge Jake Sully, in various ways, and they do fight back, killing their enemies. They do not simply agree to peaceful coexistence. Nor are they offered up as feel good martyrs or noble savages, redeemed only in their inevitable passing away. They defend themselves, and their world… by any means necessary.

Furthermore, Sully’s passing point that “there is no more green” left on earth reflects back on our own present, prompting us to wonder what the world may look in the future if mining companies (like the ones Zizek tracks in Orissa) have their way. (This point about the preciousness and vulnerability of our world is one that has been echoed by many of the people involved in the making of Avatar, in interviews and awards-ceremony speeches.)

Certainly there is something very interesting and ironic about a film that uses hundreds of millions of dollars worth of state of the art digital space-age technology and virtual reality computer programs to offer us all a collective fantasy of “going native” and going “back to nature.”…Zizek is on to something, sure.

Nonetheless, there seems to be what we might call a certain determinism of form at work in Zizek’s readings here (and elsewhere, for instance in his treatment of REDS). As if the family, sexual, and/or racial narrative structures of these films totally trump any sort of resistant content. As if WHAT the film is saying is totally trumped by HOW it is saying it. As if there is only one type of viewer’s gaze engaging these works…As if the social reception of a film is not a highly over-determined and contradictory affair…

What, I wonder, does Zizek make for instance of those Chinese workers and Palestinian protesters who have been dressing in blue like the Na’vi so as to draw global media attention to their real world struggles?

Certainly Zizek does draw out an important point when he emphasizes how actually existing revolutionary resistance—he references the Naxalite Maoists who are currently under state assault in India (an encouraging sign of Zizek’s own political trajectory)—will tend to appear, at least from within the frames of dominant reactionary media, as horrifying, frightening, etc…as “terrorism,” not some easily accessible “princess love story.” No doubt it would have been provocative and productive for viewers of the film if Avatar had shown us slick public relations representatives of the Empire labeling Na’vi resistance “terrorism,” or if the military Colonel had not been rendered so cartoonishly evil. The film might have even shown us elements within the Na’vi who wanted to actually engage in “terrorism” or “suicide attacks” as a way of driving out the invaders.

As has been discussed on Kasama already, there are many ways that one could imagine Avatar going further to expose the traumatic nature of such actually existing social conflicts and oppressed people’s struggles.

But, in the end, does the aesthetic/formal mode of getting viewers to identify with and root for the Na’vi in their struggle against the Empire utterly negate the basic political coordinates of that anti-imperial sympathy? Zizek seems to think so.

Is there something to be said for a film that gets hundreds of millions of people, in this country and across the world, to cheer for the destruction of forces that, by Zizek’s own admission, can easily be seen as representatives of the (US) “military-industrial complex”? Zizek seems to think not.

I would tend to disagree with him on both counts.

To illuminate the point, consider an imaginary scenario:

If I were a Hollywood-loving US or Israeli or Indian soldier asked to move upon or even fire upon poor people protesting my presence, and I saw those people dressed as Na’vi, isn’t there at least a chance that I would have a subversive thought or two before I obeyed the order to fire at will?

Cultural texts are often more contradictory than Zizek allows.  Furthermore, these contradictions can be not just disabling but productive, as they enter a world that is itself, yes, full of social contradictions. In a contradictory world, sometimes a romance plot may facilitate, rather than disable, rebel thinking, and—it stands to reason—action.

Not only radical is the rebel whose total rejection of imperialism appears—through the lens of dominant ideology—as “terrorism”, but also the rebel, labeled as a “red terrorist,” who paints himself in Na’vi blue to elicit sympathy from those who have been trained to hate and fear him.

My point is not to suggest that AVATAR bars people from reading it in variously domesticated ways that obscure its anti-imperial message. (Can any film really prevent such limited reading in advance?…Even the most shocking and formally provocative film is potentially, even inevitably, subjected to reified and even reactionary appropriations in this society.) My point is simply that, moreso than Zizek would lead us to believe, these symbols and narrative figures remain a terrain of struggle, open to appropriation in various ways…including radical ones.

