Category: Volume 2 – Number 2 – January 1992

  • Anouncements & Advertisements

     

     

    Every issue of Postmodern Culture will carry notices of events, calls for papers, and other announcments, up to 250 words, free of charge. Advertisements will also be published on an exchange basis. Send anouncements and advertisements to: pmc@jefferson.village.virginia.edu

     


     

         Journal and Book Announcements:   
    
    1)   _Science Fiction Studies_ #55: Postmodernism and Science Fiction
    2)   _Thinknet_: an on-line magazine forum dedicated to thoughtfulness 
          in the cybertime environment
    3)   _Public Culture_: Shaping the debates about the tensions between 
         global cultural flows and public cultures in a diasporic world
    4)   _Differences_: A journal of feminist cultural studies
    5)   _Discourse_: Theoretical studies in media and culture
    6)   _Journal of Ideas_, Vol 2 #2/3: Contents
    7)   _Music and Connectionism_, edited by Peter M. Todd and D. Gareth 
         Loy (Cambridge, MA: MIT, 1991)
    8)   _Journal of Educational Multimedia and Hypermedia_: a publication 
         of The Association for the Advancement of Computing in Education
    9)   _Clinamens_: CLearinghouse INterdisciplinaire `Anglicisme et 
         Methodologie'de l'Ecole Normale Superieure
    
         Calls for Papers and Participants:
    
    10)  _RD: Graduate Research in the Arts_ -- call for papers on 
         language, literature, constructions of the self, the academy
    11)  _Languages and Literature_ -- call for papers on stylistics, 
         critical theory, linguistics, literary criticism and their 
         pedagogical applications
    12)  Call for papers on the sociology and anthropology of performance, 
         public and private
    13)  I'm Thinking of Something Round: Beuys' Chalkboards -- call for
              participants in a telecommunications art experiment/project
    14)  _disClosure_ -- call for papers on the buying and selling of 
         culture
    15)  _Studies in Psychoanalytic Theory_ --  a call for papers on 
         psychoanalysis and cultural criticism in the humanities, social 
         sciences, and fine arts
    16)  The Principia Cybernetica Project -- a call for papers on 
         cybernetic concepts and principles, evolutionary philosophy, 
         knowledge development, computer-support systems for collaborative 
         theory  building
    17)  _Perforations_ -- call for papers for a special issue with the 
         theme: AFTER THE BOOK
    
    >>>>>>>>>>>>>>ITEMS LISTED 
    BELOW THIS POINT APPEAR IN NOTICE-2 192<<<<<<<
    <<<<<<<
    
    18)  _Computers & Texts_ -- a call for papers on the use of 
         computing in the areas of Philosophy and Logic
    19)  _The Frontenac Review_ -- a call for papers on the Nouveau Roman 
         and on Acadian Literature
    20)  ACH/MLA session, New York, 1992: call for papers responding to 
         Mark Olsen's position paper, "Signs, Symbols and Discourses:  A 
         New Direction for Computer-aided Literature Studies"
    21)  _Computer-Supported Cooperative Work_ -- call for papers on 
         theoretical, practical, technical and social issues in CSCW
    22)  NC92, A Collective, Ubiquitous, Congress In Progress -- a call 
         for participants
    
         Conferences, Societies, and Networked Discussion Groups:
    
    23)  The fifth annual Computers and English Conference for high 
         school and college teachers of writing
    24)  Section on science, knowledge, and technology at the 
         Southwestern Social Science annual meetings in Austin, Texas: 
         March 27-31, 1992
    25)  POSTECH: a networked discussion group on post-structuralism and 
         technology
    26)  East-West Conference on Emerging Computer Technologies in 
         Education, Moscow, USSR: April 6-9, 1992
    27)  Conference on Environment and the Latino Imagination, Cornell 
         University: April 30-May 2, l992
    28)  SWIP-L, a networked discussion group for members of the Society  
         for Women in Philosophy and others who are interested in feminist 
         philosophy
    29)  The American Folklore Society
    30)  Meaning Holism: Summer Seminar at Rutgers University, June 29 - 
         August 14, 1992
    31)  ADDICT-L, a networked discussion group concerning the many types 
         of addictions experienced by a large portion of society
    32)  PMJL, Progressive Jewish Mailing List, a networked discussion  
         group on a  variety of Jewish concerns in the tradition of 
         %tikkun olam%
    33)  BUDDHA-L, a networked discussion group on Buddhist Studies
    34)  Pennsylvania State University Summer Seminar on Historicisms and 
         Cultural Critique, State College, PA: June 25-30, 1992
    35)  AFRICA-L, a networked discussion group on the interests of  
         African peoples
    36)  FEMREL-L, a networked discussion group concerning women & 
         religion and feminist theology.
    
         Network Resources:
    
    37)  On-line catalogue of the Georgetown Center for Text and Techology
    38)  ARL Directory of Electronic Journals, Newsletters, and Scholarly 
         Discussion Lists (available in hard copy and via e-mail)
    
    1)-------------------------------------------------------------------------
    
                  Announcing SCIENCE-FICTION STUDIES #55
                  (Volume 18, number 3 = November 1991)
    
                    POSTMODERNISM AND SCIENCE FICTION
    
    Editorial Introduction: Postmodernism's SF/SF's Postmodernism (ICR)
    
    Jean Baudrillard. Two Essays
         1. Simulations and Science Fiction  
         2. Ballard's _Crash_
    
    In Response to Jean Baudrillard (N. Katherine Hayles, David Porush,
      Brooks Landon, Vivian Sobchack) and to the Invitation to Respond
      (J.G. Ballard)
    
    Christopher Palmer: The Birth of the Author in Philip K. Dick's
      _Valis_
    
    Scott Bukatman: Postcards from the Posthuman Solar System
    
    Roger Luckhurst: Border Policing: Postmodernism and Science Fiction
    
    David Porush: Prigogine, Chaos, and Contemporary Science Fiction
    
    Istvan Csicsery-Ronay, Jr. The SF of Theory: Baudrillard and
      Haraway
    
    Review Articles:
    
    Roy Arthur Swanson. Postmodernist Criticism of Pynchon
    
    Peter Ohlin. SF Film Criticism and the Debris of Postmodernism
    
    Istvan Csicsery-Ronay, Jr. The McCaffery Interviews
                               Chaos and Culture
                               Gane's Baudrillard
    
    New subscribers for 1992 (## 56,57, 58) will receive #55 gratis.
    
    RATES: USA $14.00 (institutions $21.00); Canada, CAN$ 15.50
    (institutions CAN$ 2400). UK and elsewhere overseas, $16.50 in U.S.
    funds or L 11.00 sterling (institutions $24.50 in US funds or
    L 16.50 sterling); for airmail add $6.50 in US funds or L 4.50
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    ADDRESS: SF-TH Inc c/o Arthur B. Evans, East College, DePauw
    University, Greencastle, IN 46135-0037 USA
    
    2)----------------------------------------------------------------------
    
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    |||||||            PLEASE POST ----- NEWSLETTER ANNOUNCEMENT         |||
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                               .==|...... ...  ..   ....   .      ....   ..
    ._____.   . * .     .    / ===|_ _.  ..______________________________...
       |  |   | | |\    |  / ======== |\ .|  .... |.THINKNET:An Electronic..
       |  |---| | |  \  |< ========== |. \ .|. |.Journal Of Philosophy
       |  |   | | |    \|  \ ======== |. \| ..... |.Meta-Theory, And Other
       |  |   | | |     |    \ ====== |..|____..  |.Thoughtful Discussions..
                               .==|  .....  ..     .... ..      ...     .. .
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    -----------------------------------------------------------------------
    OCTOBER 1991             ISSUE  001               VOLUME 1   NUMBER 1
    -----------------------------------------------------------------------
    
    This is an announcement for Thinknet, an on-line magazine forum 
    dedicated to thoughtfulness in the cybertime environment. Thinknet 
    covers philosophy, systems theory, and meta-theoretical discussions 
    within disciplines. It is your interdisciplinary window on to what 
    significant information sources are available to foster thought-
    provoking discussion.
    
    *CONTENTS*
    
    Publication Data
    
         Scope of newsletter.
         Rationale for newsletter.
         Subscriptions and Submittals address.
         Bulletin Boards where it may be found.
         Services offered by newsletter.
         Staff of this edition.
         Coda: call for participation.
    
    About Thinknet
    
         Discussion of goals of Thinknet Newsletter.
    
    Prospect for Philosophy and Systems Theory in Cybertime
    
         Is there a possibility for a renaissance for philosophy?
    
    The Philosophy Category on GEnie
    
          Review by Gordon Swobe with list of topics.
    
    Philosophy on the WELL
    
          Review by Jeff Dooley with list of topics.
    
    Origin Conference on the WELL
    
          Review by Bruce Schuman with list of topics
    
    Internet Philosophy Mailing Lists
    
          A review of all know philosophy oriented mailing lists 
          by Stephen Clark.
    
    Books Of Note
    
          THE MATRIX
    
          !%@:: A DIRECTORY OF ELECTRONIC MAIL ADDRESSING & 
          NETWORKS
    
    Other Publications
    
          BOARDWATCH MAGAZINE
    
          SOFTWARE ENGINEERING FOUNDATIONS [a work in progress]
    
    Books, Electronic Newsletters, and Cyber-Artifacts Received
    
          ARTCOM NEWSLETTER
    
          FACTSHEET FIVE
    
    Protocols for Meaningful Discussions: ARTICLE by Kent Palmer
    
           A consideration of how philosophy discussions might 
           be made more useful and their history accessible by 
           using a voluntary protocol.
    
    Thoughtful Communications: EDITORIAL
    
        Closing remarks.
    
    <<<<<<<<<<<>>>>
    >>>>>>>>
    
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    3)--------------------------------------------------------------
    
                       P U B L I C   C U L T U R E
    
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    About The Tensions Between                    CULTURAL STUDIES
    Global Cultural Flows And
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    A Diasporic World
    
                            Recent Contributors:
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                             Chakravorty Spivak,
                     Elizabeth Traube, Robert Rosenstone,
                      Charles Taylor, Hamid Naficy, Ella
                          Shohat, Partha Chatterjee,
                          Dan Rose, Manthia Diawara
    
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    outgrowth of the interests of several individuals and groups, both
    within and outside theUniversity, in coordinating and stimulating
    research that focuses on transnational cultural flows, while 
    encouraging communication, debate, and collaboration between 
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    CTCS coordinates and supports research, multi-locale roundtables, 
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    reports, essays, and extracts from the media in its journal, PUBLIC 
    CULTURE. Enquiries regarding the Center may be addressed to its 
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    4)------------------------------------------------------------------
    
                             *_differences_*
    
                  A Journal of Feminist Cultural Studies
    
                 Edited by Naomi Schor and Elizabeth Week
    
                            Volume 3, Number 1
    Politics/Power/Culture:  Postmodernity and Feminist Political Theory
           Edited by Kathy E. Ferguson and Kirstie M. McClure
    
                            Volume 3, Number 2
               Queer Theory:  Lesbian and Gay Sexualities
                      Edited by Teresa de Lauretis
    
                            Volume 3, Number 3
          Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak:  Feminism in Colonization
                        Joan W. Scott:  Commentary
       Ann-Louise Shapiro:  Love Stories: Female Crimes of Passion 
                        in Fin-de-siecle Paris.
    Mary Lydon:  Calling Yourself a Woman: Marguerite Yourcenar and Colette
     Eric O. Clarke:  Fetal Attraction: Hegel's An-aesthetics of Gender
    Neil Lazarus:  Doubting the New World Order: Marxism and the Claims of
                       Postmodern Social Theory
       Interview with Antoinette Fouque, Femmes en mouvements: hier, 
                            aujourd'hui, demain
    
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    5)---------------------------------------------------------------------
    
                                    *%Discourse%*
    
                       THEORETICAL STUDIES IN MEDIA AND CULTURE
    
                   Edited by Roswitha Mueller and Kathleen Woodward
    
    *D I S
    C O U R S E*        Volume 14, Number 1
    
                        *Jean-Francois Lyotard* "Voices of a Voice" 
    (trans.George Van Den Abbeele)   *Meaghan Morris* "Ecstasy 
    and Economics" *Kathryn Milun* "(En)countering Imperialist 
    nostalgia: The Indian Reburial Issue"   *Christina von Braun* 
    "Strategies of Disappearance" *Gloria-Jean Masciarotte "The 
    Madonna with Child, and Another Child, and Still Another Child 
    . . . : Sensationalism and the Dysfunction of Emotions"  *Tara 
    McPherson and Gareth Evans* "Watch this Space: An Interivew with 
    Edward Soja"
    
    BOOK REVIEWS:  *Susan Willis* %Consumer Culture and Postmodernism% 
    by MikeFeatherstone   *James Schwoch* %The Mode of Information: 
    Poststructuralism and Social Context% by Mark Poster   *Tara 
    McPherson* %Feminism and Youth Culture: from Jackie to Just 
    Seventeen% by Angela McRobbie   *Mark Rose* %Contested Culture: 
    The Image, the Voice, and the Law% by Jane Gaines  *Elizabeth 
    Francis* %Subversive Intent: Gender, Politics, and the Avant- 
    Garde% by Susan Rubin Suleiman   *Marilyn Edelstein* %Sexual 
    Subversions: Three French Feminists% by Elizabeth Grosz
    
                        Volume 13, Number 2
    
    *Lynne Kirby* "Gender and Advertising in American Silent
    Film: From Early Cinema to the Crowd"   *Maureen Turim* "Viewing/
    Reading %Born to be Sold: Martha Rosler Reads the Strange Case of
    Baby S/M% or Motherhood in the Age of Technological Reproduction"
    *Roswitha Mueller* "Screen Embodiments: Valie Export's %Syntagma%
    *Robert J. Corber* "Reconstructuring Homosexuality: Hitchcock and
    the Homoerotics of Spectatorial Pleasure"   *Virginia Carmichael*
    "Death by Text: The Word on Ethel Rosenberg"   *Susan Jeffords* 
    "Performative Masculinities, or 'After a Few Times You won't Be 
    Afraid of Rape at All'"
    
    BOOK REVIEWS:  *Bethany Hicok and Pamela Lougheed* %Visual and 
    Other Pleasures% by Laura Mulvey   *Andrew Martin* %The 
    Remasculinization of America% by Susan Jeffords   *Linda 
    Mizejewski* %The Women Who Knew Too Much% by Tania Modleski  
    *Robin Pickering-Iazzi* %Sexual Difference% by The Milan Women's 
    Bookstore Collective   *Linda Schulte-Sasse* %Joyless Streets% by
    Patrice Petro
    
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    6)----------------------------------------------------------------
    
     Journal of Ideas, Vol 2 #2/3 -- contents
    
     Journal of Ideas - ISSN 1049-6335 is published quarterly by
    
     the Institute for Memetic Research, POB 16327, Panama City,
     Florida 32406-1327.
    
     [For more information contact E. Moritz at moritz@well.sf.ca.us]
    
     OF IDEAS
     John Locke
    
     ENERGY FLOW AND ENTROPY PRODUCTION
     IN BIOLOGICAL SYSTEMS
     Brian A. Maurer
     Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah 84602
     Daniel R. Brooks
     University of Toronto, Ontario M5S 1A1, Canada
    
     ON THE ROAD TO CYBERNETIC IMMORTALITY:
     A Report on the First Principia Cybernetica Workshop
     Elan Moritz
     The Institute for Memetic Research, Panama City, Florida
    
     THE ORIGINS OF THE CAPACITY FOR CULTURE
     Jerome H. Barkow
     Dalhousie University, Halifax, N.S. B3H 1T2, Canada
    
     FOLK PSYCHOLOGY, FREE WILL AND EVOLUTION
     Jerome H. Barkow
    
    7)----------------------------------------------------------------
    
                                  BOOK ANNOUNCEMENT:
    
                               MUSIC AND CONNECTIONISM
                                      edited by
                           Peter M. Todd and D. Gareth Loy
    
    MUSIC AND CONNECTIONISM is now available from MIT Press.  This 
    280-pp. book contains a wide variety of recent research in the 
    applications of neural networks and other connectionist methods to
    the problems of musical listening and understanding, performance, 
    composition, and aesthetics.  It consists of a core of articles 
    that originally appeared in the Computer Music Journal, along
    with several new articles by Kohonen, Mozer, Bharucha, and others, 
    and new addenda to the original articles describing the authors' 
    most recent work. Topics covered range from models of 
    psychological processing of pitches, chords, and melodies, to 
    algorithmic composition and performance factors.  A wide variety 
    of connectionist models are employed as well, including back-
    propagation in time, Kohonen feature maps, ART networks, and 
    Jordan- and Elman-style networks.  We've also included a 
    discussion generated by the Computer Music Journal articles on 
    the use and place of connectionist systems in artistic endeavors.
    
    We hope this book will be of use to a wide variety of readers, 
    including neural network researchers interested in a broad, 
    challenging, and fun new area of application, cognitive scientists 
    and music psychologists looking for robust new models of musical 
    behavior, and artists seeking to learn more about a potentially 
    very useful technology.
    
    Please drop me a line if you have any questions, and especially if 
    you take up the gauntlet and pursue research or applications in 
    this area!
    
    8)-----------------------------------------------------------------
    
    
      +----------------------------------------------------------------+
      | PREMIERES FALL 1991 . . .                                      |
      |                                                                |
      |          JOURNAL OF EDUCATIONAL MULTIMEDIA AND HYPERMEDIA      |
      |                                                                |
      |                         Published by the                       |
      |     Association for the Advancement of Computing in Education  |
      +----------------------------------------------------------------+
    
    Editor: David H. Jonassen (University of Colorado-Denver)
    Associate Editor: Scott Grabinger (University of Colorado-Denver)
    
    The Journal of Educational Multimedia and Hypermedia is designed to 
    provide a multi-disciplinary forum and serve as a primary information 
    source to present and discuss research and applications on Multimedia 
    and Hypermedia in education.  The main goal of the Journal is to 
    contribute to the advancement of the theory and practice of learning 
    and teaching using these powerful technological tools that allow the 
    integration of images, sound, text and data.
    
    Reviewed by leaders in the field, this international quarterly 
    Journal is published for researchers, developers, professors, 
    teachers, teacher educators, curriculum coordinators, and all 
    interested in the educational research and applications of 
    Multimedia and Hypermedia at all levels.
    
    Journal articles include any educational aspect of Multimedia and
    Hypermedia and take the form of:
    
           o Research papers               o Case studies
           o Experimental studies          o Review papers
           o Book/courseware reviews       o Tutorials
           o Courseware experiences        o Opinions
    
    Departments include:
    -------------------
    Viewpoint - examines ideas and their relationships in the field.
    
    Multimedia Projects: Issues and Applications - discusses the 
    practical and theoretical problems and issues associated with 
    current state-of-the-art multimedia/hypermedia projects (Edited 
    by Greg Kearsley, George Washington University)
    
    Developers' Dialogue - examines interesting, unexplored, broad 
    themes, issues and decisions faced by developers (Edited Carrie 
    Heeter, Michigan State Univ.)
    
    Educational Multimedia/Hypermedia Abstracts - abstracts 
    noteworthy researchappearing in journals and databases.
    
    Product Reviews - provides in-depth reviews with screen images of
    multimedia/hypermedia products (Edited by Robert Beichner, SUNY-
    Buffalo)
    
    Book Reviews - provides critical reviews of books in the field 
    Edited by Philip Barker, Teesside Polytechnic)
    
    --------------------------------------------------------------------
    To request subscription/membership information or Author Guidelines,
    contact:
         AACE
         P.O. Box 2966
         Charlottesville, VA 22902 USA
         E-mail: aace@virginia.edu
         Phone: (804) 973-3987
    
                     ------------------------------------
    The Association for the Advancement of Computing in Education (AACE) 
    is an international, educational organization whose purpose is to 
    advance the knowledge and quality of teaching and learning at all 
    levels with computing technologies through the encouragement of 
    scholarly inquiry related to computing in education and the 
    dissemination of research results and their applications.
    
    AACE consists of five membership divisions.  And each division 
    provides members with an annual conference and publications.  The 
    following respected journals represent the topic areas of these 
    divisions:
    
       - Journal of Educational Multimedia and Hypermedia
       - Journal of Artificial Intelligence in Education
       - Journal of Computing in Childhood Education
       - Journal of Computers in Mathematics and Science Teaching
       - Journal of Technology and Teacher Education (premieres Fall 
         '92)
    
    9)-----------------------------------------------------------------
    
                                CLINAMENS
                    
                          E.N.S. Fontenay/St Cloud
                             31 Avenue Lombart
                          92266-Fontenay-aux-Roses
                        Tel : 47-02-60-50, poste 530
                             Fax : 47-02-34-32
    
                  L'E.N.S. annonce la creation de CLINAMENS
    (CLearinghouse INterdisciplinaire `Anglicisme et Methodologie' de 
                         l'Ecole Normale Superieure)
    
    Pourquoi "clearinghouse" ?
    
         Parce que l'ambition de cette structure n'est pas d'etre 
    seulement un "centre de recherches", mais aussi un centre de 
    rencontres, de partage, d'information et de critique constructive 
    mutuelles, de mise au point et de clarification.  _Webster's_ 
    partage sa definition du terme entre "le fait de clarifier" et un 
    lieu de "collection, de traitement et de distribution de 
    l'information"; le lieu, autrement dit, non seulement d'une 
    reflexion solide et formatrice mais aussi d'une definition 
    disciplinaire collective.
    
    Pourquoi "Clinamens" ?  
    
         Parce que l'entreprise ne pourra, dans cette optique, avoir 
    sens et valeur que si chacun accepte le detour, le "pas de cote", 
    l'ecart qui, l'eloignant un peu de ses preoccupations les plus 
    directes ou quotidiennes,  le rapprochera de ceux qui, dans des 
    domaines adjacents, auront consenti le meme effort et renforcera 
    ainsi son entreprise.
         Lucrece decrivait par le terme de "clinamen" la "legere 
    deviation des atomes" qui permet leur rencontre et leur 
    "accrochage".  Ce detournement de vocation, cet "ambitus", cette 
    declinaison, Marx y lisait le signe d'une volonte  arrachee au 
    destin, d'une liberte plus forte que les determinismes...  Faire 
    travailler ensemble des "anglicistes" et les inviter a fertiliser 
    mutuellement leur travail en prenant conscience des savoirs qui
    les rassemblent et des interrogations qu'ils ont en commun plutot 
    qu'en se renfermant sur le champ clos de leur stricte specialite 
    -pratique un peu trop repandue- n'est pas une mince ambition.  
    Il peut sembler qu'uelle vaille la peine de s'en donner les 
    moyens.
    