Finally, this recognition of the irreducibly social, historical, and dialectical nature of both cultural objects and the social subjects that read them, in fact places a greater responsibility on radical critics, than does Zizek’s provocative—and often illuminating—formally determinist approach. For our task is not simply to give a particular text the theoretical “thumbs up” or “thumbs down” by establishing its formal limits, but to supplely and all-sidedly engage with such contradictory cultural materials, in concrete historical contexts. With real people. In the real world.

As Zizek ought to know, such work requires not simply rising above popular fantasies, but working through them.

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Thoughts on Alain Badiou: Hard Talk

J. Ramsey: Thoughts on Badiou’s HardTalk Interview

Originally posted at Kasama Project  http://kasamaproject.org/2009/04/06/j-ramsey-thoughts-on-badious-hardtalk-interview/

HardTalk with Alain Badiou:
Some Thoughts on the Contradictions of Representing to the People a Truth-Process in the Making

“Grateful as we may be—I certainly am—for the “space for thought” that Badiou’s philosophy seeks to make, and for the legitimacy his voice may lend to discussions of communism and rebellion (in academic circles, and perhaps beyond them), we must not turn into mere fellow-travelling “fans” of his philosophy… Chief among these concerns is the way in which Badiou seems to me to concede too much in assenting to the idea (here articulated by the BBC host) that 20th century experiences with Communism amounted, basically, to “nothing but failure” and ‘authoritarianism.’ ”

“Nicholas Brown writes: ‘Despite every protestation to the contrary, Badiou’s system cannot address the question ‘What is to be done?’ because the only thing to do is to wait for the Event. What happens when the precipitation of the Event is precisely what needs to be done?’”

By J. Ramsey

Watching a major radical intellectual appear on TV may raise high our hopes. So rarely are progressive, not to speak of radical—let alone communist!—perspectives acknowledged—let alone invited to speak at length—within bourgeois mass media; a radical gets excited upon learning that one of “ours” has broken through to center stage. It’s easy to invest heavily in such a figure’s performance.

On the other hand, it is all too easy for the radical philosopher once out on that stage to disappoint. Unschooled in the art of the sound-byte and tending towards long-windedness, the “professor” is likely to meander onto “enemy terrain,” spending those precious, quick-ticking public minutes bogged down in concocted “controversies,”—allegations of anti-Semitism vs. Sarkozy for instance—or else trailing off into a discourse on the details of some half-obscure concept, losing the forest for the trees…The essence of the matter too often goes unmarked; the call to action which we long to hear proclaimed through the captured bourgeois bullhorn goes unsounded.

Truly though, no matter how well one performs in the three or five or twenty minute segment, there always remains so much more to say…so much more that ought to have, that must be said—an entire system to expose and to overthrow, in thought (not to speak of action)! Eventually, even on the BBC, they cut, if not to commercial, then to the regularly scheduled programming. The system remains in place, as the professor and host shake hands. And the lights go out.

One finishes viewing the above interview with the sense that Alain Badiou, has much more to say to us, that he is just, at the end, warming up…And yet that said, one can, from this HardTalk interview catch at least a glimpse of why Badiou is an important thinker today, why he is relevant to the project of grasping the radical possibilities of our present moment, and why he is someone that those of us interested in communism and revolution should be “keeping our eye on.” He is someone whom we should be engaging openly and actively, on a number of levels, with care, but also, I would argue, critically.

What is Dominant is Not Therefore Legitimate

To my thinking, Badiou’s work as a critic of his immediate situation (and of contemporary discourse) is of more clear and immediate value than his more ponderous theorizing. Badiou has done brilliant work exposing the contradictions, limitations, and hypocrisies that are embedded in dominant modes of contemporary thought, (including electoralism, liberal multiculturalism, and humanitarianism, including the discourse of human rights). In numerous realms he has challenged—often eviscerated – reigning “common sense,” in a way that is informed by a global, egalitarian, anti-imperialist, and more recently, a communist perspective.

We see his critical challenge to reigning practice in a few places here on HardTalk. His argument that the role of philosophers and philosophy is not to accept the ways of the world precisely because of the way the world now is, for example, is refreshing and admirable…and, it seems to me, all to rare in philosophical circles.