         A terme, Clinamens organisera
    
              - Des seminaires de methodologie critique
              - Des seminaires de "work-in-progress"
              - Des cycles de conferences
              - Des debats contradictoires
              - Des equipes de recherches "sous-disciplinaires"
              - Une equipe de recherche theorique interdisciplinaire
              - Des colloques
    
         Des cette annee debutent le cycle de conferences et les 
    actvites de quatre equipes de recherches.  (Voir le calendrier 
    reproduit au verso.)  On se renseignera sur le detail de ces 
    dernieres en prenant l'attache des responsables:
    
              1) "Incidences de la psychanalyse sur les etudes 
                  anglicistes"  Responsable Patrick Di Mascio  
                  (Tel : 43-38-56-47)
              2) "Episteme" (Epistemologie et litterature 16e-18e 
                   siecles)
                   Responsable Gisele Venet  (Tel : 60-46-56-63)
              3) "Telos" (Linguistique)
                   Responsable Laurent Danon-Boileau  (Tel : 
                   43-26-98-78)
              4) "Irlande"
                   Responsable Alexandra Poulain  (Tel : 
                   45-24-05-09)
    
         L'assistance aux conferences est libre dans la limite des 
    places disponibles.  *Les specialistes d'autres disciplines 
    sont les bienvenus.* La participation aux equipes de recherche 
    est possible apres contact avec le responsable de l'equipe 
    concernee.
    
         Tous renseignements complementaires (horaires, salles, 
    dates ou sujets non encore determines) peuvent etre obtenus 
    aupres du responsable de CLINAMENS : 
    
                                    Marc Chenetier
                                ENS Fontenay/St. Cloud
                                      Bureau 105
                                  31 Avenue Lombart
                               92266-Fontenay-aux-Roses
                                47-02-60-50, poste 530
    
    10)--------------------------------------------------------------
    
    00000000000000000000000000  RD: Graduate Research in the Arts
    00000000000000000000000000
    00000000000000000000000000  A CALL FOR PAPERS AND READERS
    00000000000000000000000000
    00000000:::::::::::0000000  RD: GRADUATE RESEARCH IN THE ARTS is 
    000000:       DDDDD:000000  a refereed journal dedicated to 
    0000:         DDDDDDD:0000  publishing the work of graduate scholars 
    000:  RRRRR   D     DD:000  in the Arts.  It provides an appropriate 
    00:   R    R  D DDDD DD:00  forum for their scholarly work and a
    0:    RRRRR   D DDDDD DD:0  collective voice for their issues and 
    0:    R   R   D DDDDD DD:0  interests.
    00:   R    R  D DDDD D:000  Papers for RD are now being solicited 
    000:  R     R D     DD:000  from graduate students in the Arts, Fine 
    0000:         DDDDDDD:0000  Arts, andHumanities in any of the 
    00000:::      DDDD:::00000  following areas:    
    0000000::::::::::::0000000      * language, literature and other        
    00000000000000000000000000        artifacts/artefacts
    00000000000000000000000000      * constructions of the self, gender,  
    00000000000000000000000000        class and race
    00000000000000000000000000      * the academy itself and its 
                                      institutional imperatives.
    
    Multidisciplinary and collaborative work isencouraged.
    
    Address two copies of each paper to the editors with a SASE and proof 
    of current enrollment in a graduate programme (for instance, photocopy 
    of a student card or letter from the programme).  Submissions can 
    also be sent on disk (DOS or Macintosh format) or by e-mail.  If you 
    intend to send papers by e-mail, please contact the editors to receive 
    guidelines for indicating foreign or special characters and italics. 
    All submissions should conform to the _MLA Style Manual_.
    
    RD is also presently accepting applications from graduate students to 
    act as readers of papers. Volunteers should include a CV, or a brief 
    summary of their scholarly work and publications.
    
    DEADLINES:
    
    Submissions for RD 1 (Spring 1992) must be postmarked by 15 December 
    1991.
    
    Submissions for RD 2 (Fall 1992) will be accepted until 31 August 
    1992.
    
    SUBSCRIPTIONS:
                            1 Year  2 Years
    Student                 $16.00  $30.00
    Individual/Institution  $24.00  $44.00
    Please add 7% for GST.  Made checks payable to RD.
    
    Individuals who have access to e-mail can receive electronic versions 
    of the journal free of charge by sending their name, status (student, 
    faculty, other) and e-mail address to the editors.
    
    ADDRESS:
    
    Editors, RD
    York University
    c/o Graduate Programme in English
    215 Stong College
    4700 Keele Street
    North York, Ontario
    CANADA  M3J 1P3
    
    bitnet: RD@WRITER YORKU.CA
    
    EDITORS:
             Stephen N. Matsuba
             Rod Lohin
    
    EDITORIAL BOARD:
             Clint Burnham
             Cecily Devereux
             Mark Dineen
             Gayle Irwin
             Sherry Rowley
             Glenn Stillar
             Scott Wright
    
    11)------------------------------------------------------------------
                             CALL FOR PAPERS
    
    LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE is a new international journal to be 
    published by Longman U.K. in June. It brings together the work of 
    those interested in the field of stylistic analysis, the elucidation 
    of literary and non- literary texts and related areas.  It explores 
    the connections between stylistics, critical theory, linguistics, 
    literary criticism and their pedagogical applications.
    
    Interested contributors should write to:
    
    M.H.Short
    Department of Linguistics and Modern English Language
    University of Lancaster
    LANCASTER
    LA1 4YT
    U.K.
    
    e-mail enquiries to Tony Bex, University of Kent at Canterbury:
    arb1@ukc.ac.uk
    
    12)------------------------------------------------------------------
    
                *************CALL FOR PAPERS*************
    
                     An International Conference On
             The Sociology and Anthropology of Performance:
               Public and Private, May 29-31, 1992, Ottawa
    
    Submissions are invited for an international symposium which
    explores "performance" with reference to both public and private
    domains as well as the links between the two.  Scholars with an
    interest in the performing arts (e.g. dance, music, media etc.)
    as well as those with interest in private performance (e.g.
    ritual, meditation, shamanism etc.) are invited to attend a
    three-day symposium at Carleton University, Ottawa, Ontario,
    Canada.
    
    With regard to public performance, our focus is on the social
    science of the performing arts (i.e. demonstrative acts involving
    skills).  Examples would include:
    
    - dance choreography as a special form of communication
    - theatre as a vehicle of social expression
    - music and musicology as social expression or elitism
    - media and performing arts
    - sacred Vs. the secular in performing arts
    - public ritual performance (Puja, ritual-drama etc.)
    
    Private performance focuses on the social science of the use of
    demonstrative acts in the private domain and includes:
    
    - meditation
    - sadhana, personal ritual-drama
    - physical and mental yogas
    - the ritual control of experience
    - ritual transformation
    - ritual or transpersonal epistemologies
    - esoteric epistemologies
    
         These categories are neither mutually exclusive or
    exhaustive.  You are welcome to suggest topics in relation to our
    broad outline by email or snail mail.  Please include a title and
    a short abstract.  We also require a brief C.V. which is needed
    to bolster our funding applications.
    
    Mail your submissions to:             Email submissions to:
    
                                          BRIAN_GIVEN@CARLETON.CA
    
    V. Subramaniam                        Brian J. Given
    Political Science                     Sociology and Anthropology
    Carleton University                   Carleton U.
    Ottawa, Ont.                          Ottawa, Ont.
    
    13)------------------------------------------------------------------
    
               I'M THINKING OF SOMETHING ROUND: BEUYS' CHALKBOARDS
    
                           CALL FOR PARTICIPANTS
    
    I am a San Francisco artist interested in art as experimentation. I 
    am soliciting individuals who are interested in participating in a
    telecommunications art experiment/project.  This project will attempt
    to gather ideas from around the world.  I have created a file that
    I would like to have forwarded around the world, where each individual
    me,involved would add an idea to a list.  Once the file is returned to 
    I will attempt to execute an idea from the list.
    
    Those who are interested in this project, please send me your address
    and I will mail you the file and detailed instructions.
    
    Elliot Anderson
    San Francisco State University
    eliota@sfsuvax1.sfsu.edu
    
    "An Equal Opportunity Artist...""
    
    14)------------------------------------------------------------------
    
                                   dis*Klo'zher
    
                                  call for papers
    
    The editorial collective of disClosure is pleased to announce that it 
    is now accepting submissions for its second issue.  disClosure is a 
    social theory journal edited by graduate students at the Uniersity of 
    Kentucky, and is designed to provide a forum of multi-disciplinary 
    dialogue between the humanities and the the social sciences. By 
    exploring alternative forms of discourse, our goal is to address 
    contemporary intellectual concerns through a rigorous examination 
    of history, space, and representation. As our title suggests, we 
    encourage fresh perspectives that trancend the strictures and 
    structures set in place by traditional disciplary boundaries.
    ______________________________________________________________________
        Issue 2- "The Buying and Selling of Culture"
        Deadline - 1 March 1992
        Submissions for the second issue could address the following 
        issues:
    
    Commodifactions of: PLACE, HERITAGE, PRACTICE, the IMAGE, EDUCATION,
                        IDEAS, CONTRACEPTION, RELIGION, the "SELF" &
                        "POTENTIAL",the SPECTACLE, ART
    Aesthetics and:     TECHNOLOGY/RESISTANCE/COMMODIFCATION/THEORY/
                        DOMINATION
    Resistance:         AVANT GARDE? POSTMODERN? GRASS ROOTS? SUICIDAL?
                        AUTONOMY?
    ______________________________________________________________________
    We accept submissions from all theoretical perspecitves and all genres
    (essay, interview, review, poetry, artwork and others), from both 
    inside and outside the academy. disClosure is a refereed journal whose
    selections are based solely on quality and originaltiy. Graduate
    studetns, factulty and nonacademics are equally encouraged to submit
    works.  Send three copies of manuscripts fromated to MLA guidlines,
    double-spaced, and less than 10,000 words to:
    
    disClosure
    106 Student Center
    University of Kentucky
    Lexington, KY  40506-0026
    PHONE: 606/2572931
    EMAIL: DISCLOSURE@UKCC.UKY.EDU
    
    to order an issue, please send $5 (individual) or $10 (library) in the
    form of a check or money order payable to disClosure.
    
    15)-------------------------------------------------------------------
    
                 NEW JOURNAL: STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYTIC THEORY
    
    STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYTIC THEORY, a journal devoted to the study
    of psychoanalysis and cultural criticism in the humanities, social
    sciences, and fine arts, invites the submission of manuscripts in
    either current MLA or APA style.  Psychoanalytic here is used in the
    broadest sense to include Freudian, neo-Freudian, Lacanian, Jungian,
    
    British school, ego psychology, etc., etc., perspectives.
    
    We are also interested in locating people interested in reviewing books
    for us. If you would like more information, please contact me via
    e-mail at ra471av@tcuamus or via "snail mail" at
    
    Christina Murphy, Editor
    STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYTIC THEORY
    Box 32875
    Texas Christian University
    Fort Worth, TX 76129
    (817) 921-7221
    
    Thanks.  I look forward to hearing from you and receiving subscriptions
    and submissions.
    
    16)--------------------------------------------------------------------
    
                          CALL FOR PAPERS
    
         *   SYMPOSIUM:  THE PRINCIPIA CYBERNETICA PROJECT       *
         *      computer-supported cooperative development       *
         *        of an evolutionary-systemic philosophy         *
    
                            as part of the
    
                13th International Congress on Cybernetics
                   NAMUR (Belgium), August 24-28, 1992
    
    After the succesful organization of a symposium on "Cybernetics and 
    Human Values" at the 8th World Congress of Systems and Cybernetics 
    (New York, June 1990), and of the "1st Workshop of the Principia 
    Cybernetica Project" (Brussels, July 1991), the third official 
    activity of the Principia Cybernetica Project will be a Symposium 
    held at the 13th Int. Congress on Cybernetics. The official congress 
    languages are English and French.
    
    The informal symposium will allow researchers interested in 
    collaborating in the Project to meet. The emphasis will be on 
    discussion, rather than on formal presentation. Contributors are 
    encouraged to read some of the available texts on the PCP in order 
    to get acquainted with the main issues (Newsletter available on 
    request from the Symposium Chairman).
    
    Symposium Theme
    
    Principia Cybernetica is a collaborative attempt to develop a 
    complete and consistent cybernetic philosophy, moving towards a 
    transdisciplinary unification of the domain of Systems Theory and 
    Cybernetics. PCP is meta-cybernetical in that we intend to use 
    cybernetic tools to develop and analyze cybernetic theory. These 
    include the computer-based tools of hypertext, electronic mail, 
    and knowledge structuring software.
    
    PCP is to be developed as a dynamic, multi-dimensional conceptual 
    network. The basic architecture consists of nodes, containing 
    expositions of concepts using different media, connected by links, 
    representing the associations that exist between the nodes. Both 
    nodes and links can belong to different types expressing different 
    semantic and practical categories.
    
    PCP will focus on the clarification of fundamental concepts and 
    principles of the cybernetics and systems domain. Concepts include:  
    Complexity, Information, Variety, Freedom, Control, Self-
    organization, Emergence, etc. Principles include the Laws of 
    Requisite Variety, of Requisite Hierarchy, and of Regulatory 
    Models.
    
    The PCP philosophy is systemic and evolutionary, based on the 
    spontaneous emergence of higher levels of organization or control 
    (metasystem transitions) through blind variation and natural 
    selection. It includes:
    
     a) a metaphysics, based on processes or actions as ontological 
    primitives,
    
     b) an epistemology, which understands knowledge as constructed 
    by the subject, but undergoing selection by the environment;
    
     c) an ethics, with the continuance of the process of evolution 
    as supreme value.
    
    Philosophy and implementation of PCP are united by their common 
    framework based on cybernetic and evolutionary principles: the 
    computer-support system is intended to amplify the spontaneous 
    development of knowledge which forms the main theme of the 
    philosophy.
    
    Papers can be submitted on one or several of the following 
    topics:
    
    The Principia Cybernetica Project
    Cybernetic Concepts and Principles
    Evolutionary Philosophy
    Knowledge Development
    Computer-Support Systems for Collaborative Theory Building
    
    Submission of papers
    
    People wishing to present a paper in the Principia Cybernetica 
    symposium should quickly send the application form, together 
    with an abstract of max. 1 page, to the addresses of the 
    Symposium chairman AND of the Congress secretariat (IAC) below. 
    They will be notified about acceptance not later than 2 months 
    after receipt, and will receive instructions for the 
    preparation of the final text. In principle, all application 
    forms should be received by December 31, 1991, but it may be 
    possible to come in late. People wishing to present a paper 
    in a different symposium can directly submit their abstract 
    to the secretariat.
    
    For submissions of papers to, or further information about, 
    the Principia Cybernetica symposium, contact the symposium 
    chairman:
    
    Dr. Francis Heylighen
    PO-PESP, Free Univ. Brussels, Pleinlaan 2, B-1050 Brussels, 
    Belgium
    Phone +32 - 2 - 641 25 25   Email  fheyligh@vnet3.vub.ac.be
    Fax   +32 - 2 - 641 24 89   Telex  61051 VUBCO B
    
    For congress registration, or further information about the 
    congress, contact the secretariat:
    
    International Association for Cybernetics
    Palais des Expositions, Place Ryckmans, B-5000 Namur, 
    Belgium
    Phone +32 - 81 - 73 52 09   Email  cyb@info.fundp.ac.be
    Fax   +32 - 81 - 23 09 45
    
    17)-------------------------------------------------------------
    
     PERFORATIONS, an Atlanta-based journal of language, art, and 
    technology, is seeking contributors for a special issue with the 
    theme: AFTER THE BOOK. This issue will be devoted to work about 
    the demise of The Book As We Knew  It, the rise of hypertext, and 
    the possibilities for writing in the world post-ink-and-linearity. 
    We're particularly interested in in work approaching hypertext 
    from film and video theory, in critical work on hyperfiction, in
    hypertexts on-disk or in print extracts, and in work challenging 
    our position that hypertext, in its transcendence of the 
    restrictions of the paper book and the one-way movie, represents 
    writing's first true step beyond Sterne/Joyce and film/video. 
    Essays, print and graphic collages, fictions, or hybrids of any 
    sort are welcome. No restrictions on style, no minimum or 
    maximum length; we're hoping that contributors will send us 
    serious and adventurous work that they might hesitate to submit 
    to a more traditional journal.
    
     Deadline: March 15, 1992 (negotiable for authors preceding 
    submissions with queries). Macintosh-readable disks preferred, 
    all formats acceptable. Send queries and submissions to: 
    libgess@emuvm1.bitnet/Richard Gess, Guest Editor, PERFORATIONS, 
    428 Oakview Rd, Decatur, GA 30030.
    
       About PERFORATIONS: Atlanta's Public Domain alternative arts 
    collective published the first issue of PERFORATIONS in September 
    1991. PEFORATIONS is a journal where theorists, critics, and 
    artists contrbute equally to examinations of current issues in 
    language, art, and technology. Issues are theme-oriented: Fall 
    1991 was about "The Post-mortem Condition," and Winter 1992 
    (now in press) is about "Conspiracies, Esthetics and Politics," 
    and features an interview with Jean-Francois Lyotard and a 
    hyperfiction disk. Spring 1992, due in May, will be "After the 
    Book;" issues beyond will consider "Dreams, Bodies, and 
    Technologies," "Multi-, Mini-, and Quasi-Culturalisms," and 
    "Virtual and Performative Architectures." PERFORATIONS is 
    distributed regionally to a growing audience of working artists 
    in all genres and scholars in all disciplines; publication in
    PERFORATIONS is a way of communicating beyond the usually 
    suspected readers for both artists and academics. For 
    subscription/back issue information, contact 
    libgess@emuvm1.bitnet.
    
    18)--------------------------------------------------------------
    
    The next issue of the CTI (Computers in Teaching Initiative) 
    Centre for Textual Studies newsletter _Computers & Texts_ 
    will be centred on the use of computing in the areas of 
    Philosophy/Logic. This is a preliminary call for submissions 
    by anyone interested in this subject. Format and deadline details
    are available upon request. 
    
    The areas we are hoping to cover in the issue are: 
    
            An overview of the use of computers and Philosophy 
            Electronic Texts: their availability and usefulness 
            Simulation packages 
            Review of Ethics software
            Review of Logic Software 
            Bulletin Boards, Electronic mail, and other computer
            -based resources of use to Philosophers 
    
    Please feel free to suggest other areas which you think should 
    be included. 
    
    Thanks in advance, 
    
    Stuart Lee 
    Research Officer 
    CTI Centre for Textual Studies 
    Oxford University Computing Service 
    13 Banbury Road 
    Oxford 
    OX2 6NN 
    Tel:0865-273221 
    Fax:0865-273275 
    E-mail: STUART@UK.AC.OX.VAX 
    
    19)------------------------------------------------------------
    
                              TO ALL GRADUATE STUDENTS: 
    
                                   CALL FOR PAPERS 
    
    The Frontenac Review 
    Dept. of French Studies 
    Queen's University 
    Kingston, Ontario 
    Canada  K7L 3N6 
    Telephone: (613) 545-2090 
    Fax: (613) 545-6300 
    
    Email: warderh@qucdn.queensu.ca 
    
    January 1992 
    
    The Frontenac Review invites you to submit articles on The 
    'Nouveau Roman'for its winter 1991 edition (number 8) and on 
    Acadian literature for its Fall 1992 edition (number 9).  
    Initial submissions should follow the guidelines  established 
    by the M.L.A.  If your article is accepted we will ask you to 
    submit the same article on diskette (IBM compatible), in 
    Wordperfect 5.1 
    format. 
    
    The committee will not be responsible for returning articles.  
    All candidates will be informed of the committee's decision 
    within a reasonable time limit. 
    
    The Frontenac Review is searched annually by the Bibliographie 
    der Franzoesischen Literaturwissenschaft and by the MLA 
    International Bibliography. 
    
                           DEADLINE FOR SUBMISSIONS: 
    
             ** The Nouveau Roman (no. 8) -- January 30, 1992 ** 
    
               Acadian Literature (no. 9) -- September 1, 1992 
    
    20)-------------------------------------------------------------
                              CALL FOR PAPERS
    
    The ACH will be organising two sessions at the 1992 MLA 
    Convention, to be held December 27-30, 1992, in New York City, 
    around Mark Olsen's position paper proposing a new direction 
    for computer-aided studies of literature (summary below).  
    Please contact Paul Fortier -- FORTIER@UOFMCC.BITNET .
    
    Deadline for submission of paper or abstract March 1, 1992 to
    FORTIER@UOFMCC.BITNET.  People presenting papers at the the MLA
    Convention MUST be members of the MLA.  Announcement of 
    acceptance April 1, 1992.
    
                                ---------------
    
                Signs, Symbols and Discourses:  A New Direction
                     for Computer-aided Literature Studies.
    
                                  Mark Olsen*
                             University of Chicago
                             mark@gide.uchicago.edu
    Abstract
    
         Computer-aided Literature Studies have failed to have a
    significant impact on the field as a whole.  This failure is
    traced to  a  concentration  on  how  a  text  achieves  its
    literary  effect  by  the  examination of subtle semantic or
    grammatical structures in single texts or the works of indi-
    vidual  authors.   Computer  systems  have proven to be very
    poorly suited to such refined analysis of complex  language.
    Adopting  such  traditional  objects  of study has tended to
    discourage researchers from using the tool to ask  questions
    to  which  it  is  better  adapted, the examination of large
    amounts of simple linguistic features.   Theoreticians  such
    as  Barthes,  Foucault  and  Halliday show the importance of
    determining the lingusitic and semantic  characteristics  of
    the  language  used  by  the  author  and  her/his audience.
    Current technology, and databases like  the  TLG  or  ARTFL,
    facilitate   such  wide-spectrum  analyses.   Computer-aided
    methods are thus capable of opening up new areas  of  study,
    
    which  can potentially transform the way in which literature
    is studied.
    
    [ ... ]
    
                              --------------------
    
    [A complete version of this paper is now available through the 
    HUMANIST fileserver, s.v.  OLSEN MLA92.  You may obtain a copy 
    by issuing the command -- GET filename filetype HUMANIST -- 
    either interactively or as a batch-job, addressed to 
    ListServ@Brownvm.  Thus on a VM/CMS system, you say 
    interactively:  TELL LISTSERV AT BROWNVM GET OLSEN MLA92 
    HUMANIST; if you are not on a VM/CMS system, send mail to 
    ListServ@Brownvm with the GET command as the first and only 
    line.  For more details see the "Guide to Humanist".  Problems 
    should be reported to David Sitman, A79@TAUNIVM, after you 
    have consulted the Guide and tried all appropriate 
    alternatives.]
    
    21)------------------------------------------------------------
    
                         NEW JOURNAL FOR 1992
    
              COMPUTER SUPPORTED COOPERATIVE WORK (CSCW)
                       An International Journal
    
    Editorial Team:
    
    LIAM BANNON                         JOHN BOWERS
    Copenhagen Business School          Dept. of Psychology
    Institute of Computer &         Univ. of Manchester
    Systems Sciences, Denmark           U.K.
    
    CHARLES GRANTHAM                    MIKE ROBINSON
    Dept. of Organizational Studies     Centre for Innovation&
    Univ. of San Francisco              Cooperative Technology
    USA                                 Univ. of Amsterdam
                                        The Netherlands
    
    KJELD SCHMIDT                       SUSAN LEIGH STAR
    Cognitive Systems Group             Dept. of Sociology &
    Ris~ National Laboratory            Social Anthropology
    Denmark                             University of Keele
                                        U.K.
    
    Computer Supported Cooperative Work (CSCW):  An International
    Journal  will be devoted to innovative research in Computer
    Supported Cooperative Work (CSCW). It will provide an
    interdisciplinary forum for the debate and exchange of ideas
    concerning theoretical, practical, technical and social issues
    in CSCW.
    
    The journal arises as a timely response to the growing
    interest in the design, implementation and use of technical
    systems (including computing, information, and communications
    technologies) which support people working cooperatively.
    Equally, the journal is concerned with studies of the process
    of cooperative work itself - studies intended to motivate the
    design of new technical systems, and to develop both theory
    and praxis in the field. The journal will encourage
    contributions from a wide range of disciplines and
    perspectives within the social, computing and allied human and
    information sciences.
    
    In general, the journal will facilitate the discussion of all
    issues which arise in connection with the support requirements
    of cooperative work. It is intended that the journal will be
    of interest to a wide readership through its coverage of
    research related to - inter alia - groupware, socio-technical
    system design, theoretical models of cooperative work,
    computer mediated communication, human-computer interaction,
    group decision support systems (GDSS), coordination systems,
    distributed systems, situated action, studies of cooperative
    work and practical action, organisation theory and design, the
    sociology of technology, explorations of innovative design
    strategies, management and business science perspectives,
    artificial intelligence and distributed AI approaches to
    cooperation, library and information sciences, and all manner
    of technical innovations devoted to the support of cooperative
    work including electronic meeting rooms, teleconferencing
    facilities, electronic mail enhancements, real-time and
    asynchronous technologies, desk-top conferencing, shared
    editors, video and multi-media systems. In addition, we
    welcome studies of the social, cultural, moral, legal and
    political implications of CSCW systems.
    
    CALL FOR PAPERS
    Manuscripts (5 Copies) relating to any of the above-mentioned
    themes and topics are invited for submission. Manuscripts
    should be submitted to the Journals Editorial Office at the
    address below:
    
              Editorial Office (COSU)
              Kluwer Academic Publishers
              P.O. Box 17
              3300 AA Dordrecht
              The Netherlands
    
    Detailed instructions for authors and other information (such
    as submission via email or on disk) can be obtained from the
    above address or by electronic mail on: HUSOC@KAP.NL (Please
    mark your message CSCW).
    ______________________________________________________________
    
    INFORMATION REQUEST FORM
    Please fill in the information form and send to:
    
    KLUWER ACADEMIC PUBLISHERS
    Att. M. van der Linden
    P.O.Box 989
    3300 AZ Dordrecht
    The Netherlands
    Email: husoc@kap.nl
    
    O    Please send me a FREE SAMPLE COPY of Computer Supported
         Cooperative Work
    
    O    Please send me your brochure listing publications in
         Cognitive Science/Artificial Intelligence
    
    NAME:_______________________________________________________
    ADDRESS:____________________________________________________
    CITY:________________________________ STATE:________________
    COUNTRY:____________________________________________________
    POSTAL CODE:_________________________ DATE:_________________
    EMAIL:______________________________________________________
    
                PLEASE TYPE OR PRINT IN BLOCKLETTERS
    
    IF YOU REPLY BY EMAIL, PLEASE INCLUDE YOUR FULL NAME AND
    POSTAL ADDRESS.
    
    22)--------------------------------------------------------------
    
                              NC92 TELENETLINK CONGRESS
                    A Collective, Ubiquitous, Congress In Progress
    
              Networking dialogue has been central to mail art and
    telecommunication art projects.  Telecommunciation artists, for 
    example, use personal computers to download work for modification, 
    detournement, or appropriation into other artworks--creative 
    authorship is shared.  Mail artists also share co-authorship in 
    postal exchanges.  The recycled surfaces or contents of mailing 
    tubes, envelopes, and parcels travel thousands of miles around 
    the world as many artists alter a single item.  Gradually, a
    global collage of artist postage stamps, rubber stamped images, 
    cryptic messages, and slogans emerge.
    
              As NC92 facilitator, I have formed a "Telenetlink 
    Congress" whose purpose is centered on reaching readers and the 
    telematic community through magazines, bulletin board services 
    like NYC's "Echo," Chicago's "Artbase" BBS, and by accessing 
    internationally distributed USENET newsgroups such as alt artcom, 
    and rec arts fine.  I view these collective efforts as a
    ubiquitous "congress in process" extending throughout the 
    1992 Networker Congress year.
    
              Participation may involve any form of 
    telecommunication exchange, e-mail, fax, video phones, etc. Send 
    your Telenetlink Congress statements and project proposals via 
    (e)mail to Cathryn L. Welch@dartmouth.edu. or fax to Chuck 
    Welch, Telenetlink Congress (603) 448-9998.
    
    Participating in the NC92 Telenetlink Congress begins when 
    readers send a brief one page statement about "how you envision 
    your own role as a networker."  Proposals and projects that 
    would interconnect the mail art and telematic communities are 
    also welcome.  Periodic updates concerning telenetlink project 
    initiatives will be posted over Usenet newsgroups rec. arts 
    fine and alt. artcom.    All statements received from artists 
    in the telematic community will be part of the NC92 "Networker 
    Database Congress," a collection that will be made available 
    for research at the University of Iowa's "Alternative 
    Traditions in the Contemporary Arts Archive."
    
    *Art that networks explores and expands the communication 
    process as it encourages democratic access to free 
    communication.  By cutting through social, cultural and 
    political hierarchies, we can dissolve boundaries and discover 
    corresponding worlds of mail and telecommunications art.*
    
    # # # # *** Further information about scheduled NC92 events is 
    available by writing to these facilitators:
    
    H.R. Fricker, Buro fur kunstlerische Umtriebe, CH 9043 Trogen, 
    Switzerland Peter W. Kaufmann, Bergwisenstrasse 11, 8123 
    Ebmatingen, Switzerland Netlink South America: Clemente Padin, 
    Casilla C. Central 1211, Montevideo,Uruguay
    Netlink East: Chuck Welch, PO Box 978, Hanover, NH 03755
    Netlink South: John Held Jr. 7919 Goforth, Dallas, Texas 
    75238
    Netlink Midwest: Mark Corroto, PO Box 1382, Youngstown, Ohio 
    44501
    Netlink Subspace: Steve Perkins, 221 W. Benton, Iowa City, Iowa 
    52246
    Netlink West: Lloyd Dunn, PO Box 162, Oakdale, Iowa  52319 *** 
    # # # #
    
    23)-------------------------------------------------------------
    ________________________________________________________________
    |                     LITERATURE, COMPUTERS AND WRITING:       |
    |                                                              |
    |                   FORGING CONNECTIONS IN THE HIGH SCHOOL     |    
    |                                                              |
    |                      AND COLLEGE ENGLISH CLASSROOMS          |    
    |                                                              |
    |                                April 3, 1992                 |    
    |______________________________________________________________|
    
        The fifth annual Computers and English Conference for high 
                                    school and
                            college teachers of writing.
         Sponsored by the Program in English New York Institute of 
                                Technology
    
    The conference has two primary themes:
         o  how computers and specifically computer networks can be 
            used to ally high school and college teachers of English, 
            and
         o  how computers are changing the way literature is created, 
            taught,understood and written about.
    
    Possible Topics
    
         o  Computer access in a muliticultural environment
         o  Computers and the changing definitions of literacy
         o  Growing interest in desktop publishing for students and
            faculty
         o  Teleconferencing and distance learning
         o  Classroom uses of on-line databases and searches
         o  Classroom uses of hypertext and hypermedia
         o  Computer discussion groups for students and/or teachers
         o  Varied features of personal contact in an electronic
            environment
         o  Computers and the learning-disabled student
         o  Continuing teacher education and telecommunications
         o  Demonstrations of software programs you have designed
         o  Effects of computers on testing and assessing
            individually or collaboratively composed writing
    
    Send requests for information to:
    
                                Department of English
                           New York Institute of Technology
                             Old Westbury, New York 11568
                         Att: Ann McLaughlin  (516) 686-7557.
    
    Conference Fee:  $50.00 (prior to conference date) $35.00 for 
    matriculated graduate students.  Fee includes coffee and buffet 
    luncheon.  Hotel accomodations available near campus at East 
    Norwich Inn (East Norwich, NY).
     ________________________________________________________________
    |Pre-Registration Form                                           |
    |                                                                |
    |Please register me for the Fifth-Annual NYIT Computers and      |
    |Writing Conference:                                             |
    |                                                                |
    | Name:     _________________________________________________    |
    | Address:  _________________________________________________    |
    |           _________________________________________________    |
    |           _________________________________________________    |
    | E-Mail:   _________________________________________________    |
    | School:   _________________________________________________    |
    | Amount Enclosed:  $ ___.___                                    |
    | Mail completed form to                                         |
    |  Department of English                                         |
    |  New York Institute of Technology                              |
    |  Old Westbury, New York 11568                                  |
    |  Att: Ann McLaughlin  (516) 686-7557.                          |
    |________________________________________________________________|
    
    24)--------------------------------------------------------------- 
    
    SECTION on SCIENCE, KNOWLEDGE, AND TECHNOLOGY at the
    SOUTHWESTERN SOCIAL SCIENCE ANNUAL MEETINGS in AUSTIN, TEXAS
    MARCH 27-31, 1992.
    
    CONTACT: Raymond Eve  
    
    ****PLEASE FORWARD TO ANYONE WHO MIGHT BE INTERESTED****
    
         I would like to mention to you (somewhat belatedly, I
    fear), the upcoming section on "Science, Knowledge, and
    Technology" to be held at the Southwestern Social Science
    Association Annual Meetings in Austin, Texas.  Dates for the
    meeting's paper sessions will be March 27 - 31, 1992.  The
    S,K, and T paper sessions will probably be scheduled on
    Thursday and/or Friday of that week.
         Unfortunately, the SWSA forgot to include the listing
    of the "Science, Knowledge, and Technology" section (and a
    section organizer -- yours truly) in the initial call for
    papers.  This was an oversight, and you may be sure that the
    section will exist again in '92.
         The section has only existed for two previous years,
    but the response has been truly outstanding, and
    interestingly, excellent papers of common interest were
    given by scholars as diverse as sociologists, arts and
    literature faculty, anthropologists, and physical science
    faculty.
         I would also like to take this opportunity to draw your
    attention to a "Workshop for the Disciplines" session I've
    been asked to organize on Friday morning at 10 a.m. of the
    meetings.  It will be entitled "Postmodern Culture:
    Convenient Myth or Imperative Paradigm?".  This session has
    several very well known people scheduled for it, and their
    disciplines include: literature, architecture, political
    science, and sociology.  We should have on hand many
    individuals interested in most postmodern theory and in
    chaos theory, as well as many other interesting S, K, and T
    topics.
         Hope we will see you in Austin in the spring!
    
    25)-----------------------------------------------------------------
    
             POSTECH@WEBER.UCSD.EDU -- DISCUSSION GROUP ON 
                   POST-STRUCTURALISM AND TECHNOLOGY
    
    Phil Agre (UC San Diego) and John Bowers (Univ. of Manchester) have 
    started a netmail discussion group on post-structuralism and 
    technology. (You can define those terms however you like.)  To be 
    added, send a  short note to postech-request@weber.ucsd.edu.  Make 
    sure to include a  network address that's accessible from the 
    Internet (me@here.bitnet, uucpnode!me@gateway.somewhere.edu, 
    me@machine.here.ac.uk, me@ibm.com,  whatever).  We'll collect 
    addresses for a month or so and then we'll  invite everyone to send 
    a note to the group introducing themselves and advertising their 
    work.
    
    26)-----------------------------------------------------------------
              ****************************************************
              *                                                  *
              *               East-West Conference               *
              *  on Emerging Computer Technologies in Education  *
              *                                                  *
              *                 April 6-9, 1992                  *
              *                   Moscow, Russia                 *
              *                                                  *
              *           SECOND REVISED ANNOUNCEMENT            *
              *                                                  *
              *             CALL FOR PARTICIPATION               *
              *                                                  *
              ****************************************************
    
         The aims of  the  East-West  Conference  on  Emerging  Computer
    Technologies in Education are to provide a forum for the exchange of
    ideas between Eastern and Western scientists and to present  to  the
    Soviet  educational  community  the  current state-of-the-art on the
    theory and practice of using emerging computer-based  technology  in
    education.   The   Technical   Programme   includes  invited  talks,
    presentations  of  about  80 research/development and review papers,
    posters, and demonstrations. An exhibition of  educational  hardware
    and software products is also anticipated.
    
         The conference is designed to cover the  following  subfields  of
    advanced research in the field of computers and education:
    
    -  Artificial Intelligence and Education
    -  Educational Multi-Media and Hyper-Media
    -  Learning Environments, Microworlds and Simulation
    
         The Conference is organised and sponsored by: Association for the
    Advancement of Computing in Education (AACE), International Centre for
    Scientific and Technical Information (ICSTI), and  Soviet  Association
    for Artificial Intelligence (SAAI).
    
         The Conference will take place in the ICSTI Building in Moscow.
    
    Information
    ~~~~~~~~~~~
    
    For further information please contact:
    
    Conference content and program:
                  Dr Peter Brusilovsky (eastwest@plb.icsti.su)
    Accomodation and visa support:
                  Mr Vladislav Pavlov (use the conference FAX number).
    
    Registration: Dr Viacheslav Rykov (use the conference FAX number).
    
    Exhibition:   Dr Jury Gornostaev  (enir@ccic.icsti.msk.su)
    
    Conference addresses
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    East-West Conference on Emerging Computer Technologies in Education
    International Centre for Scientific and Technical Information
    Kuusinen str. 21b, Moscow 125252, Russia
    E-mail: eastwest@plb.icsti.su or  eastwest%plb.icsti.su@ussr.eu.net
    Telex: 411925 MCNTI
    FAX: +7 095 943 0089
    
    27)------------------------------------------------------------------
    
                    ENVIRONMENT AND THE LATINO IMAGINATION
                       * * Conference announcement * *
    
    Cornell University will host a conference on "Environment and the 
    Latino Imagination" that will involve the participation of 
    environmentalists, artists, poets, activists, and other invited 
    speakers who will address one of the holes in mainstream environmental 
    research--the persectives of U.S. Latinos and their ways of imagining 
    their relationship to their environment. 
    
    The conference will take place April 30-May 2, l992.  
    Please direct inquiries to:
    
    Debra A. Castillo                 or     Barbara Lynch
    Dept. Romance Studies                    Environmental Toxicology
    Goldwin Smith Hall                       Fernow Hall
    Cornell University
    Ithaca, NY  14853
    
    or bitnet to bgcy@cornella
    
    28)------------------------------------------------------------------
    
                                     SWIP-L
    
    Announcing the formation of a new e-mail list called the SWIP-L, an
    information and discussion list for members of the Society for Women 
    in Philosophy and others who are interested in feminist philosophy.
    
    To subscribe to this list send the following one-line message to
    LISTSERV@CFRVM or LISTSERV@CFRVM.CFR.USF.EDU
    
        Subscribe SWIP-L 
    
    To post messages to the list send them to SWIP-L@CFRVM or to SWIP-L@
    CFRVM.CFR.USF.EDU
    
       The idea of the list is to have a place to share information about 
    SWIP meetings and other feminist philosophy meetings, calls for papers, 
    jobs for feminist philosophers, as well as to engage in more substantive
    discussion of issues related to feminist philosophy.  While it is open 
    to people who are not SWIP members, this is a list meant for feminist 
    philosophers; please don't subscribe unless that is a description you 
    are comfortable applying to yourself.
    
    LINDA LOPEZ McALISTER    DLLAFAA@CFRVM.CFR.USF.EDU (Internet)
    Women's Studies Dept.    DLLAFAA@CFRVM_(Bitnet)
    University of South Florida, Tampa 33620   (813)974-5531
    
    29)-------------------------------------------------------------------
    
                       AMERICAN FOLKLORE SOCIETY
    
         Founded in 1888, the American Folklore Society is the
    American learned and professional society for folklorists.  It
    offers an intellectual and social forum for the field of
    folklore through an annual meeting, publications, specialized
    activities of interest-group sections, various prizes and awards,
    and other services to its membership.
    
         The JOURNAL OF AMERICAN FOLKLORE is a lively forum for
    recent work in this field.  Recent issues have treated such
    topics as Gospel quartets, the Greenwich Village Halloween
    Parade, the zombi, cowboy poetry gatherings, Latinismo and
    heritage politics, nocturnal death syndrome among the Hmong,
    folklore in Richard Wright's "Black Boy", and reviews of a wide
    range of books, exhibitions, films, and records.
    
         The Annual Meeting will be held October 15-18, 1992 in
    Jacksonville, Florida.  The call for papers will appear in the
    February Newsletter.
    
               MEMBERSHIP DIRECTORY AND GUIDE TO THE FIELD
    
         The DIRECTORY has been compiled from members' responses and
    submissions from folklore programs and organizations throughout
    North America.  The DIRECTORY contains:
    
         *    alphabetized name and address entries for 1200
              folklorists, most of which also contain telephone and
              E-mail information and areas of interest
    
         *    detailed descriptive entries for academic and public
              programs in folklore
    
         *    indexes to the member directory entries by interest
              area and place of residence
    
    The Directory is available for $10 to members of the American
    Folklore Society, and for $15 to nonmembers, with a 10% discount
    on orders of 10 copies or more.
    
    To order the Directory:  Send a check made payable to the
    American Folklore Society and marked "1992 AFS Directory" to
    
         Book Orders Department (EM)
         American Folklore Society,
         1703 New Hampshire Ave. NW,
         Washington, DC 20009.
    
    -----------------------MEMBERSHIP INFORMATION--------------------
    
    Membership in the American Folklore Society brings the following
    benefits:
    
         *    JOURNAL OF AMERICAN FOLKLORE (quarterly)
    
         *    NEWSLETTER (bimonthly)
    
         *    reduced registration rates for the Annual Meeting
    
         *    discounted prices on volumes in the PUBLICATIONS OF THE
              AMERICAN FOLKLORE SOCIETY series; the Society's
              MEMBERSHIP DIRECTORY AND GUIDE TO THE FIELD; and the
              "Folklore" volume of the annual MLA INTERNATIONAL
              BIBLIOGRAPHY
    
         *    right to vote in Society's elections and to hold
              Society office
    
         *    right to be considered for Society prizes and awards
    
         *    access to various kinds of low-cost insurance offered
              to Society members by outside insurers
    
    To become a member of the American Folklore Society:
    
         regular member      $50
         student member      $20
         partner member      $20 (partners of members do not receive
                                  publications)
         sustaining          $75
         patron              $100
         life member         $800.
    
    Send a check made payable to the American Folklore Society to
    
         Membership Department (EM)
         American Folklore Society,
         1703 New Hampshire Ave. NW,
         Washington, DC 20009.
    
    30)------------------------------------------------------------------
    
                                     MEANING HOLISM
                                   NEW SUMMER SEMINAR
    
                         Directors: JERRY FODOR & ERNIE LEPORE
                    Location: Rutgers University, New Brunswick, NJ
                     Dates: June 29 - August 14, 1992 (seven weeks)
    
         Holism about meaning and intention content has shaped much of 
    what is most characteristic of contemporary philosophy of language and 
    philosophy of mind.  The seminar is devoted to the question whether 
    the individuation of the contents of thoughts and linguistic 
    expressions is inherently holistic. For example, we will discuss 
    arguments that are alleged to show that themeaning of a scientific 
    hypothesis depends on the entire theory that entails it, or that the 
    content of a concept depends on the entire belief system of
    which it is a part. Implications of holistic semantics for other
    philosophical issues (intentional explanation, translation Realism,
    skepticism, connectionism, etc.) will also be explored. Authors to be 
    read include Quine, Davidson, Lewis, Block, Field, Dummett, Dennett, 
    Churchland and others. In addition, we will use Holism: a Shopper's 
    Guide, Fodor, J. and E. LePore, 1992, Basil Blackwell.
    
         The National Endowment for the Humanities will provide a summer 
    stipend of $3,600 for travel, book and living expenses, to those 
    selected as participants in this seminar. Applications must be 
    postmarked not later than 2 March, 1992.
    