He states:

“Never accept something as legitimate [just] because it is dominant.”

That Badiou extends this philosophical refusal to the “electoral mandates” recently recorded through “democratic” politics in France puts his refusal some ways ahead of many so-called “radicals” in this country, who often shore up popular belief in the promise of “American democracy” even while mounting radical criticisms of US government and society.

In this clip above, Badiou offers a number of insights that need to be heard on the Left.

For instance, while he argues that the recent crisis signals “the end of a certain sequence” in which the present social system is proclaimed to be “the best of all possible worlds,” he refuses to predict that this crisis will necessarily or easily (on their own) lead to opportunities for radical transformation. He points out quite properly, (as did Mike Davis in the previous interview posted on Kasama) that such moments of crisis have often ushered in great disasters; the unmistakable specter here of course, is that of 1930s fascism. This represents an important cautionary check on knee-jerk leftist “optimism” that too quickly points out—like a disaster capitalist trying to make a score—that a moment of “crisis” translates into a moment of “opportunity.”

In a different vein, Badiou’s smiling, grandfatherly acceptance that much of his radical conviction is at present based in little more than “faith”, but that “faith may be a great thing sometime” poses a healthy challenge to dogmatic “scientistic” Marxisms that clings to a narrow and vulgar secularism.

Evaluating Our “First Attempts”

Moving towards the heart of the matter, Badiou’s pointing out that the mere fact that the “first attempts” to achieve communism “failed” does not in any way amount to a proving of the idea itself to be false or in itself impossible to reach is refreshing to the ear, even as it grants too much to the enemy camp in terms of the actual record of the 20th century with respect to Communism.

But it might as well be said: there are several elements here, elements not attributable to the confines of the interview-form, that leave me unsatisfied, and that, I think, ought to leave us unsatisfied. These dissatisfactions indicate zones of concern not just with Badiou-as-mediated-through-HardTalk, but with Badiou’s thought and his approach to reclaiming Communism (or the “communist hypothesis” as he prefers to call it) more broadly. Grateful as we may be—I certainly am—for the “space for thought” that Badiou’s philosophy seeks to make, and for the legitimacy his voice may lend to discussions of communism and rebellion (in academic circles, and perhaps beyond them), we must not turn into mere fellow-travelling “fans” of his philosophy. Certainly not just because he is the one on TV.

Chief among these concerns is the way in which Badiou seems to me to concede too much in assenting to the idea (here articulated by the BBC host) that 20th century experiences with Communism amounted, basically, to “nothing but failure” and “authoritarianism.”

As if there was only “tragedy,” none but pyrrhic victories, in these long struggles, as if any lessons that 20th century Communists may offer us today are only negative ones, lessons in “exhaustion” and “saturation,” as if the true core of communism is to be reconstructed only by returning to its “primitive” sequence, to the work of Marx and other 19th century thinkers.

Granted, this on-air concession with respect to “actually existing” socialism and Communism (with that frightening capital “C”), may be in part a tactical maneuver. (And also it is worth noting that for Badiou “tragedy” is in some ways a term of respect or even honor, one that places the “tragic” experience of 20th Communism far closer to Badiou’s notion of the “good” than the cowardly, cynical, anemic, and ultimately “nihilist” crusading for “human rights” and “democracy” that characterizes the dominant “politics” our present moment—see his Ethics, for more on this.)

Nonetheless this maneuvering should give us pause. Tactics have a way of becoming strategy. And strategy determines where one is ultimately going.

Of course it is clear to those who are somewhat familiar with Badiou’s work, (including essays published in Positions and in his book Polemics, or even his recent essay in New Left Review ) that he has in fact conducted a rather rich exploration of these twentieth century revolutions—in particular the Chinese Cultural Revolution.

Badiou has spilled considerable ink on the struggles and experiments involved with these emancipatory events. Indeed his narrative of the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution (in the closing chapter of Polemics) is quite a bit more sympathetic and nuanced than he here lets on. But you wouldn’t know it from the interview.

In truth, a close reading of his recent and influential article from New Left Review, “The Communist Hypothesis,”  while it demonstrates Badiou’s broader engagement with what he calls the communist “sequences” of both the 19th and 20th centuries, further suggests this communist’s limited use for the 20th century Communist movement.

Consider for example, the end of that article, wherein Badiou sketches the outlines of the coming “3rd sequence” of communist politics, a 21st century project which he argues

“will involve a new relation between the political movement and the level of the ideological.”

Badiou writes that this new sequence must

“still retain the theoretical and historical lessons that issued from the first sequence, and the centrality of victory that issued from the second [emphasis added].”

Perhaps I am about to make too much of one line here. But Badiou seems to me to be implying that while there is much to be learned from studying the 19th century sequence, the essential element to retain from the 20th century sequence is not to be had by studying these revolutions—in their particularities, their successes, innovations, setbacks, defeats, as well as failures—but rather by appreciating the sheer will to victory that they represented (and keeping fidelity to that).

But is this the extent of what this revolutionary record (Lenin and Mao and many others, including, I would argue many American communists and socialists of the 20th century) has to offer us?

Similarly his claim in the same essay that our present situation cannot be addressesed adequately simply by “revising the methods” of the second communist sequence, turns on something of a straw-man argument, once one recognizes that Badiou has not here (or to my knowledge elsewhere) clearly defined what exactly the “methods” of the 20th century communist movements were, in any sort of situated particularity.

Certainly it would be dogmatic foolishness to think that the methods of the Bolsheviks or of the CCP (or of the CPUSA) can simply be dug up, dusted off, gripped tight, and “applied” in some immediate way to our present, unfolding situation.

As John Steele points out in his recent post, our conditions have changed—though they are not I would argue altogether “new”—and hence so too have even those “traditional ideas” changed in relationship to this altered situation, even where they would “stay the same.” Admittedly, in contrast to the stale odor of mechanical MLM(A) Badiou’s openness to the new and the unexpected feels like a breath of fresh air.

But let’s not throw the baby out with the bathwater either.

Until one has engaged in a situated critique of the “method(s)” represented and deployed by the 20th century communist movement, how can one possibly reach a verdict (and a sweeping one at that) as to such “methods” and their “uselessness” today? Badiou’s figure of the “iron discipline” of the Communist Party is barely the beginning of a description, let alone an analysis of “method” here; indeed, one might argue that it is a stock-figure that stands in the way of such a sober critique. In any event, I would like to see more—not less—critical re-examination of “actually existing” Communism of the 20th century, from Badiou and from others. (and again here, let me emphasize that I mean not only developments in the USSR or China, but elsewhere, including here in the USA, and that I mean not only the political lines of these movements but the social and cultural and mass work that they engaged in at all levels).

[Here it is perhaps worth noting that Slavoj Zizek takes a markedly different approach in is recent work, taking the 20th century attempts to construct socialism and Communism somewhat more seriously, albeit often in the mode of a provocateur…But I will leave a critical examination of Zizek’s defensive “reloading” of Communism and other “Lost Causes” for another time!]

A Red by Any Other Name…

When asked in this interview if he is, in fact, a “communist,” and then later, if he is in favor of “overthrowing the current system,” Badiou defers, opting instead to go on about how we need to “reconstruct a new idea” of communism, rather than proclaiming himself to be “one.”

No doubt this deferral can be justified in terms of Badiou’s own philosophical approach, which frames communism as a truth-process in the making, a sequence that does not as yet exist, but will have existed only through and after the (practical and theoretical) labor of bringing it into being, in fidelity to an Event, whose Event-ness is also yet-to-be-established. (Stephen Mauldin discusses this eloquently in his recent Kasama post.)

Still, I want to ask: Can the process of communism unfold (or become itself) without being represented, presumptuously, and indeed somewhat “prematurely” and in advance by those who seek to bring its truth into being? As if it actually existed, so to say?

Must we wait until communism has clearly “arrived” to call ourselves as such?

What does keeping fidelity to the event mean if not to dare “I am a communist” and yes even “I believe in the expropriation of the expropriators, the overthrow of the oppressive and exploitative social conditions and relations that stem from this system,” even when one has no guarantee at this moment as to what form this specter of communism will (have) taken, or for that matter, whether or not communism will ever in fact find a movement worthy of its name?