    For further information and for application forms, please write to:
    
                                 Meaning Holism Seminar
                                 Philosophy Department
                                     Davidson Hall
                          Douglass Campus, Rutgers University
                             New Brunswick, NJ 08903 (USA)
    
    31)------------------------------------------------------------------
    
    ADDICT-L is an electronic conference for mature discussion of the 
    many types of addictions experienced by a large portion of society. 
    The focus of this list is to provide an information exchange network 
    for individuals interested in researching, educating or recovering 
    from a variety of addictions.  It is not the intent of this list to 
    focus on one area of addiction, but rather to discuss the phenomena 
    of addiction as it relates to areas of sexual, co-dependency, eating 
    addiction, etc...  Truly a list that many aspects could be discussed. 
    
      -- All individuals with an interest in the topic area are welcome. 
      -- Subscriptions of those interested will be added by the listowner 
      -- Subscribers should look forward to educating themselves about 
         addictions, and discussing relevant topics related to addiction 
         and recovery. 
      -- Intended as an information exchange network and discussion group 
    
    Possible Appropriate Subjects: 
    
      -- Discussion of etiology of addictions 
      -- Effects of addictions 
      -- Recovery from addiction and 12 Step Programs 
      -- Recent article publications relevant to addiction literature 
      -- Networking with others having related interests 
    
    Drug/Alcohol addiction has a way of becoming an easy topic of
    discussion.  It is the intent of this list to broaden the awareness of
    addictions into a variety of other areas.  There are Electronic lists
    devoted to drug/alcohol use for those interested only in that area 
    
    Subscription  Procedure: 
    
    To subscribe from a bitnet account send an interactive or e-mail 
    message addressed to LISTSERV@KENTVM.  Internet users send mail to 
    LISTSERV@KENTVM.KENT.EDU (In mail, leave the subject line blank and 
    make the text of your message the following: 
    
          SUB ADDICT-L Yourfirstname  Yourlastname 
    
       Questions can be addressed to listowner: 
          David Delmonico   Ddelmoni@kentvm.kent.edu 
    
    32)----------------------------------------------------------------
    
    PJML on LISTSERV@UTXVM.BITNET      Progressive Jewish Mailing List 
    or LISTSERV@UTXVM.CC.UTEXAS.EDU 
    
    The Progressive Jewish Mailing List (PJML) is an educational forum, 
    providing accurate information on a variety of Jewish concerns in 
    ways that inspire us to action.  Using electronic mail and computer 
    networks, PJML connects activist Jews and our allies from across the 
    globe.  We come from many traditions;  if we have differences, let us 
    talk about them openly.  But let us continue in the tradition of 
    _tikkun olam_, the just repair of the world. 
    
    To subscribe to PJML, you will need an electronic mail account that 
    accesses either BITNET or INTERNET.  Simply send the following 
    message to either LISTSERV@UTXVM.CC.UTEXAS.EDU or 
    LISTSERV@UTXVM.BITNET: 
    
      SUB PJML yourfirstname yourlastname 
    
    List Moderator:     Steve Carr 
       BITNET:          RTFC507@UTXVM.BITNET 
       INTERNET:        STEVEN.CARR@UTXVM.CC.UTEXAS.EDU 
       Phone:           (512) 453-8540 (h) 
       U.S. Post:       3911-A Ave. F 
                        Austin TX  78751 
    
    33)---------------------------------------------------------------
    
    BUDDHA-L on LISTSERV@ULKYVM.LOUISVILLE.EDU 
             or LISTSERV@ULKYVM.BITNET 
    
       An electronic discussion group called BUDDHA-L has recently been 
       formed towards the end of providing a means for those interested in 
       Buddhist Studies to exchange information and views.  It is hoped that 
       the group will function as an open forum for scholarly discussion of 
       topics relating to the history, literature and languages, fine arts, 
       philosophy, and institutions of all forms of Buddhism.  It may also 
       serve as a forum for discussion of issues connected to the teaching 
       of Buddhist studies at the university level, and as a place for 
       posting notices of employment opportunities. 
    
       The primary purpose of this list is to provide a forum for serious 
       academic discussion.  It is open to all persons inside and outside 
       the academic context who wish to engage in substantial discussion of 
       topics relating to Buddhism and Buddhist studies.  BUDDHA-L is not to 
       be used for proselytizing for or against Buddhism in general, any 
       particular form of Buddhism, or any other religion or philosophy, nor 
       is it to be used as a forum for making unsubstantiable confessions of 
       personal conviction. 
    
       The discussion on the list is to be moderated, not in order to 
       suppress or censor controversies on any topic, but rather to limit 
       irrelevant discussions and idle chatter, and to redirect or return 
       messages sent to the list by accident.  Content or style will never 
       be altered by the moderator, whose only responsibility will be to 
       forward all appropriate postings to the list. 
    
       If you wish to subscribe to BUDDHA-L, send an e-mail message to 
       LISTSERV@ULKYVM.LOUISVILLE.EDU, or BITNET nodes can send to 
       LISTSERV@ULKYVM.  The message should contain only the following 
       command (ie. in the body of the mail): 
    
          SUBSCRIBE BUDDHA-L  
    
       Owner: 
          James A. Cocks 
          Senior Consultant Research/Instruction 
          University of Louisville 
            Internet:  JACOCK01@ULKYVM.LOUISVILLE.EDU 
              Bitnet:  JACOCK01@ULKYVM 
    
    34)---------------------------------------------------------------------
    
                  PENN STATE UNIVERSITY SEMINAR SERIES 
                           ISSUES IN CRITICISM 
    
                             Summer Seminar 
    
              Seminar on Historicisms and Cultural Critique 
    
                            June 25-30, 1992 
    
                       State College, Pennsylvania 
    
    WAI-CHEE DIMOCK, Department of English, University of California, 
    San Diego.  Author of Empire for Liberty: Melville and the 
    Poetics of Individualism (1989) and Symbolic Equality: Political 
    Theory, Law, and American Literature (forthcoming); co-editor of 
    the forthcoming Class and Literary Studies.  Professor Dimock 
    will focus on the shifting configurations of gender and history. 
    
    MARJORIE LEVINSON, Department of English, University of 
    Pennsylvania.  Editor of Rethinking Historicism (1989) and author 
    of Keats's life of Allegory: the Origins of Style (1988) and 
    other monographs treating Romantic poetry.  Professor Levinson 
    will concentrate on cultural materialism. 
    
    BROOK THOMAS, Department of English and Comparative Literature, 
    University of California, Irvine.  Author of Cross-Examination of 
    Law and Literature (1987) and The New Historicism and Other 
    Old-Fashioned Topics (1991).  Professor Thomas's central topic 
    will be the crisis of representation. 
    
    The Penn State Seminar on Historicisms and Cultural Critique 
    offers faculty members in departments of English and modern 
    languages the opportunity to survey the major issues in and 
    freshen their knowledge of approaches to literature that 
    emphasize the relations between text and culture, including those 
    presently identified under the broad label of the New 
    Historicism.  Seminar participants will hear presentations by 
    three well-known scholar-critics--Wai Chee Dimock, Marjorie 
    Levinson, and Brook Thomas--and engage in seminar-type 
    discussions organized by these leaders.  Registrants are asked to 
    indicate their first and second choices for morning seminar 
    groups.  The schedule and atmosphere are intended to encourage 
    informal discussions among participants. 
    
    For further information contact: 
    
    Wendell Harris 
    Department of English 
    Pennsylvania State University 
    University Park, Pennsylvania 16802 
    Telephone: 814-863-2343 or 814-865-9243 
    
    35)------------------------------------------------------------------------
    
    AFRICA-L on LISTSERV@BRUFPB.BITNET    Forum Pan-Africa
    
       A Pan-African forum for the discussion of the interests of African
       peoples (in Africa, and expatriate), and for those with an interest
       in the African continent and her peoples.  Of special interest will
       be ways to help facilitate the flow of communications (electronic and
       other) to and from Africa.  News, light-hearted discussions, and
       cultural and educational items are welcome.
    
       To subscribe to AFRICA-L send the following message to
       LISTSERV@BRUFPB: (Note that this is a BITNET address)
    
          SUBSCRIBE AFRICA-L your name and your African interests
          SET AFRICA-L REPRO
    
       For example,      subscribe africa-l J. Smith  Togo
                         set africa-l repro
    
       To obtain a list of current subscribers, send the message "review
       africa-l" to LISTSERV@BRUFPB.BITNET .
    
       List Owner:   Carlos Fernando Nogueira  (CTEDTC09@BRUFPB)
    
    36)------------------------------------------------------------------------
    
                          FEMREL-L on LISTSERV@UMCVMB.BITNET
    
       FEMREL-L is an open discussion and resource list concerning women 
       & religion and feminist theology.  Our goal is open, stimulating
       discussion on any and all issues pertaining to these topics.  All
       religions, creeds, beliefs, opinions, etc. are welcome, although we
       do ask that participants respect differences.
    
       To subscribe, send the following command to LISTSERV@UMCVMB via mail
       or interactive message:
    
          SUB FEMREL-L your_full_name
    
       where "your_full_name" is your name.  For example:
    
          SUB FEMREL-L Joan Doe
    
       Submissions to the list should be sent to:
    
          FEMREL-L@UMCVMB.BITNET
    
       Owners:  Cathy Quick 
                Bonnie Vegiard 
    
    37)------------------------------------------------------------------------
    
    AN ON-LINE CATALOGUE OF THE GEORGETOWN CENTER FOR TEXT AND TECHNOLOGY
    
    Since April 1989, the Center for Text and Technology of the
    Academic Computer Center at Georgetown University has been
    compiling information about projects in electronic text in the
    humanities.  Currently we have details on over 300 projects in 27
    countries.
    
    Because this information is constantly being updated, any printing
    would be obsolescent.  Consequently, we have created an on-line
    Catalogue that is searchable through Internet and dial-in access.
    Thus far, response has been gratifying; last month we logged over
    100 inquiries.
    
    An illustrated User's Guide to the Catalogue of Projects in
    Electronic Text is available free of charge through surface mail.
    In addition, a public-domain version of KERMIT and a keyboard-
    mapping program can be obtained through file transfer protocol
    (ftp).  For further information, please contact me personally at
    the address below, rather than sending to the list.
    
    James A. Wilderotter II
    Project Assistant
    Center for Text and Technology
    Academic Computer Center
    Reiss Science Building, Room 238
    Georgetown University
    Washington, DC 20057
    Tel. (202) 687-6096
    
    BITNET: Wilder@Guvax
    Internet: Edu%"Wilder@Guvax.Georgetown.Edu"
    
    38)------------------------------------------------------------------------
    
              ARL DIRECTORY OF ELECTRONIC JOURNALS, NEWSLETTERS, 
              AND SCHOLARLY DISCUSSION LISTS  (hard copy version)
    
    Although many journals, newsletters, and scholarly lists may be
    accessed free of charge through Bitnet, Internet, and affiliated
    academic networks, it is not always a simple chore to find out
    what is available.  The Directory is a compilation of entries for
    over 500 scholarly lists, about 30 journals, over 60 newsletters,
    and 15 "other" titles including some newsletter-digests.  The
    directory gives specific instructions for access to each 
    publication.  The objective is to assist the user in finding
    relevant publications and connecting to them quickly,  even if
    not completely versed in the full range of user-access systems.
    
    Content editor of the journals/newsletters section is Michael
    Strangelove, Network Research Facilitator, University of Ottawa.
    Editor of the scholarly discussion lists/interest groups is Diane
    Kovacs of the Kent State University Libraries.  The printed ARL
    directory is derived from widely accessible networked files
    maintained by Strangelove and Kovacs.  The directory will point
    to these as the principal, continuously updated, and
    free-of-charge sources for accessing such materials.
    
    Michael Strangelove's directory of electronic journals and 
    newsletters  is now available from the Contex-L fileserver and 
    consists of two files. These may be obtained, if you are at a 
    Bitnet site, by sending the interactive commands:
    
    Tell Listserv at UOttawa Get EJournl1 Directry
    Tell Listserv at UOttawa Get EJournl2 Directry
    
    or, from any e-mail site, by sending a mail message to 
    LISTSERV@UOTTAWA.BITNET with the text:
    
    Get EJournl1 Directry
    Get EJournl2 Directry
    
    No blank lines or other text should precede these lines, and no 
    other text should follow them.  For further information, 
    contact Michael Strangelove at 441495@UOTTAWA
    
    Diane Kovacs' directory of scholarly discussion groups is 
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  • Pee-Wee Herman and the Postmodern Picaresque

    Melynda Huskey

    Department of English
    North Carolina State University

     

    “Heard any good jokes lately?”

     

    –Pee-Wee at the MTV Music Awards

     

    It’s been six months since “Pee-Wee’s Big Misadventure” was released to an eager public; the July 26th arrest of Paul Reubens for indecent exposure spurred renewed interest in what had been a fading cult. Only die-hards were still taping Saturday morning “Playhouse” episodes, and “Big Top Pee-Wee” had disappointed fans hoping for another jeu d’esprit on the model of “Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure.” Even a blissful cameo in the otherwise pedestrian “Back to the Beach” (Pee-Wee, balanced precariously on a surfboard, was borne shoulder-high by avatars of Tito, the Playhouse’s hunky lifeguard) failed to spark real interest. According to Peter Wilkinson’s rather solemn post-mortem, “Who Killed Pee-Wee Herman?” Rolling Stone, 3 October 1991), Paul Reubens himself was weary of being Pee-Wee; he was ready to branch out. So Pee-Wee Herman is not likely to reappear except in re-runs for some time. MTV has picked up the five years’ worth of “Pee-Wee’s Playhouse” episodes; both “The Pee-Wee Herman Show,” a taped version of the club act that started the Pee-Wee story, and “Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure” enjoy moderate rentals in video stores. But Paul Reubens is no longer the post-industrial Casabianca, standing at attention on the burning deck of “Entertainment Tonight,” and his hip-hop claque has gone home.

     

    With Pee-Wee out of the way, I can finally justify a valedictory consideration of the supreme moment in his career, “Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure.” There is no denying that “Big Adventure” is the zenith of the Herman oeuvre; it is the central text in Pee-Wee criticism. “Big Top Pee-Wee,” in comparison, is an embarrassment–hardly worth a mention.

     

    Of course, one does not discount the importance of “The Pee Wee Herman Show.” The nightclub act which, astonishingly, sparked the children’s television show merits some consideration. Only the reckless would dismiss without reflection the amazing hypnotism dummy, Dr. Mondo, encouraging Joan the audience volunteer to disrobe, or Jambi’s eye-rolling delight over that new Caucasian pair of hands (“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time”). Not to mention Pee-Wee himself, crooning his anthem, “I’m the Luckiest Boy in the World.” In this version of the Playhouse, the keynote is struck by the opening words of the theme song: “Where do I go / When I want to do / What I know I want to do? / Pee-Wee’s Playhouse, Pee-Wee’s Playhouse.” The Playhouse draws visitors; there are no permanent residents except the furnishings–Jambi, Clockie–and Pee-Wee himself (if he does live there). Everyone else is a transient. The Playhouse is a liminal region. We see this theme taken up in the television version as well, with its elaborate closing sequence of Pee-Wee mounting his scooter for the dangerous leap onto the desert freeway. On television, though, everyone but Pee-Wee lives around or in the Playhouse. It’s still Pee-Wee’s place, but it is located firmly in the center of a neighborhood which is some distance from Pee-Wee’s primary home. In the nightclub version, all roads lead to Pee-Wee. Neighbors like Hammy are allowed to visit on sufferance, until Pee-Wee chooses to dismiss them. When Kap’n Karl and Miss Yvonne begin to like one another too much, Pee-Wee hustles them out of the Playhouse with realistic gagging gestures. But they all come back eventually. Pee-Wee is the center of this universe, the luckiest boy in this world.

     

    It is difficult to imagine that anyone who had seen the nightclub act agreed to let Pee-Wee have five years’ worth of Saturday kids’ programming. The focus of “The Pee-Wee Herman Show” is lipsmackingly infantile sexuality. Looking up skirts may be Pee-Wee’s most common behavior; in the course of one hour he uses shoe mirrors to reflect Hammy’s sister’s panties, holds Dr. Mondo (the aforementioned hypnotism dummy) under Joan’s dress before using his hypnotic powers to undress her, takes advantage of a graceful arabesque to peek up Miss Yvonne’s fluffy skirts. But the polymorphously perverse being what it is, there’s also the shyly masculine Hermit Hattie, courting Miss Yvonne with perfume and kind words, the swishily high-camp Jambi, the achingly Aryan, almost albino good looks of Mailman Mike, and M’sieur le Crocodile’s “Gator Mater Dating Service.” Without sexual attraction, there is no Playhouse; the show’s plot derives from Pee-Wee’s unselfish decision to share his wish with Miss Yvonne (that Kap’n Karl should really like her) rather than use it for himself. Not only does Pee-Wee give up his chance to fly, which he tells Pteri he’d rather do than shave, even, but he is abandoned by both Miss Yvonne and Kap’n Karl once they discover each other. The dreadful consequences of this amorous misdirection can be resolved only by Kap’n Karl admitting that he already liked Miss Yvonne. The childish sexuality which seeks pleasure not only through speculative consideration of the mysteries of sex, but also through wordplay (“I said your ear, not your rear!”) and sublimation, such as the wish to fly, is fully dramatized in the Playhouse.

     

    But for the Real Thing, the rich substance of Pee-Wee’s amorous being, we must leave the liminal world of the Playhouse and examine Pee-Wee’s everyday life, the life dramatized in “Pee Wee’s Big Adventure.” In that text the obvious and playful concern over child sexuality is discarded for a much more complexly developed world of sexual behavior.

     

    I have a theory about Tim Burton. I believe that he is recreating the great works of the English Romantics in suburban (or urban) American settings. Before you laugh, I submit for your consideration: “Batman,” the post-modern “Manfred.” Instead of the Alps, we have Gotham City skyscrapers. Instead of a guilt-ridden, incestuous relationship with a dead sister, a guilt-ridden, pointless relationship with brain-dead Vicki Vale. And most important, the cape, blowing back in the obediently melodramatic wind. Bruce Wayne, a Byronic hero for our time.

     

    And what about “Edward Scissorhands,” possibly the best version of Frankenstein committed to film in the last ten years? True, the Arctic wastes over which the horrifying creation wanders are reduced to blocks of ice in the Avon Lady’s backyard, but such is the postmodern condition. “Beetlejuice”? The merging of “This Old House” and Coleridge’s visionary (and characteristically incomplete) “Christabel.”

     

    And finally, I offer you “Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure.” “Childe Harold” and “Don Juan” both; a Byronic double-header for the big screen–a picaresque vision of the poet-lover as outcast filmed through a screwy postmodern lens. From the moment we see Pee-Wee cast his eyes impatiently to Heaven and say, “Dottie, there are things about me you wouldn’t understand. Things you couldn’t understand. Things you shouldn’t understand. I’m a loner, Dottie. A rebel,” we know that we are in the presence of Byronic greatness. And when, out of love beyond the ken of rich fat-boy Francis, Pee-Wee refuses to part with his bike–even for money–we know that tragedy must follow.

     

    Vladimir Propp offers us an elegant two-part summation of narrative: Lack, Lack Liquidated. The plot of “Big Adventure” recapitulates those terms. Pee-Wee loses his bike, goes to the Alamo to find it, and ends up in Hollywood, where he recovers it. While searching for his lost vehicle, he discovers his true place in the world through adventures with many new friends. But no summary can do justice to the picaresque sublime of the adventure. Pee-Wee travels from East to West Coast, from self satisfied isolation to integration, from wealth to poverty (and back), and from obscurity to celebrity. He is by turns a cowboy, a Hell’s Angel, a dishwasher, a hitchhiker, a hobo. He befriends a truckstop waitress with a jealous boyfriend, an escaped convict, a ghostly truck driver. And in the end, he returns triumphantly justified to his home town, with his bike, his new friends, and enlightenment. He turns his back on self aggrandizement with the words, “I don’t need to see it, Dottie. I lived it.”

     

    Like Don Juan, Pee-Wee is plagued throughout his adventures by unwelcome attentions. Dottie, the bikeshop mechanic, wants to go on a drive-in date with him. Simone-the-waitress’s jealous boyfriend Andy tries to kill him with a plaster of Paris dinosaur bone for watching the sun rise with her. The Queen of the “Satan’s Helpers” motorcycle gang wants to destroy him herself. But Pee-Wee is never moved by these desiring women–nor by the men who admire him, notably Mickey the convict and a jovial policeman who yearns for Pee-Wee in drag. He loves only his bike.

     

    The bicycle functions, in fact, as the true woman of the narrative. An object of extraordinary beauty, attended by falling cherry blossoms and ethereal music, the bike is supremely desirable. Francis, unable to obtain the bike legitimately, is forced by the excess of his need to have it stolen. But having taken it, he dares not keep it; the rest of the film is taken up with Pee-Wee’s unceasing quest for it. True love triumphs; Pee Wee’s journey is, although perilous, not fruitless. His dream visions of its destruction, his dead-end trip to the (nonexistent) basement of the Alamo at the instigation of Madame Ruby the fraudulent clairvoyant, are all submerged, in the end, in his daring rescue of the captive bike from a Hollywood studio. Reunited, Pee-Wee and bike are then revised for the big screen. The love story of a boy and his bike becomes, with only a few alterations, the love story of a top spy and his super motorcycle. Pee-Wee himself plays a bell-boy.

     

    The bike, like the vision which Shelley’s Poet follows in “Alastor, or the Spirit of Solitude,” is most clearly present in its absence. It inspires, provokes, and closes the narrative without ever acting alone. It must depend entirely on the actions of others–the perfect heroine. Dottie, by contrast, is too forward: she asks Pee-Wee out. She is too active: she has a job. And she is most closely identified with Pee-Wee’s other close friend, Speck the dog. The bicycle is the Neo-Platonic ideal of womanhood, beautiful, unattainable, distant. She must be earned by a hero willing to suffer greatly in her service. Francis cannot fulfill the task; he pays a greasy j.d. to steal her. Pee-Wee is willing to dress as a nun to rescue her from a mean-spirited child star.