Indeed, does not the necessarily “performative” nature of such proclamations (about which Badiou has much to say) and the not-even-here-yet-ness of 21st century communism make this invocation of its name all the more vital? After all there would be no need for faith or fidelity (a key notion for Badiou, as has been pointed out) if communism were “there and ready for the taking”?

Need Revolutionary Theorists

Badiou addresses this paradox, of the name that precedes the thing named, with respect to the French May 1968. Talk of “Revolution” at this moment, he points out, was pervasive, and yet what exactly “revolution” meant in that context—even as the students and workers were in the street—was anything but clear. Certainly the meaning of “Revolution” today would seem all the more unclear. I am tempted to credit Badiou, at least at the level of philosophical truth, for admitting as such.

And yet here I cannot help but recall a recurring joke in Slavoj Zizek’s recent work where he likens this type of philosophical call to re-think revolution to the doctor, who when called to bedside, after examining the patient, proclaims “What you really need is a doctor.”

Conceding that there are—there must be!—important elements of the communist hypothesis yet to be discerned or discovered let alone developed and detailed, is it not still safe to say that part of this unfolding process of reconstruction in theory and in practice necessitates involving the broad masses of people in an active, critical, radical interrogation of the present capitalist-imperialist system in which they now live?

And so then, when asked if he is in favor of overthrowing the current system, mightn’t Badiou and the truth-process that keeps fidelity to his communist hypothesis have been better served by proceeding dialectically, negatively, that is, by giving an account of all those things which he is fact in favor overthrowing or overcoming—even not knowing in advance what the positive form of this overthrowing will (have) take(n)?

One might start with the 1 billion people (predicted to grow to 2 billion as result of the current capitalist crisis) who chronically go hungry in the world; or the looming environmental catastrophe; or the tens of millions of people thrown out of work; or the growing disparities of wealth and power both between and within countries that characterize the present global system.

Badiou of course knows all of this well, and has even written at some length about, most if not all of these developments. The point is not to “teach Badiou” something about the current state of capitalism that he does not already know. The point is rather for us to consider the possibility that the very intrigue and open-ness, the principled refusal to declare one-self and to thereby in advance to potentially delimit the subject and object of the communist project, which is to say perhaps, the thing that makes Badiou’s communist hypothesis perhaps so inviting and refreshing to so many these days, may, at times, or in certain contexts—for instance, when trying to speak with everyday people, whether through mass media or in person—become something of a liability and an obstacle.

I am tempted here to probe deeper, with some help, for a more philosophical explanation for Badiou’s approach to some of these above issues. In contrasting Badiou’s ontological understanding of stasis and transformation (Being end Event) to the Hegelian dialectic, Nicholas Brown writes:

“Despite every protestation to the contrary, Badiou’s system cannot address the question ‘What is to be done?’ because the only thing to do is to wait for the Event. What happens when the precipitation of the Event is precisely what needs to be done?”

“Yes, we can be faithful to a previous event, as Badiou says Lenin was to the Paris Commune. But surely this solution mitigates the power of the Event as the irruption of the void into this situation. The dialectic, on the other hand, conceives the void as immanent contradiction. While both contradiction and void are immanent to the situation, contradiction has the tremendous advantage of having movement built in, as it were: the Event does not appear out of an immanent nowhere, but is already fully present in itself in the situation, which it explodes in the movement to for-itself.”

Presumably from a dialectical perspective then—one that Badiou does not hold—it would seem that “merely” describing (and popularizing the understanding of) the immanent dynamics of capitalism and what it is doing to the world today, could help to lay the basis for making the Event or Revolution possible  (helping the global proletariat to move closer from being a class “in itself” to a class “for itself” ).. Thus, that Badiou does not use his precious face-time with the masses on HardTalk to pursue this kind of critical elaboration, may not be just an expression of tactical considerations, let alone a coincidence.