     

    The picaresque adventure which forces Pee-Wee into heroic stature ends with his re-integration into ordinary life. Back in his hometown, he greets all his friends at a special screening of “his” movie. He passes through the crowd dispensing largesse–a foot-long hot dog concealing a file for his friend the convict, french-fries for Simone and her French sweetheart, candy for the Satan’s Helpers to scramble for. At last, seated on his bike, he pedals silently, eloquently, across the bottom of the drive-in screen, a man at peace with himself, ready to return to the quiet life he once shared unthinkingly with his darling bike, a wiser boy. Or man. Whatever he is.

     

    “Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure” articulates a central premise of post-modernism–the impassioned, erotic, inevitable love affair with technology. And it does so using an elegant pastiche of film and literary versions of the Neo-platonic, dream-visionary, questing romance–what we might call the true romance, with all that phrase’s resonance of cheap drugstore magazines as well as medieval poetry. The Playhouse offers us escape into the safe space of regression; the Big Adventure propels us–literary parachute firmly strapped on–into the strange desert freeway of the Future.

     

  • Impossible Music

    Susan Schultz

    Department of English
    University of Hawaii

    <schultz@uhccvm>

     

    Ashbery, John. Flow Chart. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1991.

     

    Bronk, William. Living Instead. San Francisco: North Point Press, 1991.

     

    I was in a large class at USC when he [Schoenberg] said quite bluntly to all of us, ‘My purpose in teaching you is to make it impossible for you to write music,’ and when he said that I revolted.
     

    — John Cage

     

    William Bronk and John Ashbery, despite their radical stylistic differences, both face what critic John Ernest has termed “a metaphysical stalemate.” Although Ernest is writing about Bronk, his description of that poet’s paradoxical project resonates for the reader of Ashbery’s work as well: “he is passionately devoted to the belief that there are no grounds for belief, and to the conviction that all convictions are ultimately fictions” (145). Both write what one might call “postmodern spiritual autobiographies” (145), memoirs of minds that are alienated from the very divinities that they sometimes invoke. And the two poets who take so much from Wallace Stevens–Bronk a snowman, Ashbery a comedian of the letter A–share that poet’s sense that supreme fictions can only be approached, but never achieved. Even more radically than Stevens (but in accord with Emerson, who believed that poets took dictation), Bronk and Ashbery locate the wellsprings of their poetry outside themselves. Ashbery writes toward the end of Flow Chart: “I’m more someone else, taking dictation / from on high, in a purgatory of words, but I still think I shall be the same person when I get up / to leave, and then repeat the formulas that have come to use so many times / in the past[.]” Bronk’s version is more direct; when asked in a rare interview if “the poem exists outside of you and you’re transcribing it,” he responded, “Of course, where else? Do you think it’s something in your goddamned head?” (39).

     

    Bronk and Ashbery both fulfill Robert Pinsky’s injunction, in The Situation of Poetry (1976), that poetry be discursive. Yet Pinsky’s definition of discursiveness also goes to the heart of what divides them. “On the one hand,” he writes, “the word describes speech or writing which is wandering and disorganized; on the other, it can also mean explanatory–pointed, organized around a setting forth of material” (134). Bronk’s material, however spontaneously it comes to him (his notebooks are apparently clean of revision), is always organized and explanatory, written in a poetic legalese that alerts the reader more to the necessity of silence than to that of speech. Ashbery’s poetry, on the other hand, has always wandered and seemed to argue for the value of language as a fruitful noise–a field of possibility rather than a fixed matrix.

     

    Bronk’s three recent volumes, Manifest; and Furthermore (1987), Death Is the Place (1989), and Living Instead (1991), have been what the poet himself has called “freeze-dried Bronk”–his severe deconstruction of the actual demands that his language become more spare, his poems shorter than they were (and they were never epic in length or intention). Bronk’s version of poetic self-destructionism follows; here he satirizes the social world of appearances:

     

           In a presence vast beyond size, a presence that seems
           an absence, we hide and play with us as dolls.
           We give us names and addresses, dress
           us up in clothes, make loves and resumes,
           battles, furtively say where we came from
           and tell each other stories about ourselves. ("Playtime," 73)

     

    In “The Camera Doesn’t Lie” he goes further: “We are, of course, without any areness at all / and that’s the only way we are.” Thus for Bronk “there are no ideas in things,” to which he feistily adds, “Take this, William Carlos” (27). Unlike Williams and Whitman, whose poetry he does not admire, Bronk turns to Thoreau at his most ascetic and most Baudrillardian: “Whitman liked the image, and Thoreau didn’t care for the image; that’s a big difference between the two of them. Whitman’s idea was to erect a pretty picture and pretend that was reality. Which God knows is as American an idea as there is: we keep doing it over and over again” (19).

     

    Even Bronk’s favorite structure, the house, lacks the permanence readers of poetry associate with images, since “No form we make is a form we can live in long” (“Formal Declaration”). Instead, we are our own, haunted, houses: “We are like houses to live in. / It lives in us; we are the house. / We thought we were tenants. That was all wrong,” and “There aren’t any people; there are houses that house. // Tenant, I am haunted by your presences” (“Habitation”). Likewise, he demystifies the places that we have used traditionally to define ourselves:

     

           Eden too, even Eden, we
           made up.  It means we always wanted a place
           and never have one--had to make them up
           and stories about them: Troy, Jerusalem,
           old world, new world, once found, believed, then
                lost. ("Homecoming," 73)

     

    Bronk’s vision is so focused, so certain, that he writes the same poem time and again. This can be seen as a virtue, if indeed it be the truth, but the reader may grow impatient, finally, with so many approaches to the same impasse. The images provided in “Walleted” and elsewhere, which only occasionally appear in Bronk’s work, are the field in which Ashbery operates, though Ashbery’s suspicions are probably no less strong than Bronk’s–suspicions that the truth is concealed, rather than revealed, in particulars.

     

    If the obvious question about Three Poems (1972) was why they were written in prose, then it’s fair to ask of Flow Chart why Ashbery wrote it as a poem, albeit in long Whitmanic lines. (Ashbery, doubtless, prefers Whitman to Thoreau.) Ashbery told an interviewer who asked about the genre-problem in Three Poems: “I wrote in prose because my impulse was not to repeat myself” (quoted in Howard 41). This anxiety about self-repetition earlier inspired Ashbery to make his most radical experiment, the Tennis Court Oath volume. Flow Chart takes a different tack, rather like Gertrude Stein’s when she claims that she markets not in repetition but in “insistence.” Ashbery acknowledges his repetitions, but typically denies that repetition is what we think it is (I am reminded of Ashbery’s remark that his work is not private, but about everyone’s privacy). Instead, he finds novelty in what gets repeated; “one is doomed, / repeating one self, never to repeat oneself, you know what I mean?” (7). And much later, a Steinian adage: “Repetition makes reputation.” Even instances of forgetting do not faze Ashbery, for “one can lose a good idea / by not writing it down, yet by losing it one can have it: it nourishes other asides / it knows nothing of, would not recognize itself in, yet when the negotiations / are terminated, speaks in the acts of that progenitor, and does / recognize itself, is grateful for not having done so earlier” (115). Thus one repeats even what one has forgotten.

     

    Repetition anxieties also contributed to Ashbery’s early refusals to write an autobiography; he once told an interviewer that, “My own autobiography has never interested me very much. Whenever I try to think about it, I seem to draw a complete blank” (Bellamy 10). Ashbery’s poetry has for the most part evaded his biography. What distinguishes Flow Chart from much of Ashbery’s previous work is its frank approach to the progress of Ashbery’s career.

     

    Yet Ashbery does not, finally, repeat himself in Flow Chart; if his wandering discourses bear structural similarities to previous work, then the vocabularies he uses are richer still than any to which we’ve become accustomed. Flow Chart, true to its title, includes the languages of Wall Street, guerrilla war, the wild west, big government (at times he sounds like a lyrical Alexander Haig), and sports (“If he wants to / wind up sidelined, in the dugout, that is OK with me”) (169). The final third of the poem employs archaic language, the “thee’s” and “thou’s” of Hart Crane and John Donne. In addition, Ashbery admits new situations to his poetry; one section introduces a mentally retarded woman in a hospital.

     

    The contemporary political situation also presents itself more overtly in Flow Chart than it has in Ashbery’s past work: “Each year the summer dwindles noticeably, but the Reagan / administration insists we cannot go to heaven without drinking caustic soda on the floor / of Death Valley” (175-6). So much for “morning in America.”

     

    So much, also, for Ashbery’s harshest critics, whose calls to arms Ashbery answers in Flow Chart. Frederick Pollack’s attack on Ashbery, in the New Formalist anthology of criticism, Poetry After Modernism, is typical. Pollack claims that Ashbery is “a consumer,” not an “investment broker,” like Stevens (one assumes he means a broker of taste).

     

    Endlessly eclectic, it thrives on attempts to anticipate it, and creates an atmosphere of unfocused irony which dissolves satire and corrodes values. It destroys the past by senti- mentalizing it until memory itself becomes first questionable, then laughable. Finally, when there is no value, anything can be equated with (sold for) anything. I am describing, among other things, a poetic. (24-5).

     

    If, as I am suggesting, the book is about the history of one poet’s mind, and engages almost all of the discourses of his time, these criticisms sound more hysterical than reasonable. Ashbery’s self- consciousness is ironic, but not valueless. Pollack’s uneasy conflation of “value” with “investments” is precisely the misuse of language that Ashbery habitually points to–not through polemics, but by exploding the cliches he so ably repeats.

     

    Ashbery’s promiscuities of language suggest a radical suspicion of its powers; one trades at times in things one distrusts. Yet Ashbery does not share Bronk’s repulsion to the surface languages that divert us from a silent truth; he does not blame the messenger, as several of his passages about language attest. Ashbery finds the search for the Logos as inherently doomed a project as any: “They all would like to collect it always, but since / that’s impossible, the Logos alone will have to suffice. / A pity, since no one has seen it recently” (33-4). Ashbery re-validates the image, though not as a stable construct. In a beautiful section of the poem, he writes:

     

                      You may contradict me, but I see life
          in the dead leaves beginning to blow across the carpet,
                paraffin skies, the beetle's forlorn
          wail, and all at once it recognizes me, I am valid
                                                          again,
                the chapter can close
          and later be mounted, as though on a stage or in an
                                                          album.(91)

     

    His account of his earlier days reflects his enjoyment of appearances, something I find lacking in much of Bronk’s work. He begins a section in a library, then recounts his exit, ending this cross-section of the poem with typical humor:

     

     
              Sometimes an important fact would come to light
          only to reveal itself as someone else's discovery,
                while I felt my brain getting chafed
          as everything in the reading room took on an unreal,
                somber aspect.  But outside, the streetscape
          always looked refreshingly right, as though scene-
                painters had been at work, and then,
          at such moments, it was truly a pleasure to walk along,
                surprised yet not too surprised
          by every new, dimpled vista.  People would smile at me,
                as though we shared some pleasant
          secret, or a tree would swoon into its fragrance,
                like a freshly unwrapped bouquet
          from the florist's.  I knew then that nature was my
                friend. (94)

     

    That this vision of nature includes its imitations by artists–the scene-painters of this passage–hardly matters to Ashbery, whose sense of beauty depends on accretion, not on diminution. Ashbery, unlike Bronk, absolutely revels in simulacra, the world as seen through bad movies about the world. This section ends with an encomium to the (real) real:

     

     
                I have only the world to ask for, and,
          when granted, to return to its pedestal, sealed,
                resolved, restful, a thing
          of magic enmity no longer, an object merely, but
                one that watches us
          secretly, and if necessary guides us
          through the passes, the deserts, the windswept
                tumult that is to be our home
          once we have penetrated it successfully, and all else
                has been laid to rest.(96)

     

    The poet’s prime temptation, according to Ashbery, is not language, but careerism; Ashbery is “a sophisticated and cultivated adult with a number of books / to his credit and many other projects in the works” (177). He is also a celebrated poet, one who knows the temptations of self-promotion: “All along I had known what buttons to press, but don’t / you see, I had to experiment, not that my life depended on it, / but as a corrective to taking the train to find out where it wanted to go” (123). He pokes fun at others’ impressions of him as a descendent to Whitman, with his “barbaric yawp”:

     

     
          Then when I did that anyway, I was not so much charmed
                as horrified
          by the construction put upon it by even some quite
                close friends,
          some of whom accused me of being the "leopard man" who
                had been terrorizing
          the community by making howl-like sounds at night, out
                of earshot
          of the dance floor. (123)

     

    This “old soldier” (124) confesses to the power of the critic (“an old guy”) to read his mind, a power that forces him back on himself: “you suddenly / see yourself as others see you, and it’s not such a pretty sight either, but at / least you know now, and can do something to repair the damage” (124). The creation of a reputation, with the collusion of the critics, is “a rigged deal” (125), but one that the poet earns responsibility for by “looking deeper into the mirror, more thoroughly / to evaluate the pros and cons of your success and smilingly refuse all / offers of assistance” (124).

     

    Where Bronk disdains Whitman, who markets in images, Ashbery sees himself as a less-tyrannical bard, one whose identity accrues through the voices around him, rather than one who demands that his reader share his every assumption. Continuing the train metaphor, he writes, “I see I am as ever / a terminus of sorts, that is, lots of people arrive in me and switch directions but no one / moves on any farther” (127). The poet is merely an “agent” (216), in all nuances of the word, from ticket agent to co-conspirator, who directs us to the now open bridge that ends the poem as inconclusively as Whitman did when he left his “Song of Myself” without a final period:

     

                                              We are
          merely agents, so
          that if something wants to improve on us, that's fine,
                but we are always the last
          to find out about it, and live up to that image of
                ourselves as it gets
          projected on trees and vine-coated walls and vapors in
                the night sky: a distant
          noise of celebration, forever off-limits.  By evening
                the traffic has begun
          again in earnest, color-coded.  It's open: the bridge,
                that way. (216)

     

    If Bronk maintains the Cartesian dichotomy between body and mind, with the sole proviso that the mind is not ours, then Ashbery purposefully confuses the division, acknowledging no separation between thoughts and the images that help us to think them, or that think through us. Douglas Crase is doubtless right when he claims that Ashbery’s poetry is strange to us only because it gives us back the world in which we live (30). That is also–paradoxically–why his poetry is more “habitable” than Bronk’s, which is far simpler (in the best sense of the word). Ashbery’s vision, however difficult, is inclusive, Bronk’s exclusive, swearing its audience to a silence every bit as strenuous as his own. His refusal to be shaped by that world means that he is at once less and more radical than Ashbery; that his revolution is also a reaction (as poetry approaches silence) means in a practical sense that Bronk’s career may be foreshortened in ways that Ashbery’s is not.

     

    Works Cited

     

    • Bellamy, Joe David. American Poetry Observed: Poets on Their Work. Urbana: U of Illinois P, 1984.
    • Crase, Douglas. “The Prophetic Ashbery.” In Beyond Amazement. New Essays on John Ashbery, Ed. David Lehman. Ithaca: Cornell UP, 1980. 30-65.
    • Ernest, John. “William Bronk’s Religious Desire.” Sagetrieb. 7.3 (Winter 1988): 145-152.
    • Howard, Richard. “John Ashbery.” In Modern Critical Views: John Ashbery. Ed. Harold Bloom. NY: Chelsea House, 1985. 17-47.
    • Pinsky, Robert. The Situation of Poetry: Contemporary Poetry and its Traditions. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1976.
    • Pollack, Frederick. “Poetry and Politics.” In Poetry After Modernism. Ed. Robert McDowell. Brownville, Oregon: Story Line Press, 1991. 5-55.
    • Weinfield, Henry, ed. “A Conversation with William Bronk.” Sagetrieb. 7.3 (Winter 1988): 17-44.

     

  • Comedy/Cinema/Theory

    James Morrison

    Department of English
    North Carolina State University

     

    Comedy/Cinema/Theory. Edited by Andrew Horton. Berkeley: U of California P, 1991.

     

    Comedy’s not pretty–as the title of an early-eighties Steve Martin album instructed us–and to judge from Comedy/Cinema/Theory it’s not very funny either. Peter Brunette on the Three Stooges: “In the refusal to have meaning, to make sense, the Stooges’ violence in fact constitutes an anti-narrative. It is precisely their violence, as an ‘originary’ writing, that both allows for and destroys narrative . . .” (178). Dana Polan on Hitchcock’s Mr. and Mrs. Smith: “Screwball comedy bears the traces of confusions and contradictions in a later moment of capital when this commodification of desire reaches new extremes” (146). Scott Bukatman on Jerry Lewis: “The feeling of entrapment and of the impossibility of action or change arises agonizingly. Within such spatiotemporal distension, the physical dominates character, as the individual is reduced to automaton . . . ” (195).

     

    Bound to become a standard in university film-comedy courses, this collection of essays eschews Lubitschean epigrams or Stoogean banana-peels in favor of Derridean stencils or Heideggerean slip-knots. The volume is necessary and useful, and some of the essays are brilliant, but the effect is at times one of unmistakable homogeneity. In his introduction, the book’s editor, Andrew Horton, makes much of the “non-essentialist . . . thus open-ended” (3) theoretical approaches the contributors favor, but by the time this panel of unreconstructed post-structuralists get through with it po-mo comedy looks a lot like any other po-mo genre (if post-modernism can be said to leave any genres in its wake, a question the contributors here never ask). It represses the feminine/maternal (as Lucy Fischer suggests); it articulates the phallocentrism of Hollywood’s unconscious (as Peter Lehman claims); its carnivalesque potential is either triumphantly realized (as in Horton’s own essay) or self-consciously stymied (as in Ruth Perlmutter’s), thereby either subverting dominant ideology (as in Stephen Mamber’s) or reproducing it (as in Dana Polan’s). Unapologetically recuperating the genre for post-structuralism (hereafter PS), the versions of comedy constructed in this volume tell as much about contemporary academic film criticism as they do about comedy itself. What the book most forcefully proves, finally, is that you can put the same top-spins on comedy that you can on, say, melodrama or horror or soap-opera–as if anyone ever doubted it.

     

    In fact, some may well have doubted it, and a book like this one is comparatively late in coming, after a line of similar anthologies dealing with less problematic genres, perhaps because of an assumption that comedy does not readily lend itself to PS analysis since, in effect, comedy beats the critic to it. Much eighties criticism of popular culture is heavily dependent on a conception of the text (and to a lesser extent of its consumer) as naive. Theories of comedy, though, tend to emphasize the selfconsciousness of the genre, claiming that comedy by its very nature draws attention to its own stylistic operations, explicitly positions its audience in relation to it, catalogues all its own intertexts–performs, that is, the very functions criticism of popular-culture ordinarily arrogates to itself. Lucy Fischer’s psychoanalytic discussion of “comedy and matricide,” “Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child,” in itself a fine essay, also exemplifies the effect of such critical claims to apprehending the “unconscious” level of a naive text in cultural criticism. Her analysis of the Howard Hawks film His Girl Friday (1940) finds in that text a particularly striking instance, because “the humorous text does not mandate [the mother’s] presence through the exigencies of plot” (65), of the “elimination of the maternal” she sees as endemic to Hollywood comedy. The “devaluation of the maternaI” (66) emerges here as, if not exactly unconscious, at least “gratuitous” (65) in Fischer’s view. But Fischer’s argument depends on her repression of the text’s keen self-consciousness about gender in, for example, its satirical references to the historical personae of its male actors, Cary Grant and Ralph Bellamy, or–more importantly–in its overt parody of its source, Hecht and MacArthur’s The Front Page (1928), by switching the gender of Hildy (male in the original) and thereby commenting on the homosocial potential of the prior text. Moreover, Fischer’s survey of “gratuitous comments that malign motherhood” (66) culminates with the most literal rendering in the film of the repression of the maternal:

     

    Finally, when Hildy's mother-in-law appears on the scene, Walter orders his cronies to cart the lady away, at which point she is bodily carried from the room. These images (of kidnapping, sudden death, and hanging) are resonant metaphors for the fate of the mother in comedy itself. (66)

     

    Fischer significantly fails to mention the return of the repressed mother (in the name, of course, of the Law of the Father) to seek revenge, a turning point in the film insofar as it is the mother who transgresses the text, insistently revealing what the narrative has concealed (an escaped prisoner in a roll-top desk). My point that Fischer effaces the self-consciousness of the text itself hardly invalidates her argument or undermines its gravity. The question is whether such effacement is required of a certain mode of criticism and whether, in that case, such criticism can answer without concession the special demands of an especially self-conscious genre.

     

    Indeed, a number of the essays in this book, either explicitly or implicitly, present comedy as the decisive link between Classical Hollywood and the impulses of modernism/ post-modernism. Brian Henderson’s study of “Cartoon and Narrative in the Films of Frank Tashlin and Preston Sturges” argues that Tashlin’s cartoon-like ellipses open, on what must be seen as a most unexpected site, a “gateway to the modern cinema” (158). Henderson’s argument pivots on comedy’s presumed greater formal liberty: Initially unavailable to other genres, the adventurous, brazen ellipses or paralipses of a Tashlin or a Sturges, licensed for comic purposes by the genre itself, trickle down to those other genres or movements, gradually eroding the stodgy “classicism” of the whole tradition. One of Henderson’s examples:

     

    Tashlin condenses the journey from Chicago to Las Vegas by cutting to various background locations behind (and around) the characters . . . it recalls in this respect Chuck Jones's remarkable Duck Amuck (1953) in which the backgrounds keep changing behind an increasingly frustrated Daffy Duck. (Godard's multiple cuts to Jean Seberg against ever-changing backgrounds in a car trip across Paris in Breathless is both cartoonlike in technique and a specific evocation of Hollywood or Bust [the Tashlin film].) (160)

     

    A more obvious precursor would be Keaton’s hyper-reflexive Sherlock Jr. (1923), but in fact Henderson may be essentializing this technique in his analysis. After all, an example of the same device appears in no less a film than Casablanca (1942), a movie often cited as the key example of Hollywood’s “classicism.” In the flashback sequence of that film, the dissolves among shifting backgrounds of Paris (in a close-up of Rick and Elsa driving) similarly condense their journey–but rather than reading the shots as a modernist elision, the audience is likely to read them simply as an instance of visual shorthand. Since, then, it would seem that such a device can be accommodated by classicism, the question becomes whether the distinction between “classical” and “modern” remains a useful category for film theory. Yet it is a distinction on which Henderson, like most of the contributors to the volume, insists, contrasting Tashlin with Sturges through it, for example: “[Sturges’s] ellipses are also classical: carefully built up to and returned from, never disrupting the viewer” (161). Or again:

     

    Several Tashlin ellipses lie somewhere between the classical and the modern. As a result, like Tashlin's work generally, they can be dismissed by classicists and dogmatic champions of modernism and valued by makers of cinematic modernism (Godard) and those as much interested in the becoming of a movement as in its achievement (right-thinking critics). (157)

     

    The binarism raises another question: Is Tashlin’s work of interest chiefly as an antecedent of Godard, the High- Modernist? The implication that it may be is redolent of an ethics of modernist self-formation, along the lines of earlier studies such as those of the English music-hall tradition claiming legitimacy from T.S. Eliot’s interest in that hitherto “low” tradition.

     

    The first half of the book consists of broad surveys of issues in film comedy: Fischer’s essay; Noel Carroll’s hectic encyclopedia of the sight-gag; a catalogue by Peter Lehman of penis-jokes in movies; Stephen Mamber’s “In Search of Radical Metacinema”; and Charles Eidsvik’s survey of Eastern European comedy films. The title of Mamber’s essay indicates one of the recurrent concerns of the section, crucial to every essay but Carroll’s: Is comedy “radical,” in some way inherently subversive of an established order? In the introduction, Horton implies that the question has already been settled in his reference to “comedy’s . . . subversion of norms” (8). Yet Fischer and Lehman see comedy’s claim to subversive potential as illusory. Lehman’s thesis is that “one of the most important functions of comedy in cinema is to sneak a joke by almost unnoticed, make us laugh, and then allow us to forget that we ever thought something was funny” (58), while Fischer, as we have seen, traces the process in comedy by which “woman–once the core of the joke structure (as the target of sexual desire)–is eventually eliminated from the scene entirely and replaced by the male auditor” (62). Mamber and Eidsvik are readier to grant comedy its radical force, Eidsvik by way of the overtly political nature of Eastern European comedy and Mamber through the route of post-modern parody, finding the signifiers of Kubrick’s parodic The Shining, for example, pointing “not to a failed horror film, as so many reviews stupidly labeled it, but to a deliberately subverted one” (84).

     

    In the book’s second half, contributors focus on individual films or important comic figures. William Paul’s “Charles Chaplin and the Annals of Anality” argues that previous critics have ignored the “vulgar humor” that is “central to Chaplin’s vision” (120), failing to emphasize “the raucously insistent lover body imagery” (117) of his work. Replacing such imagery in what he takes to be its properly privileged place, Paul finds that the key questions raised by Chaplin’s work are “How can upper and lower body be made whole? How can the spiritual grace we accord the eyes be made commensurate with the other organs that bring us into contact with the outside world . . . ?” (125). Dana Polan’s “The Light Side of Genius” reads Mr. and Mrs. Smith through the paradigms of screwball comedy as much as through those of Hitchcockian authorship, concluding that “in the classical mode of Hollywood production, it may well be that too much emphasis on the singularities of a career may lead us to overvalue the individual director as someone special, a figure outside the dominant paradigms” (150). Ruth Perlmutter’s essay on Woody Allen’s Zelig sees it as an example of parody as “autocritique” (207); Bukatman’s on Lewis sees him as a key example of male hysteria; Brunette’s on the Three Stooges and Horton’s on Dusan Makavejev find varying degrees of comic subversion in these texts, while the volume is rounded out by Henderson’s fine essay on Tashlin and Sturges.

     

    It is possible to point to weaknesses in individual contributions: Carroll’s is simply inconclusive; Perlmutter’s repeats without citation much of Robert Stam’s treatment of the same film in his book on Bakhtin and cinema, Subversive Pleasures (1989); Horton’s idealizes the carnivalesque: “Makavejev shows us that innocence can be protected through knowing laughter” (232). It is more useful, however, to identify assumptions shared across the range of contributors that confer on the book, for all the varied inflections of each critic, a certain ideological sameness, even perhaps a certain intellectual complacency. Here the figure of Bakhtin emerges as crucial, for well over half the contributors draw upon Bakhtin’s ideas to illuminate film comedy. It is not surprising at this stage in the evolution of PS to find Bakhtin constructed as the touchstone for theories of the comic in popular culture: the surprise, I suppose, is that Bakhtin does not figure prominently in every essay collected here. What is striking about the use made here of Bakhtin–that enemy of the totality of genre, that celebrator of the disruptive potential of laughter–is how fully domesticated he has become in this book’s version of him. After painstaking exegeses of Bakhtin by Horton, Fischer, Paul, Brunette and others, we come to the one authentically comic moment in this volume when Perlmutter blithely introduces us at the outset of her essay to one “Mikhail Bakhtin, Russian literary theorist” (206)–which in this context falls on the ear rather like “Gustave Flaubert, the noted French author.” Reading this book, one is re-introduced to Bakhtin so many times, each time as if it were the first, that one begins to dread the inexorable approach of this wan specter with its steady tread and its joyless homilies!

     

    It’s (possibly) unfair to criticize a collection for the uniformity of its critical practices (if it’s a crime, nearly every anthology in film studies is guilty); and it’s philistine to suppose that a book about comedy should be spirited or exuberant–that it’s the task of criticism to share or even to be responsive to the superficial predispositions of its object. This book is an excellent contribution to film studies, and in pointing to its moral gravity and its analytic earnestness one risks being identified with a slob who grouses that those insufferable pointy-heads are at it again, ruining the belly-laughs for the rest of us. But the question I’m really asking is whether PS–especially given its enthusiastic valorization of carnival–is ever going to be capable of having any fun.

     

  • Sliding Signifiers and Transmedia Texts: Marsha Kinder’s Playing with Power

    Lisa M. Heilbronn

    Department of Sociology
    St. Lawrence University

    <lhei@slumus>

     

    Kinder, Marsha. Playing with Power in Movies, Television and Video Games; From Muppet Babies to Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Berkeley: U of California P, 1991.

     

    What are we talking about when we talk about media “effects”? This may be one of the most pressing questions to face those who want to approach the media from an interdisciplinary (and in the case of communications studies one might also say intradisciplinary) perspective. Are we addressing behavior? ideology? psychology? Playing With Power is an ambitious attempt to discuss children’s media use in the broadest possible theoretical, social and economic contexts. Marsha Kinder attempts to connect the behavior effects of these media (absorption in the video game or television program, consumption patterns, eye-hand coordination, etc.) with their ideological effects (consumerism and patriarchy chief among them) by linking both to the psychological and cognitive effects of video on developing children. She does this using an approach which combines consideration of entertainment industry policy and decision-making with the decoding of cultural texts. This is laudable, particularly when the analysis also attempts to take into account consumer interaction with the text as both commodity and symbol system.

     

    The book has five chapters and a substantial appendix detailing two field study/interview situations with children. The subject matter covered in the chapters spirals out from a core of psychoanalytic, cognitive, and cultural theory through increasingly complex media situations to break off with a consideration of global political economics. Its fundamental goal is the exploration of “how television and its narrative conventions affect the construction of the subject” (3). The structure is designed to represent the “strategy of cognitive restructuring” it studies.

     

    This is, to a degree, a personal quest. Kinder uses her son Victor’s development of narrative and involvement with interactive video as the keystone of her study, and includes his friends among her interview subjects in the appendixes. Her son and other “postmodern” children value the interactivity of Saturday morning television and video games, and the commodities associated with them and are bored by the unified subject represented by conventional film. This interests and concerns Kinder. Much of her discussion is implicitly organized around the contrast between “the unified subject, associated with modernism and cinema; and the decentered consumerist subject, associated with postmodernism and television” (40). She weighs each subject in terms of its position relative to this dichotomy. Transmedia intertextuality, for example, “valorizes superprotean flexibility as a substitute for the imaginary uniqueness of the unified subject” (120).

     

    Kinder suggests that “readers who are less interested in theory” skip over the theoretical section of the first chapter. This section is only a scant twenty-three pages as it is. This may represent a bid for a popular audience more interested in reading about the toys which fascinate their children and the industry which produces them than in the differences between Kristeva and Piaget. However, this leaves the reader with a slim foundation for much of the later analysis. For example, the theoretical section states that “intertextual relations across different narrative media” (2) are the primary focus of the book, but the reader is given only one paragraph with quotations from Bakhtin and Robert Stam on intertextuality. There is even less information provided on the meaning of signs, signifiers, and what Kinder calls “sliding signifiers.” There seems to be an implicit assumption that the reader is already familiar with such concepts, and with the work of Beverle Houston and Susan Willis which informs the discussion.

     

    More space is devoted to stitching together Piaget’s theory of genetic epistemology, (6-9) and psychoanalytic theory (9-15). However, Kinder leaves certain key questions unresolved. After pointing out that cognitive theory “does not perceive gender differentiation as the linchpin to subject formation within the patriarchal symbolic order,” and that she believes this “`naturalizes’ patriarchal assumptions” (9), Kinder states that she will “position this cognitive approach within a larger framework of post- structuralist feminism” (10). How will she do this? By appropriating “from both models . . . ideas particularly useful for theorizing this dual form of gendered spectator/player positioning at this moment in history” (10). This begs the question: Kinder makes a flurry of allusions to the work of David Bordwell, Edward Branigan, Louis Althusser, and Jacques Lacan, but there is no sustained argument to demonstrate that her two theoretical models can be reconciled.

     

    Without a strong theoretical foundation, Kinder’s claim in Chapter Two–that Saturday morning television creates a gendered, consumerist subjectivity–becomes problematic. Her analysis of the intertextual content of shows such as “Garfield” and “Muppet Babies,” and the programming strategies behind them is very enjoyable. But does a commercial for a building set specifically for girls really imply “that all other similar toys are intended exclusively for boys,” so that “if the young female viewer already owns a set of building blocks, then, it instantly becomes inappropriate and therefore obsolete” (50-51)?

     

    Kinder also develops the concept of “animal masquerade” in which we

     

    alleviate anxiety and gain an illusory sense of empowerment by bestowing our conception of human individuality onto animals . . . by letting them substitute for missing members of the dysfunctional family

     

    and which she claims “help[s] us see beyond the waning nuclear family and the growing influence of the single mother by ‘naturalizing’ alternative models for human bonding” (73-4). The discussion as a whole is often quite compelling, but disturbingly ahistorical. What of Aesop, Winnie the Pooh, Uncle Remus, Coyote Trickster and other names associated with animal tales throughout history? How much can we hang on consumer society and postmodernism? The argument would be stronger if it differentiated between earlier types of animal masquerade and the particular type of commodified animal figure she is discussing.

     

    The strongest chapters are Three, on the Nintendo Entertainment System, and Four, which focusses on the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and their transmedia success. Kinder gives a lucid and gripping account of the development of the video game and particularly of Nintendo’s success in implementing “`razor marketing theory’ . . . a strategy of focusing on the development and sale of software (whether a game cartridge, a Barbie outfit, or a razor blade) that is compatible only with the company’s unique hardware” (91). The cognitive perspective works well here. Kinder’s discussion of Vygotsky’s “zone of proximal development,” and her argument that video game-playing can cause cognitive acceleration, are convincing (111-119). The feminist psychoanalytic theory in the section on “Oedipalization of Home Video Games” is less convinving. Kinder jumps from the highly qualified assumption that the “marketing of video games seems to be primarily to those with, potentially, the most intense fear of castration” (102), to a unqualified assertion that video games are “oedipalized.” By this she seems to mean that their violent content appeals more to boys than girls because (although she offers no evidence) it “can help boys deal with their rebellious anger against patriarchal authority” (104). But the “oedipalization” becomes causal–it “accounts for certain choices within its system of intertextuality” (104). Although Kinder states her belief that “within our postmodernist culture and at various developmental stages of this ongoing generational struggle between parents and child, other media situated in the home such as television and video games substitute for the parents” (22) the book needs far more evidence before it can support this claim.

     

    Kinder then turns to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles supersystem, defining a supersystem as a network which

     

    must cut across several modes of image production; must appeal to diverse generations, classes, and ethnic subcultures, who in turn are targeted with diverse strategies; must foster `collectability' through a proliferation of related products; and must undergo a sudden increase in commodification, the success of which reflexively comes a `media event' that dramatically accelerates the growth curve of the system's commercial success. (123)

     

    She makes excellent use of journalistic sources, and makes the phenomena comprehensible. The gender analysis in this section–discussing male and female masquerade and the ways in which TMNT as “the ultimate sliding signifiers” (135) reveal masculinity to be culturally constructed–seems well supported.

     

    The final chapter, which discusses the growing “network of commercial intertextuality” (172) formed by CNN global news coverage, Japanese acquisition of American “software,” and HDTV was interesting. It is subtitled an afterword, and as such seems somewhat tentative and tangential to her argument. It lacks discussion of the claims that international marketing leads to a declining emphasis on dialogue and a focus on the visual and violent as the commodities reach a transnational audience with little in the way of a shared culture.

     

    Kinder includes two appendixes which cover small “empirical studies” she conducted in July of 1990. Although she states explicitly that the studies (one based on eleven interviews with children from five to nine, the other on twelve interviews with children from six to fourteen) “provide neither a solid basis for the ideas expressed in this book nor an adequate test of them” (173), she notes that they are included because they “raise new issues (such as the effect of ethnic, racial, class and gender differences on children’s entrances into supersystems like the Teenage Mutuant Ninja Turtle network)” (173). In fact, there is nothing in the interviews themselves which raises issues of ethnicity, race or class. These dimensions are raised by Kinder earlier in the book when she introduces the concern that if video games do contribute to an acceleration of certain stages of cognitive development, the middle class who are better able to afford Nintendo systems and other computer systems in the home, will be differently advantaged. I would say that, as presented, the studies supply no information on this point. (For example, there is no information on how the class status of her second group of subjects, approached at a video game arcade, was collected.) Gender differences are more apparent from the data. Were I the researcher, I believe I would have opted to omit the material.

     

    This book is extremely ambitious. It is to be commended for its open-minded approach to what some observers find the greatest item of concern regarding interactive video–the child’s absorption in the system and the commodity culture which surrounds it, and for its attention to the “latent” effects which are less commented on–reinforcement of patriarchal gender roles and global economic systems. It contains some excellent references, provocative theory, and excellent program and film analysis. It raises interesting questions, and should stimulate the reader to review and challenge the assumptions s/he holds about children and media.

     

  • Technoculture: Another, More Material, Name for Postmodern Culture?

    Joseph Dumit

    History of Consciousness Program
    University of California-Santa Cruz

    <jdumit@cats.ucsc.edu / jdumit@cats.BITNET>

     

    Penley, Constance, and Andrew Ross, eds. Technoculture. Minneapolis: U Minnesota P, 1991.
     

    “If we want technology to liberate rather than destroy us, then we–the techno/peasants–have to assume responsibility for it.”

    –The Techno/Peasant Survival Manual 1

     

    Perhaps the question is, what isn’t technoculture? The two parts of this word, techno(logy) and culture are actively contested in contemporary social criticism. Donna Haraway, for instance, has read the logos of techne as “translatable/transferable technique,” and then more closely as “frozen labor”.2 Haraway draws attention to the accountable, though usually unaccounted for, aspects of “our” artifacts, our shirts, our computers, our words. She asks: “How is the world in the object, and the object in the world?”3 With regard to culture, it is precisely these webs of interconnection and constructed barriers of individuation which are under attack within and without anthropology: “culture” as a signification of privilege, by the privileged. Under these lights, technoculture points toward a world where the high and low speed technique-transfers are the common culture, and where “culture” is a technology.

     

    Technoculture, the book, looks in this and other directions. Penley and Ross use technoculture in their introduction almost always in the phrase “Western technoculture” and situate technocultural situations as stemming from technology transfer problems and creative appropriations. “The essays collected in Technoculture are almost exclusively focused on what could be called actually existing technoculture in Western society, where the new cultural technologies have penetrated deepest, and where the environments they have created seem almost second nature to us” (xii). While Western now apparently includes Japan, it is important to reflect on the role of this monster word, “technoculture,” and the world it invokes.

     

    The terrain claimed by Technoculture has been approached from a variety of angles. Cultural studies is the most obvious one, though this field has often shied away from emphasizing machines. Social studies of science has a long history of looking at what has come to be called technoscience–in Bruno Latour’s terms, “all the elements tied to the scientific contents no matter how dirty, unexpected or foreign they may seem.”4 Technoscience, and therefore science studies, should be looking at more than laboratory science. Sal Restivo has most vigorously challenged science studies and cultural studies by reintroducing C. Wright Mills’s sociological imagination and calling for a revisioning of the relations of science and society, for seeing science as a social problem and thinking towards what Sandra Harding calls “successor science.”5 Books such as Cyborg Worlds, Women, Work, and Technology, Technology and Women’s Voices, and the Anthropology of Technology, address concerns which readily fit under the title of Technoculture and should be seen as complements to it.6

     

    The contents of Technoculture range from traditional American cultural studies (reading texts and commenting on culture), literary genre criticism, and ethnography, to historical and practical activist manuals. Ignoring Penley and Ross’s prescriptions that “it is the work of cultural critics, for the most part, to analyze that process [of cultural negotiation] and to say how, when, and to what extent critical interventions in that process are not only possible but also desirable” (xv), the contributors have a wide variety of takes on what it means to be a cultural critic writing an edited book section. We can situate Technoculture then in a busy intersection7 of academic interests and note some special needs to which it points and which it begins to address: (1) building on the cultural studies subversion of the high/popular split, it expands studies of technology in society to everyday appropriations; (2) it pays attention to the media’s role in scientizing us as well as in selling science;8 (3) parts of it draw upon fieldwork and provide practical histories and analyses, pushing in the direction of applied cultural studies; and, (4) by refusing to posit monstrous enemies in control of technology (especially of communications technologies), it provides models for rethinking intellectual technophobia.

     

    Technoculture begins with an interview of Donna Haraway, “Cyborgs at Large,” followed by her postscript to the interview, “The Actors are Cyborg, Nature is Coyote, and the Geography is Elsewhere.” Returning to the “Cyborg Manifesto,” the questions and imperatives of naming complex and contradictory situations are humorously, seriously foregrounded. Do we “cultural critics” still want to name Malaysian factory workers cyborgs, and why? Figuring out how to be accountable for naming while still speaking (English, in this case) is the challenge put forth by Haraway: “My stakes are high; I think ‘we’–that crucial riven construction of politics–need something called humanity and nature” (25).

     

    In conversation with this question of the politics and stakes of naming is Valerie Hartouni’s important, nightmarishly optimistic analysis, “Containing Women: Reproductive Discourse in the 1980s.” Carefully examining the issues and language of such articles as “Brain-dead Mother has Baby,” Hartouni skillfully unravels the frustrated attempts of journalists, scientists and judges to re-normalize the new biotechnologies of human reproduction. What she finds among admittedly conservative nuclear-family rhetoric are the open possibilities left in the “instability and vulnerability of privileged narratives about who we are . . . Naming and seizing these possibilities however, require imagination, a new political idiom, as well as a certain courage–to eschew a lingering attachment to things ‘natural’ and ‘foundational’” (51). By paying so much attention to how media constructions, anti-abortionists, senate subcommittees, infertility clinics and women’s movements materially interact with each other, Hartouni is able to show places where naming can reorder parts of the world and reconfigure rights and reproduction. “Containing Women” sets an important challenge for cultural critics.

     

    In another kind of media analysis, “‘Penguin in Bondage’: A Graphic Tale of Japanese Comic Books” by Sandra Buckley takes on the history of Japanese mass-erotica and pornography. Deftly drawing out the subversive uses and ruses of girl and boy comic books, Buckley shows how popular media can challenge and even change gender and sexuality configurations. She contrasts these adventurous books with technoporn, which unfortunately is given an extreme determinism; it “insinuates the reader into the graphics of the narratives . . . [and] literally captures the imagination and the fantasy of the male consumer” (192). Still, her discussion of pornography and the struggles over it in Japan are insightful, and her analysis of how the books are consumed and discussed as well as of their content is valuable.

     

    A different set of articles reports on current cultural phenomena, looking for signs of resistance and subversion. Peter Fitting, Andrew Ross, Jim Pomeroy and Reebee Garafalo are poised to judge the politics of new cultural arenas. Understanding their audience to be other left critics, they array their examples to defeat other, more limited theories. Fitting begins with a close genre reading of cyberpunk science fiction (crystalized in William Gibson and Bruce Sterling) as a brave but misguided attempt to come to terms with the postmodern corporatist present. Drawing on Fredric Jameson and Haraway, “The Lessons of Cyberpunk” charts the seductions and difficulties of postmodern critics in using this brand of science fiction. Fitting acknowledges that Gibson’s is a corporatist, “violent, masculinist future” which is not to his liking (307), but insists, nevertheless, in finding “some potentially contestatory options” in it (311). Unfortunately, after dismissing a self-defined cyberpunk subculture, the only “readers” Fitting acknowledges seem to be other left critics. How cyberpunk is read and used by others, contestory or not, seems not to matter.

     

    Andrew Ross’s contribution, “Hacking Away at the Counterculture,” takes on the media construction of hackers, people who use computer systems and networks innovatively, extracurricularly, and illegally. He sensitively tracks their construction as deviant boys who with better rearing will serve the country well, which most of them did. Most interesting is his plea for expanding the definition of hackers to include on-the-job slow-ups, minor and major sabotage, and other forms of resistance to corporate and government surveillance and scientific management. His equally intriguing, though unconnected, concluding call is for making cultural critics’s “knowledge about technoculture into something like a hacker’s knowledge.” He goes on recklessly, however, to makeover this cultural hacking into redemptive practice, into “rewriting the cultural programs and reprogramming the social values that make room for new technologies” (132).