Beyond philosophical justifications, of course, in more narrowly pragmatic (or tactical) sense, to “declare oneself” a communist in this way, especially absent a clearly defined movement with defensible program, party or leadership, runs the risk of provoking one’s audience, and not only in productive ways. As any self-identifying communist knows, to dub oneself a “red,” in “polite company” at least, risks bringing out all the old anti-communist myths, half-truths, accusations, and condemnations, along with here and there a legitimate concern about what became of the 20th century parties, movements, and states that went by that name.

Sometimes the resulting exchange yields more heat than light; often – in more “left” literate company — one will get lodged in debate about particular historical events and persons at the expense of neglecting the big picture of the communist movement in the 20th century, losing the chance to delve more deeply into the question of what communism could look like today. As Badiou points out, after all, we do have a much bigger, much more auspicious project on our hands than “merely” sorting out sectarian squabbles about the true nature of Soviet of Chinese socialism in the 1950s, etc.; we have a full-fledged communist response to the present situation to develop, to be listening for and helping to give voice and form to.

And yet the question arises as to whether deferring (or indeed, evading) such questions about the defeat or failure of socialism/communism in the 20th century in fact allows us to “move on to more important and pressing things” or whether it leads us to suppress crucial issues, bypassing a broad range of lessons that are there to be learned (positively and negatively) from this revolutionary experience. (And I am not just speaking of events in the Soviet Union or in China here.) This deferral threatens to cede the ground of history and practice to the enemy, taking haven in the realm of (pure) primitive theory, and even, as the BBC hosts points out, mere faith. Faith, as Badiou points out quite rightly, “can be a wonderful thing”—a point which many a “scientific” Marxist would do well to contemplate—but it is no substitute for critical historical analysis, (to which, yes, it remains a vital supplement).

Attention to the Situation

What will revolution or communism look like in the 21st century?

Badiou is reluctant to do more than gesture towards the increasingly crucial “ideological” sphere, and to negate (prematurely, I have argued) past “methods” and “saturated” concepts inherited from the previous communist sequence (“party-state” “class struggle” etc.). Beyond this he calls for re-conceptualizing communism, and for paying attention to the new forms of struggle and organization that are now emerging in the world.

This last is a crucial call: the imperative to closely attend to the actual movement of the people out in the world—movements past as well as present. It is a must that is much in keeping with Badiou’s call (in Ethics among other places) to keep fidelity not only to Events, but to situations as well. In fact one of the most powerful criticisms that Badiou levels against the reigning “ethical” discourse of human rights in Ethics is that such discourse tends to abstract from the historical and political singularity of concrete situations, chronicling the injuries of “victims” (posited as “passive”) by violators (understood as “evil”) in such a way as to make true political intervention in actual situations impossible (even while often smuggling neo-imperialist agendas into the mix).

Questions then, to close with: To what extent does Badiou’s work call us—and call others—to attend more and more closely to the situations that we are in? To what extent does it tend to call us away from this work of concrete and critical elaboration and into ungrounded abstraction and a new “ethical” formalism? Despite our changed conditions, does not the work of popularizing an immanent critique of capitalism still have a crucial role to play in bringing about the Event that we are waiting for? And how so does Badiou—in his work and in his spectacular persona—help (or hinder) us in doing this most vital communist work?

Such questions of course cannot be answered in the abstract or in thought alone, but only through a thoughtful engagement with present concrete situations, and with the people who make up those situations. 

Here the “old methods” of the “saturated second sequence,” including most notably mao’s development of the ”mass line,” would seem to remain of chief importance.  Certainly Badiou has yet to prove this crucial concept to be “exhausted.” Nor has his own practical “experimentation,” as far as I can tell, yet produced a method to replace the dialectic captured in the slogan: “from the masses, to the masses.” I for one, though tempted to delve deeper into Badiou, am not holding my breath on this one.

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Tired of being marginalized?….Prepare to be Radical-Eyes-ed!

Since I am, in a sense, starting this blog anew, I thought I would repost that *first* post I drew up about 18 months ago, with an added ending…

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Hello there, dear reader:

Welcome, to my new blog site, “Radical Eyes.”  My name is Joe Ramsey, and I will be your host for the moment, minutes, or months you spend reading through the material on this page.

Where shall we begin?