     

    Garafalo and Pomeroy discuss mega-musical events (e.g. Live Aid) and techno-artists (e.g. Mark Pauline of Survival Research Laboratories). Both looking hard for politics, each finds only ambivalence, ambiguity and contradictions. Garafalo, for instance, assesses mega- events as political leaders in the 1980s “in the relative absence of [political movements]” (249), but misses the “World Beat” curatorship of non-American music by such artists as Paul Simon,9 any mention of such musical forces as reggae and rap as political (Public Enemy is mentioned but only for its contribution to Do the Right Thing), and acknowledgement of 1980s political movements: gay and lesbian rights, anti-nuclear, environmentalism, anti-apartheid as movements in spite of mega-events.

     

    Houston A. Baker Jr. takes a more critical, nuanced turn at ambivalence in “Hybridity, the Rap Race, and Pedagogy for the 1990s” with a rich and rhythmic tribute to rap’s innovational history and its liberating possibilities: “Rap is the form of audition in our present era that utterly refuses to sing anthems of, say, white male hegemony” (206). Controversial perhaps, as he tells of teaching Shakespeare’s Henry V as a rapper, he also raises but leaves untouched issues of homophobia and “macho redaction,” leaving the reader waiting to hear the next verse.

     

    Most appealing to my activist and anthropological sensibilities are the articles by The Processed World Collective, DeeDee Halleck, Constance Penley and Paula Triechler. Each of these essays traces current empowering interventions which make use of mass media tactics and create new ways of living. “Just the Facts, Ma’am: An Autobiography” tells the story of Processed World magazine. Started by a small collective of dissident office workers in 1981, PW’s “purpose was twofold: to serve as a contact point and forum for malcontent office workers (and wage workers in general), and to provide a creative outlet for people whose talents were blocked by what they were obliged to do for money” (231). By detailing the ways in which the PW collective organized itself, disseminated information (conversations on the street, expos, tours of Silicon Valley), published, and thought–“Rebellion can be fun, humor subversive . . . make people feel good about hating their jobs” (238)–“Just the Facts” inspires and informs by providing workable suggestions.

     

    DeeDee Halleck provides a similar contribution regarding Paper Tiger Television in “Watch Out, Dick Tracy! Popular Video in the Wake of the Exxon Valdez.” Critically examining the trickle-down theory of communications technology, Halleck poses the question, “Is it possible to have a populist vision of the process of electronic production?” (216). She answers by showing first that active audio-video technology (camcorders and VCRs over laser disks) has always been preferred by consumers and has been incorporated into organizations and groups readily. Second, and most importantly, she provides a history of the public-access movement wherein local groups produced and aired their own shows. Halleck was one of the founders, in 1981, of Paper Tiger Television and the Deep Dish Satellite Network which have provided encouragement, models, and funding for critical, responsive, low-budget programs. She continues that tradition here.

     

    Other consumers of the active VCRs have formed their own communities based on humorous, subversive rereadings and re-presentations of mass culture. In “Brownian Motion: Women, Tactics, and Technology,” Constance Penley reports on slashers: groups of women who have taken the Star Trek series and produced fiction, graphics, videos, fanzines and conventions around a Kirk/Spock homosexual story. “Slasher” notes the slash between Kirk and Spock (K/S). These groups have retooled passive TV and masculinity with the appropriate technology of science fiction, copiers, mailing lists and VCR editing. Penley’s close observation of and participation in this community is rewarded with a thought-provoking account of their insights and their struggles.

     

    Paula Triechler focuses on a larger scale retooling, that of human access to health, the medical establishment, and the FDA. In “How to Have Theory in an Epidemic: The Evolution of AIDS Treatment Activism,” she tells an inspiring history of AIDS drug regulation and approval processes, ACT UP, and the ongoing negotiations of persons with AIDS and people at risk for it (everyone) within our bureaucratic media-organized world. “This version of AIDS treatment activism, probably best exemplified in real life by ACT UP, invokes several essential elements of the movement: a vision of the power structure that calls for unleashing the power and knowledge of resistant forces; expertise about technology and science, the politics of the federal bureaucracy, biomedical research, and economics; self-education; and the use of tactics including civil disobedience, lawbreaking, infiltration, and seizing control of the media” (71). “Evolution” needs the complement of books like Women, AIDS and Activism by The ACT UP/NY Women and AIDS Book Group, which tells the many stories of continuing absence of care and concern over communities of color and women.10 Nevertheless, Triechler’s article demonstrates both the effectiveness of new kinds of struggles and the enormity of the challenge: “these negotiations . . . involve significant renegotiations of the geography of cultural struggle–of sources of biomedical expertise, relations between doctor and patient, relationships of the general citizenry to science and to government bureaucracies, and debate about the role and ownership of the body” (97).

     

    Halleck’s, Penley’s, Triechler’s and the Processed World Collective’s pieces are important because they provide evidence of what people have done, and can do, with mass-produced culture by using the tools which produce that culture, thereby revising their world. This approach, which tells how things are done, which disseminates information in an age run by information, but more by the privatization of information, makes the most of a collected work’s format.

     

    Each of the articles in Technoculture tells the story of communities which are perhaps best described as virtual.11 These communities are constituted not around face-to-face meeting, but around common access to newsletters, TVs, books, computer bulletin boards and music. These media and their accompanying machines– desktop publishing, fax, copiers, modems, VCRs, record players, tape players, satellite transponders–are as much part of these communities, part of the everyday, as language. Documenting ways of living, surviving, multiplying (converting and disseminating) and helping others to do the same is the laudable aim of this book. Missing, however, is a questioning and situating of how technophobia and technophilia are in the world, how they are differently positioned and engendered in people, and how they often may be appropriate responses and survival strategies. Too often, in proposing a “middle path,” relations to machines and jobs are simply pathologized, dismissed as errors.

     

    Returning to the other technocultural analyses mentioned at the beginning, we note that some of the so- called luddite responses to nuclear power, to certain surveillance technologies, and to various attempts at industrialization and automation may be a reaction against a technological meliorism which ignores those whose ways of living are being disrupted or placed under siege. The technophilic embrace of scientific professions, medical science, and even weapons systems, must be moderated by an understanding of the implications of such things for race, class, gender, morbidity, and the international community. Studying technoculture, as opposed to studying technology or studying culture, should mean addressing the variable configurations of lives and forms of life which are involved in our nuclear (post-WWII) world.

     

    In this milieu then, in Technoculture, we find cyborgs, women’s reproductive systems, ACT UP, hackers, slashers, pornography, rappers, public access groups, office anarchists, mega-musicians, techno-artists and cyberpunks. Most of these are defined by their relation to electronic media; they are also, by and large, recent popular media personalities, and all but Triechler focus on the U.S. In this sense, Technoculture locates and names itself as American high-tech pop-culture studies, and it is in this sense that technoculture and postmodern culture are used interchangeably. In the intersection of cultural studies, anthropology, history of technology and social movements, and science studies, it draws attention to this mass cultural realm. But often this is a different topos, a different sense of place, from the “technoculture” of world-webs bound by accountability to frozen labor named at the beginning. The best parts of Technoculture do succeed in this accounting, aiding in envisioning and living better lives, presenting new and successful communities, and doing so with a critical optimism.

     

    Notes

     

    1. Print Project, 1980, The Techno/Peasant Survival Manual, New York: Bantam Books, 5.

     

    2. Donna Haraway, 1991, Science and Politics lectures, UCSC.

     

    3. How materially, historically, politically, economically, mythologically, semiotically do these objects persist, what sorts of labor produced it, transported it, marketed it, consumed it, disposed of it, what are the histories of these labors, what labor supports those laborers . . .

     

    4. Latour, Bruno, 1987, Science in Action, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 174.

     

    5. Restivo, Sal, 1988, “Modern Science as a Social Problem,” Social Problems, Vol. 35, No. 3, June; Harding, Sandra, 1986, The Science Question in Feminism, Ithaca: Cornell University Press.

     

    6. Levidow, Les, and Kevin Robbins, ed., 1989, Cyborg Worlds: The Military Information Society, London: Free Association Books; Wright, Barbara Drygulski, ed., 1987, Women, Work, and Technology: Transformations, Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press; Kramarae, Cheris, ed., 1988, Technology and Women’s Voices: Keeping in Touch, London: Routledge and Keagan Paul; Hess, David, 1992, Anthropology and Technology.

     

    7. The metaphor of culture as a busy intersection belongs to Renato Rosaldo (1989, Culture and Truth, Boston: Beacon Press.)

     

    8. Nelkin, Dorothy, 1987, Selling Science: How the Press Covers Science and Technology, New York: W.H. Freeman and Company.

     

    9. Cf. Stephen Feld, 1990, “Curators of World Beat: An Ethnomusicological Approach”; a paper presented at Society for Cultural Anthropology Meeting.

     

    10. The ACT UP/NY Women and AIDS Book Group, 1990, Women, AIDS and Activism, Boston: South End Press.

     

    11. Cf. Allequere Rosanne Stone, 1992, “Virtual Systems: The Architecture of Elsewhere,” in Hrazstan Zeitlian, ed., Semiotext(e) Architecture.

     

  • Metadorno

    Neil Larsen

    Department of Modern Languages
    Northeastern University

    <nlarsen@lynx.northeastern.edu>

     

    Jameson, Fredric. Late Marxism: Adorno, or the Persistence of the Dialectic. London: Verso, 1990.

     

    My first encounter with the writings of Fredric Jameson occurred when I was a graduate student in Comparative Literature. At that time the older, New Critical, T.S. Eliot-ized curriculum was rapidly crumbling before the onslaught of “theory.” The moment was uniquely exhilarating, but also charged with a peculiar anxiety, not unlike that experienced by an ‘uneducated’ consumer about to buy a new refrigerator or, say, a compact disk player. Doing “theory” meant not only becoming familiar with a range of available critical paradigms–from the many varieties of poststructuralism and feminism, to psychoanalysis, to reception theory, etc., etc.–but also, inevitably, taking one home. Extenuating factors, for the most part extra-academic, predisposed me to Marxism, which happened to be in stock, and I remain, I must confess, a most satisfied customer. The decision, however, was greatly facilitated by reading books such as Marxism and Form and the then recently published Prison-House of Language. The latter work in particular fell upon us like a godsend. Here, at last, was a critique of formalism, structuralism and poststructuralism, setting out from clearly articulated theoretical and political positions of its own, but at the same time satisfying the collateral need for an introduction to a whole range of thinkers–from Shklovksy and Jakobson to Levi-Strauss, Greimas, Lacan and Kristeva–whose many individual works one simply hadn’t the time or the training to assimilate. With the then constant appearance of new works of theory–a process still unabating–it was easy to become dismayed at the prospect of falling further and further behind. But Jameson’s books made life easier–indeed, made the career of many a struggling apprentice to critical theory a possibility where it might otherwise have succumbed to burn-out or inane and unwanted specializations. I think I am not far off in saying that Jameson played a unique role in educating an entire generation of Marxist literary and cultural critics (and perhaps not a few non-Marxists), not only in the tradition of the Western Marxism of a Lukacs or a Benjamin, but also in virtually all of the important schools of critical theory to have emerged since roughly the 1920s. To say this is in no way to disparage Jameson’s contributions as an original critical theorist. One thinks especially here of his central position within current discussions of postmodernity. But perhaps his most original contribution is precisely the method of interpreting ‘rival,’ non-Marxist theories and interpretations in such a way as to expose their falsifying implications at the same time that their specific ‘truth content’ is preserved–a method variously identified as “meta-commentary” and as “transcoding.” There can, in my estimation, arise genuine doubts about the ultimate political effect of metacommentary–as to whether, in fact, it is the Marxist frame and not the array of ‘rival’ discourses that is finally severed from its ‘truth-content’ as a result of this operation. But I don’t think there can be any about the vastly productive heuristic force of Jamesonian interpretation. Metacommentary has, pretty much alone it seems to me, worked towards an intellectual-critical synthesis within the humanities, without which the quality of present day intellectual discourse and analysis would probably be far poorer.

     

    It is against this rather special standard of expectation that Jameson’s 1990 work, Late Marxism, seems both disconcerting and somewhat disappointing. Here, somehow, metacommentary, while never more sophisticated and sensitive to every conceivable nuance and possibility lurking within its intellectual object, seems oddly static. An exhausting labor of reading–for Late Marxism is, uncharacteristically, a book whose initial threshold of difficulty, beyond which the effort of comprehension becomes continuously self-rewarding, seems never to be reached–leaves the reader finally bereft of the expected synthesis. Why is this?

     

    Perhaps it is simply my own local need or desire for metacommentary that has lapsed here. But I suspect my response to Late Marxism–at least among those who have themselves been schooled by Jamesonian Marxism–is not atypical. What I want to suggest in what follows is that the peculiar density and tendency to hypostasis detected in Late Marxism by its readers stems not from any intrinsic decay of metacommentary, but rather from what may be the essential unfeasability of the task that the method here sets for itself.

     

    That task involves the substantiation of two claims: first, that Adorno’s own claim to Marxism (whether or not Adorno himself in fact bothers to make it) is a valid one; second, that “Adorno’s Marxism may be just what we need today” (5). To substantiate the former, Jameson observes that “the law of value is always presupposed by Adorno’s interpretations” (230) as well as pointing to the “omnipresence” in Adorno of the “conceptual instrument called ‘totality’” (ibid.). The latter is purportedly established by the very “success” of contemporary, “late” capitalism at “eliminating the loopholes of nature and the Unconscious, of subversion and the aesthetic, of individual and collective praxis alike . . .” (5). That is, Adorno’s continual “emphasis on the presence of late capitalism as a totality within the very forms of our concepts . . .” (not to mention its presence within all our less cerebral modes of being), while perhaps still tending to untruth for his time, has now been verified for ours. The problem with contemporary, non-dialectical theories of culture and society is–or so Jameson implies here–that in banishing the concept of totality in the ethical belief that this somehow frees them from the danger of complicity with “totalitarian” ideology and politics, such theories in fact fall all the more hopelessly under the spell of the real totality, which has long since found ways of insinuating itself into even the most anti- “totalitarian” acts of consciousness.

     

    Adorno, that is, is the Marxist trump card in the postmodern deck. It’s an interesting, not to say attractive notion. The problem, as I see it here, is that to be convinced of this would require more than a general reference to “late capitalism” coupled with the passing observation of the “melting away” of “really existing” socialism and the “drying up” of “Liberation struggles” (249-50)–accurate as these observations may be in themselves. If the claim that “late capitalism” has eliminated the “loopholes . . . of individual and collective praxis alike” (a succinct but quite precise restatement of Adornian political philosophy) is to be defended as one consistent with Marxism, then there would have to be some attempt here–on the level of both political economy and of politics as ideology and hegemony–to account for this change. I don’t wish to rule out the possibility that such an historically and materially grounded account is possible, but if it is, I see no evidence of it in Late Marxism, or, for that matter, in any of Adorno’s works. The Adornian retort here, as Jameson formulates it, is to question whether or not “history” itself, on this plane, is “thinkable” at all except as a “present absence” that can be pointed out but not subjected to any further conscious mediation (see 89). But if it isn’t, then how did we come up with the theory of “late capitalism” in the first place? What explains our ability to register its “success”? All of this, moreover, leaves aside the critical question of agency in Adornian social dialectics–unless we are meant simply to accept it on faith that it is only monadic “works of art”–and the exceptional Critical Theorist–that are empowered to resist totality.

     

    These, at any rate, are the sorts of questions that a defense of Adorno as Marxist would have to confront. (It does no good here to fall back on the recognition of Marxism itself as a “cultural phenomenon” that “varies according to its socioeconomic context” (11)l. That is certainly true on one level. But this makes Adorno’s Marxism a “cultural phenomenon” as well, in which case it is hard to see how its particular “truth” is truer than that of the others.)

     

    But Late Marxism proceeds instead to an exhaustive re-reading of Adorno more or less in keeping with the method of metacommentary. So, for example, Jameson will object to Habermas’s charge that,in the Dialectic of Enlightenment, Adorno and Horkheimer revert to a non-Marxist irrationalism by arguing that this work can in fact be read as a sort of “natural historical” supplement to Marx’s social historical genealogy of capitalist modernity (108). Depending on one’s particular take on Adorno, one will or will not be persuaded by Jameson’s local interpretations. No one, I think, will want to dispute their truly awesome virtuosity and brilliance as readings of the Adornian texts themselves–above all Jameson’s mapping out of Adornian concepts in their all important Darstellung. As noted above, the only complaint that might be registered here is against the unrelieved difficulty of following Jameson’s own Darstellung throughout much of Late Marxism. It’s a rare experience to come upon an extended citation from the Negative Dialectics and feel a sense of relief at being able to relax for a moment one’s effort of concentration!

     

    Supple and erudite as these reflections are, however, they somehow don’t add up to a conclusive defense of Adorno as today’s Marxist. And, indeed, how could this be the result of a Jamesonian metacommentary, which presupposes that a Marxism endowed with a consciousness of the totality is already in place at the outermost and “ultimate horizon” of interpretation? How can Adorno, who has already been explicitly identified as the bearer of Marxian truth in the era of postmodernity, be both subject and object of metacommentary all at once? In such a situation, metacommentary would seem to lose its very source of motivation. And this, I suggest, is what finally explains the readerly difficulty here, not in following the motion of the ‘transcoding’, but in decoding the ‘transcoding’ itself.

     

  • The Constructive Turn: Christopher Norris and the New Origins of Historical Theory

    Renate Holub

    Massachusettes Institute of Technology
    <rholub@garnet.berkeley.edu>

     

    Norris, Christopher. Spinoza & the Origins of Modern Critical Theory. Oxford: Basic Blackwell, 1991.

     

    For those readers familiar with Christopher Norris’s intellectual trajectory, his most recent publication, dealing with Baruch Spinoza, a major seventeenth century exegete of Descartes and a contemporary of Locke and Puffendorf, of Newton and Leibniz, might come as a–perhaps unsettling– surprise. After all, most if not all of Norris’s critical work in the eighties made it its province to discuss what is known as “deconstruction,” a present-day form of critique intent upon discrediting, according to many of its critics, questions concerning origins, historical contingencies, ideological implications and other such forms of outdated inquiry. Yet even a cursory reading of the present book should quickly restore peace to temporarily unsettled minds. For one, Norris has no intention of leaving deconstruction behind, of betraying “theory,” to use reductionist speak, in favor of “history.” And for another, Norris is not in the least inclined to subvert his major research paradigm, which is, roughly speaking, the relation of literary theory to philosophy. Nonetheless, there are two aspects of Norris’s Spinoza which I find novel in his critical practice. One is his shift in emphasis from literary interests, or his interest in questions of reading, to the terrain of the epistemological, the ethical, and the ontological, a shift in emphasis from the literary to the philosophical that is. This shift is perhaps best reflected in the choice of a philosopher, such as Spinoza, and in the very title of the book.

     

    The other related aspect concerns Norris’s explicit insistence on the political nature of his critical project. Indeed, he aligns himself, throughout the volume, not with the “political” %tout court%, but with a quite specific model of politicality, namely with the unfinished project of Enlightenment thought. What is then remarkable about this shift is that Norris appears %nolens volens% as a conscious historical agent, so dear to the marxist and idealist tradition, one who intentionally intervenes in or makes history (history of critical theory) as he is writing about it. Theory’s task is here to affect history. This gesture strikes me, if I may say so, as thoroughly non-postmodern. Simultaneously, the tracing of Spinoza’s role in the formative pre-history of critical theory, and the historical reconstruction of Spinoza’s arguments, amounts to nothing less than Norris’s equally strikingly non-postmodern turn towards explicitly constructionist practices. Given that recently Norris had directed his attention, in his What’s Wrong With Postmodernism?, to what is wrong with postmodernism, it might not be difficult for some readers to read his even more recent Spinoza as a sequel which now essays that which is right with modernity. His reiteration of the necessity of interventionism in human affairs, of strategically relating theory to politics, and of subscribing to an enlightenment paradigm surely lends itself to such a reading. Other readers might simply reflect, in more than one way, on the historical contingencies of critical theory in general. Specific cultural, institutional, and political contexts, or specific structures and substructures of everyday life, seem to effect the way in which critics raise or avoid social questions. Time, place, and other such structurally configurative contingencies seem to figure in the forms of social critique, of politics, of non-literary and literary critics alike. So it is apparently not only theory which can or should effect history. This is the story Norris is about to tell with his Spinoza. History also apparently effects theory, not only in Spinoza’s, but also in our time. It is to his credit that this is a standpoint which Norris, all formidable postmodernist pressures to the contrary, does not suppress.

     

    Norris, I think, might be quick to point out that he himself never had a problem with the relation between theory and history, or history and theory, or with non-postmodern critical strategies for that matter. His books on deconstruction were above all political books, carefully designed to emphasize the political edge of the deconstructionist project in the face of all those intellectuals who either breezily embrace historical (marxist and idealist alike) solutions to social problems, or who legitimate such problems by pointing to their inexorably ontological/ physiological roots (Nietzschean epigones, Foucault, Deleuze, Lyotard). Deconstruction, or rather, and here Norris is always precise, the capital proponents of this movement of thought–Derrida, de Man–offer an irresistible political program. So Norris pointed out throughout his books in the eighties. Their political program consists not in adjudicating matters of truth and falsehood. Rather, the political program of genuine, non-vulgar deconstruction, such as theirs, consists in not attaching truth value to any question, answer, or method or things of the sort but rather in attaching truth value to %the right% to raise questions. In short, Norris claims that what Derrida and de Man are about is freedom of speech, and, moreover, that genuine deconstruction amounts to a libertarian project, and, finally, that freedom of knowledge, opinion, and belief, good old enlightenment habits of thought, are part and parcel of what is right with postmodernism: its modern legacy. For this reason, Norris makes sure to disassociate those postmodern thinkers from deconstruction–such as Foucault, Deleuze, and Lyotard–whose inordinately positive disposition towards the powers of the body, powerfully disguised in their rejection of the transcendental subject and in their abandonment of critical reason, concedes little to an egalitarian and democratic project. For the same reason, Norris now upholds Habermas, whose theory of communicative action promotes free and equal discourse of various interest-groups, political viewpoints, or specialized communities of knowledge. Yet if Habermas’s theory represents “a limit-point of speculative reason which as yet has no model in the history of social institutions,” why not experiment for starters with his model, with a critical theory of old modernity, rather than with that of Spinoza, originating in the young days of modern theory? Norris explicates: Habermas “pitches his claims at the highest level of abstract generality, and offers little help toward a better understanding of nuances, the detailed practicalities, or the essentially contingent character of real-life ethical choice” (183). In other words, Habermas runs up against having too much mind and not enough body, like most philosophers of the modern kind, among whom Norris places not only Descartes and Kant but also Hegel. Feminist critiques of Habermas, such as those of Nancy Fraser and Iris Marion Young, have raised quite similar objections, and justifiably so. Spinoza, on the other hand, is of a different philosophical lineage. In his non-dualist, non-phenomenological, and non-dialectical philosophy, the material (%res extensa%) and the ideal (%res cogitans%) appear to amalgamate into a complex process in which the dualist and the phenomenological co-exist, yet where the dialectical, and this is what Norris does not tell his readers, does not yet exist. “Substance thinking substance extended are one and the same substance, comprehended now through one attribute, now through another,” is one of the Spinozist propositions Ethics II, p. 7) Norris cites (32) in a chapter significantly entitled “Spinoza versus Hegel.” Claims to the superiority of Spinoza over Hegel, the leitmotif of much of French structuralist and poststructuralist interpellations, seem to propel Norris’s enterprise as well.