Well, perhaps I should start by saying that I’ve been meaning to get “out there” in the web-logging world for years now.  I’ve long been a writer, (of fiction, poetry, social criticism, film and book reviews, personal and political reflections, etc.) and yet really I have only ever published a tiny fraction of the work that I have produced.  Putting this writing directly on the web rather than letting it sit silently in my stacked notebooks has long seemed like a good idea.  My friends, family and even my wife have all encouraged me at various points to pursue this avenue.

But really it wasn’t until just last week that I got that final persuasive push that has me actually now creating this first wordpress account–though in truth, I am not at all yet certain of how to run one of these pages!–and now typing up this first (short) post.

That “push”  came from a stranger, whose name I still do not, and probably will never know.   

I was riding the T, the Red Line , in Boston where I reside, about a week ago.  I was returning home from work rather late (I teach at an area college) and had a book open on my lap.  The book, Theodor Adorno’s History and Freedom, was one that I had read before, as evidenced not only by the well-worn cover and spine, but by the extensive marginal markings and the underlinings that covered most of my text’s pages.  I was re-reading it, you see, (for the third time actually, altogether) as I am part of a reading group (a marx reading group or “mrg” as we call ourselves), who had decided to read this text for discussion at our next meeting.  (I hope in future posts to get more into this really exciting Adorno text, as well as into other material that our marx reading group has gotten into…but I digress…)  Suffice it to say I was reading intensively, marking the book (yet again!), this time in pencil, adding a third or fourth color shade to the already pen pocked paragraphs.

To get to the point, a gentleman sitting a few seats over from me  me–late forties to early fifties, thin and balding/shaven headed, dressed urban in black, vaguely metrosexual –leans over and says:

“I can tell just by looking at you that you have put more thought and effort into reading that book than the author ever put into writing it.” 

The comment took me aback.

Now as a point of fact, i don’t think that this gent was in fact correct…at least not as pertains to this particular author and book.  (Adorno I think had put a liftetime of learning and meticulous study, as well as writerly preparation before producing that particular work, a book of his lectures in fact.) But nonetheless, this gent very well could have been correct, had he accosted me on another train on another day, with another book held in my hands.  That is to say: I have spent a tremendous amount of time and energy in my life READING and carrying on an excited dialogue with (often long dead!) authors in the margins of texts of all sorts.  I have at times wondered if I spend so much time analyzing and responding to the writing of OTHERS that I do not give my own views the independent gravitational field that they deserve.  That I perhaps allow myself to become a critical satellite orbiting those who have come before.

The vast majority of the notes I make in the margins of course, never “make it” into any formal publication, or even into a draft on my computer, though they undoubtedly help me to clarify issues and to get a hold of  my thoughts for, say, a reading group meeting, or a class I’m about to teach, or for research, etc.  I often joke that I keep at least 3/4 (really it’s probably more like 90%!) of my memory in the books of my overflowing office book-shelves; if I had a fire in my apartment, I’d be like a cripple, without my precious (objectified, externalized) brain.   

Before my library goes up in a blaze then, I thought I would take some action.  And put my “marginal thoughts” out there for the world to see.

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To put it bluntly: I see no reason to continue to confine these thoughts, whether about texts I am reading, films I have watched, or political developments unfolding in the world around us to the margin’s of other people’s books.  (Or even for that matter, to other blogs, where I continue to participate…I’m a participant in the Kasama Project for instance: www.kasamaproject.org.)  Some of these rants, reflections, and rambles will make their way–I hope into more polished forms and into other ”official” venues.  Some will not.  Either way, I see little point in letting them gather quantum dust on my hardrive, or yellow in my desk.   

My hope is hat I will benefit from putting down these ideas in typed form, and also from sharing them–however fragmentary and unfinished they may be–with a broader public.  And I further hope that at least some of these thoughts on mine will be of  interest and of use to some of “you” out there.  (That is, once there is a “You” of which to speak!) 

So then, more on Adorno–about whom I’ve much to say–as well as many other topics: from revolutionary strategy, and Marx’s Capital, to reflections of Advertising culture, to comments on labor rallies I’ll be attending, to draft essays on humanitarian imperialism in Haiti, the politics of Avatar (about which I’ve already posted some below), and more…

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