     

    So it seems that Norris takes recourse to Spinoza because his theory makes allowances for the powers of the mind as well as of the body, because his epistemology is grounded not in a simple but in a complex ontology, because his metaphysical rationalism grounds emotions and reason alike. Surely, Norris could not have taken recourse to this seventeenth century philosopher because he relates epistemology to ethics, because Spinoza reflects on and theorizes the implications of a theory of knowledge on the ways in which humans run or should run their social affairs. Reflecting on the dangerous relation of knowledge to political power, on theory and politics, or epistemology and ethics, is the key not only to Spinoza and his philosophy but to all those critical intellectuals who were faced with certain persecution or even with death when going public with their ideas. The relation of knowledge to freedom, prominently placed in Norris’s interpretation of Spinoza’s significance, is a relation which commands structure and substructure of most critical texts written at the dawn of modernity, if by critical we mean oppositional, subversive, liberational attitudes vis-a-vis %auctoritas%. The texts of Descartes, Kant, and, yes, also Hegel, fall into this category.

     

    If critical theory is above all libertarian philosophy, as Norris would have it, why Spinoza over Hegel, or are we again treated to a displaced replay of Spinoza over Marx? A reader would be quite mistaken to assume that Norris rejects the Hegelian project because of its adherence to an absolute or transcendental spirit gradually evolving from and ultimately commanding historical matter. For Norris’s Hegel is not the one who almost flunked the entrance exams to the Frankfurter Schule, but the one who graduated with honours from the Ecole Normale. It is Kojeve’s Hegel and Hyppolite’s, the Hegel of those two formidable scholars who have brought to the surface the tendentially self-propelling materialist drives of Hegelian phenomenology, such that reason’s unbound desire remains always already challenged by natural bounds not of a physical but of a social kind. It is also that process that Althusser sees, beyond Hegel, in Marx Lire Le Capital). Both systems are unable to resist mechanical structurations of history which true science alone is able to discern, to adjudicate in matters of historical relevance and irrelevance, and to challenge. Similarly, one of the greatest Italian Spinoza interpreters, Antonio Negri, first established the determinist character of Marx’s Grundrisse before offering Spinoza not as a libertarian but as a radically liberational solution to self-propelling systematizations in his L’anomalia selvaggia. Saggio su potere e potenza in Baruch Spinoza (Milan: Feltrinelli, 1981). But what if neither Hegel nor Marx qualifies for an unqualified determinist reading of his texts, and what if Spinoza’s intransigent materialism does? What if we choose Marx’s theses on Feuerbach, where he addresses epistemological problems not dissimilar to Norris’s concerns, namely how to think a materialism without falling prey to an idealist transcendence, and without falling prey to an equally transcendent mechanical immanence based on the laws of atomism and physics? Part of Marx’s solution to the problem was the notion of human or social (material) practice for one, and its dialectical nature for another. While material or general practice produces or effects certain conditions, it is also the effect of ideal or individual practice:

     

    The materialist doctrine that human beings are products of circumstances and upbringing, and that, therefore, changed human beings are products of other circumstances and changed upbringing, forgets that it is human beings who change circumstances and that it is essential to educate the educator him/herself. [. . .] The coincidence of the changing of circumstances and of human activity can be conceived and rationally un- derstood only as revolutionising practice. (Marx, Third Thesis on Feuerbach)

     

    Educating the educator is of course also what Norris has in mind with the liberational project inscribed in his Spinoza, but why plead for free will, intentionality, and choice on the basis of an author who categorically denied the existence of free will? Norris’s answer is prompt: Spinoza not only discussed the origins and nature of emotions, thereby anticipating the ultimate materialism (desiring bodies) of Deleuze and Guattari and other such French poststructuralist thinkers intent on effacing moral accountability. Spinoza also discussed the origin and the nature of the mind in ways which anticipate Husserl’s epistemological processes of eidetic inspection, uncontaminated by contingent factors of historical time and place. In short, what Norris would like to argue is that there are two Spinozas in one, such that Spinoza’s ethical and determinist program does not contradict but co-exists with his liberatory epistemology, since this seventeenth-century precursor of critical theory apparently corrects present-day, over-confident rationalism and delusionary nihilism at one and the same time.

     

    Norris has, as is his style, competently, elegantly, and honestly directed his attention to what mattered to him: that which mattered to Spinoza, and the extent to which his contribution to critical theory should matter to us. Spinoza is, as are most of Norris’s books, a pleasure to read. It is extraordinarily informative and knowledgeably relates the discussion of Spinoza’s complex writings on epistemology and ethics to major twentieth century movements of thought (speech act theory, deconstruction, structuralism, universal pragmatics and so forth). The question I would like to raise in conclusion is the extent to which Spinoza’s philosophical preoccupations are politically relevant for us to the degree Norris claims. That Spinoza’s philosophy emerges at the beginning of modernity, also known as the beginnings of the capitalist mode of production and the bourgeois liberal state, is a historical detail which I consider relevant in determining the political dimensions of his thought. His discussion of the emotions in relation to divine truth, human knowledge and human action I see as one of many attempts of critical movements of thought–from humanism of the proto-capitalist era in Italy to German, French, and English rationalisms of the seventeenth and eighteenth century–to gradually subvert the apparently inexorable fetters of the ideological and philosophical hegemony of the church. Questions of epistemology and their relation to ethics, and questions related to the conditions of possibility of an individual’s access to knowledge and action were, at the origins of modernity, mostly political questions, and, therefore, inherently dangerous, as long as the relation of %civis% to %auctoritas% remained uncontracted, as long as the individual philosopher/scientist was subject to unmediated power, that is. Accordingly, intellectuals directed much effort to disguising their true opinion of the relation of knowledge to politics (Vico), and they continued to reflect on this relation when immediate danger had passed (Newton). Critical theory today does not work under similar conditions (pace Norris’s discussion of Salman Rushdie). Questions concerning the relation of epistemology to ethics in the larger sense are, therefore, not so much of political interests, but mostly of historical and philosophical ones. A political project which elaborates on the various paths to knowledge and action I am afraid cannot explain why some groups (or classes, or nations), all normative epistemological and ontological equality to the contrary, have privileged access to action and others do not. Critical theory, so Horkheimer wrote a while ago, is critical to the extent that it reflects on the social function of its project. What I would like to add to this is that critical theory today is critical to the extent that it reflects on its position not in relation to old orders of inquiry and knowledge, however radical and revolutionary, but rather on its relation to the recently pronounced and enacted New World Order. I would not be surprized that this is indeed one of the motivating forces behind Christopher Norris’s Spinoza. By relating Spinoza’s story, originating at the beginnings of modernity, to our time, Norris evokes the historicity of all theory. What is critical in different historical epochs and places, and what might, can, or should become political in our place and our time is the historical challenge critical theory faces at a moment when critique has all but surrendered to the violence of present-day hegemonic rationality.

     

  • Recovering the Mask of Ordinary Life: Encounters with Nihilism and Deconstruction

    Sharon Bassett

    Department of English
    California State University-Los Angeles
    Los Angeles, CA 90032

     

    Desmond, William. Art and the Absolute: A Study of Hegel’s Aesthetics. Albany: SUNY UP, 1986;

     

    Desire, Dialectic, and Otherness. New Haven: Yale UP, 1987;

     

    Philosophy and Its Others: Ways of Being and Mind. Albany: SUNY UP, 1990.

     

    Comedy has, therefore, above all, the aspect that actual self-consciousness exhibits itself as the fate of the gods. These elementary Beings are, as universal moments, not a self and are not equal. They are, it is true, endowed with the form of individuality, but this is only in imagination and does not really and truly belong to them; the actual self does not have such an abstract moment for its substance and content. It, the Subject, is raised above such a moment, such a single property, and clothed in this mask it proclaims the irony of such a property wanting to be something on its own account. The pretensions of universal essentiality are uncovered in the self; it shows itself to be entangled in an actual existence, and drops the mask just because it wants to be something genuine. The self, appearing here in its significance as something actual, plays with the mask which it once put on in order to act its part; but it as quickly breaks out again from this illusory character and stands forth in its own nakedness nd ordinariness, which it shows to be not distinct from the genuine self, the actor or from the spectator.

     

    –G.W.F. Hegel, Phenomenology of Spirit

     

    It is as if the people who speak out of, and, (whom we understand to be speaking) on behalf of, postmodernity and those who speak out of and on behalf of its totalizing and totalitarian antagonists have lived different histories and now speak from incongruent and incommensurate experiences. The gulfs which separate them, even leaving aside the polemics of the popular press, resist the most subtle tuning of “difference.” How many twentieth centuries have there been? How many modernities have there been? How many perspectivisms have been arrayed against how many differently construed traditional monisms? The trajectory of unacceptable differences, that escape even the playful category of difference, can hardly be traced without creating a filigree. One thinks of one definition of lace: a thousand holes tied together with string. It is not surprising that in the midst of these rhetorical questions, to which everyone has an answer, three books that situate the question of the nature of postmodernity within a poetics rather than within a rhetoric of history should be rather overlooked, especially by people working in literature.

     
    The three books by William Desmond, Art and the Absolute: A Study of Hegel’s Aesthetics (Albany: SUNY, 1986); Desire, Dialectic, and Otherness (New Haven: Yale UP, 1987); and Philosophy and Its Others: Ways of Being and Mind, (Albany: SUNY, 1990), constitute a picture of the world that has refused to reduce history to a series of catastrophes and which maintains instead a sense of tragic meaningfulness in art and in the natural world constructed by and inhabited by humanity.
     
    Desmond offers a thoughtful and richly articulated account of what he calls “metaxological mindfulness”, a kind of intermediary life of consciousness, in-between-ness that rescues thought from the mania of the one and the frenzy of the many; in addition his project moves towards a poetic visionary coda, a vision on which inhabitants of this brazen planet of postmodernity have long since given up: for both of these reasons he rewards an encounter by Postmodern Culture.

     
    Metaxological in-between-ness substitutes for the edgy life on the edge that Desmond sees as the corrosive outcome of deconstruction, which was itself an outcome of Heidegger’s [deliberate?] misunderstanding of Hegel. While he does not engage his adversaries directly, the shadows of Nietzsche, Heidegger, Derrida and to a lesser extent Lyotard fall continually across his page. The most striking difference between Desmond and the masters of suspicion against whom he arrays his forces is that, unlike them, he has not taken the linguistic turn. By this I mean that when both Desmond and Derrida struggle with the process by which art (literature?) can penetrate philosophy–a process which each regards as both essential and inescapable–Desmond argues (or “does philosophy,” what he would call “being mindful”) against the death of art. At the same juncture and for the same cause Derrida refashions the philosophic text itself, and puts the literary text directly adjacent to it. Derrida explains that he does it since the “agency of Being” (by which I understand him to mean ordinary metaphysics) alwaysappropriates, eats up and digests or “interiorizes” every limit that is put against it. By installing the texts of literary writers (Jean Genet, Michel Leiris) in the margins or blank spaces that surround philosophic texts, Derrida makes typographically possible what is metaphysically impossible. I will come back to a further consideration of the relation between literature and philosophy and the difference between metaphysics and typography that Derrida offers.

     
    Hegel is the icon of wholeness and totality that sustains the tradition of western thought; Hegel is, at the same time, the (unacknowledged) father of the iconoclastic flight from wholeness and totality that characterizes postmodern thought. We are not lacking in philosophical and critical efforts to defend either icon or iconoclast and refute the other; we are at a loss for efforts to square the circle and have a Janus-faced Hegel seeing before and after. In his first book, Art and the Absolute: A Study of Hegel’s Aesthetics, Desmond sets out to use Hegel’s view of art as a way of denying that “a movement to wholeness must be identified with totalitarian closure.” While one can not say in the end that Desmond’s project is entirely successful (because he lacks the power to evoke the sensuous self- knowledge with which he credits art) his is a serious, thoughtful effort to maintain the contemporaneity of Hegel while at the same time offering a way for philosophy to be open to art specifically because it represents an absolute that does not inevitably erode into totalitarian closure.

     
    For Desmond, Hegel’s system is fueled by an aesthetic vision. The Hegelian philosophic practice constitutes a quest or adventure organized and narrated in such a way as to expose the interaction between the panorama of choices and the active choosing by the mind operating in time. Rather than being a historicized version of the rationalist’s engine, Hegel offers a journey, a pilgrimage, or a quest as representations of wholeness. The journey is whole in the sense that it reflects the continual and multiple actualization of the faculty of choice, and it is open since the process is an ongoing effort to concretize or articulate the circumstances and actions that constitute the choosing. As Desmond explains in the process of characterizing deconstruction, “the issue of dialectic has to do with the question of the teleological thrust of articulation” (88). To see Desmond working the philosophical implications of articulation as a teleological enterprise, full of action and coherence, is to see him at his strongest and best. And, curiously enough, it is also to see a limitation in his project that in the end deprives it of having the polemical and rhetorical power it clearly intends to have.
     
    To be articulate is to open up the spaces between words in speech, it is to allow silence into the undifferentiated stream of sound that is “noise”; and, especially, in the language of electronic transmission, it is to add the colors of rhetoric to the “white noise” of an untuned radio. It is a joint or hinge that must be itself motionless, empty, inactive so that the gate or door that is hung from it can move. It is the vulnerable part of the animal’s body that in life makes motion possible, but which in death enables the butcher’s knife to transform the body into convenient segments for eating. The aura that a word like “articulation” brings into a particular usage in discourse is immensely rich and diverse. Because Desmond is himself suspicious of the power of language, especially literary language, he does not seem to understand that to call upon this multiplicity is not to encounter a series of refutations or contradictions (what he would call an “equivocal” series). Nor does one find that claim in the theoretical texts written by the deconstructionists against whom he is writing.

     
    While the Hegelian dialectic and the work of deconstruction have in common an interest in the teleological thrust of articulation, Desmond distinguishes between them in the following way:

     

    where deconstruction seems to give us analysis without synthesis, dialectic insists that we return again to the original synthesis, now with the enrichment of having passed through the analysis. (98)

     

    For Desmond, the implications of diversity and openness which seem on the surface to be the special contribution of deconstruction are in fact already implicit in the Hegelian dialectic. He offers a contribution to a “positive ‘deconstruction’ of the deconstructionist’s often too closed and fixed view of Hegel.”

     

    Desmond’s defense of Hegel, learned and useful as it is, does not really respond in a serious way to the readings of Hegel that he finds inadequate in Heidegger and Derrida. And yet one finds in Heidegger and Derrida quite genuine appreciations of what Desmond says they reject in Hegel. In his late Identity and DifferenceHeidegger describes the “active nature of Being” which is itself an “unprecedented exemplar” with the following example from Hegel:

     

    Hegel at one point mentions the following case to characterize the generality of what is general: Someone wants to buy fruit in a store. He asks for fruit. He is offered apples and pears, he is offered peaches, cherries, grapes. But he rejects all that is offered. He absolutely wants to have fruit. What was offered to him in every instance is fruit and yet, it turns out, fruit cannot be bought. (66)

     

    One may grant that this is one of Heidegger’s more rudimentary evocations of Being. It is full of the unspecifiability that belongs to deconstruction, and, at the same time it is full of the unspecifiability that is characteristic of the concept of beauty that Desmond evokes. Fruit cannot be bought, beauty can not be . . . . What is the proper predicate for a sentence of which beauty is the subject?

     

    The much reiterated, without being particularly understood, linguistic turn is precisely what is at stake when Desmond offers beauty as an alternative to nihilism. He sees “beauty” as an alternative to the closed wholeness which the deconstructionists seem to attribute to Hegel. The problem with beauty is the problem that Heidegger’s shopper has when he asks for fruit: beauty, like fruit, cannot be bought, cannot be parsed.

     
    For Desmond, “beauty is the sensuous image of being“; [it] “presents us with a bounded harmonious whole, hence limited whole.” Desmond gathers up and makes use of Kant’s observations from Critique of Judgment that “art produces a second natureover and above the first nature of externality.” And finally, “Every merely escapist aesthetics of beauty must be derided; beauty rather must seek to accept and include within itself the divisive, destructive forces of complex conflicts.” The artist testifies to and verifies his or her honesty by being able to release and articulate the ugly (from within beauty) in a movement toward a “complex affirmation.”

     
    This is the point at which one must raise essential questions about how and in what register it is appropriate to engage with and offer alternatives to either “deconstruction” or the work of Nietzsche, Heidegger, Derrida, and Nihilism. Is there a protocol? Is there a methodological context from within which a respectful engagement is possible? Is the “complex affirmation” either complex or affirming? How can a writer undertake a defense of Hegel against the negative and the denying (in order to offer a defense of the positive and the affirming), do so in the very rhetoric of the polarities that the tradition against which he argues calls into question. Moreover, how can he undertake, as Desmond does in his last volume, a defense of art, without–even if only to dismiss it–raising the question of the status of the literary text? Without, in fact, being really concerned with the fundamentally linguistic aspect of deconstruction?

     
    When Desmond writes that “deconstruction is inextricably tied up with articulation” he has a perfect opening to the issue of the status of the text. And it is a point at which it would be possible to distinguish among the variety of issues and points of view that are collapsed into “deconstruction.”1

     
    Desmond’s thesis is that “the dialectical way represents an approach to the art work which preserves what I have called the principle of wholeness, while not necessitating us to discard the deep complexities and polarities disclosed by deconstruction” (96). Indeed he writes that, “the present chapter might be seen as contributing to a positive ‘deconstruction’ of the deconstructionist’s often too closed and fixed view of Hegel” (99).

     
    But this very project of finding Hegel’s (self- generated) double, of finding the “absolving” and the “releasing” in Hegel’s Absolute rather than merely the “dissolving” and “enclosing”–of inviting us to read The Phenomenology of Spiritin a liberating and multivalent way–is undercut when Desmond goes on to read Foucault, for example, in a univocal, denatured way. He indicates that Foucault’s “post-Nietzschean announcement of the ‘death of man’” is a representation of modernity as a world in which, “man is played out, obsolete . . . harmony is dead . . . randomness and calculated purposelessness are to be the final gesture in the denunciation and dismantling of traditional art.” This view of Nietzsche, Foucault and assorted aspects of postmodernism are derived from a not exactly objective source, Jacques Barzun.

     
    My point here is not to castigate Desmond for relying on secondary sources for his characterization of the “aesthetics of annihilation,” but rather to reproach him for missing an opportunity to link the reading of Hegel he offers with Foucault himself. One thinks of Foucault’s “Preface to Transgression.” This essay is fully as much an effort to de-totalize the dialectic and to open up the possibilities of affirmation as is Desmond’s own work:

     

    Transgression opens onto a scintillating and constantly affirmed world, a world without shadow or twilight, without that serpentine "no" that bites into fruits and lodges their contradictions at their core. It is the solar inversion of satanic denial.2

     

    And even when Foucault writes in the final paragraph of requiem of The Order of Thingsthat,

     

    Taking a relatively short chronological sample within a restricted geographical area--European culture since the sixteenth century--one can be certain that man is a recent invention within it . . . As the archaeology of our thought easily shows, man is an invention of recent date. And one perhaps nearing its end.3

     

    Foucault’s “archaeology” is read as “the denunciation and dismantling of traditional art” instead of as an attempt to understand and to know the relationship between traditional and modern art and experience. Foucault’s sense of crisis in the areas of community, nature, and gender does not mean that Foucault’s writing has causedthe crisis. One cannot help feeling that indeed the philosophical writers who write so urgently against nihilism are experiencing the same or collateral crises. It might be useful to distinguish the writers who attempt to understand or point the way toward the crisis from those who offer a solution to it. It is my own feeling that such solutions are premature and that understanding, pointing, and indicating the lived experience of our crises–in whatever form it takes–needs some answer besides dismissal.
     
    If Desmond’s first book offers a revisited and doubled Hegel, a Hegel whose sense of the negative, whose cultivation of the negative is substantial and long-lived enough to put the post-Nietzschean, post-Heideggerian nihilists of our era to shame, his second book, Desire, Dialectic and Othernessis an extended and intricate defense of ontotheology. But again, while the attention given to an articulation and an unfolding of a rejection of nihilism is both engaging philosophically and lyrical in its envisioning of what he calls “desire’s tenacious witness to the primordial power of the yes” there is, in the reader, nevertheless a residue of doubt. And one’s doubt derives not so much from a sense that the affirming argument for the generative power of desire is inadequate, but rather from a sense that insufficient attention is paid to the urgency of the position against it.

     
    For Desmond, “desire introduces disjunction into this submersion [in passivity, before the Fall] and sows the seed of a determinate self through the sense of difference and dissatisfaction” (21). The desiring self is both original and originating and at its best “tries to point not simply to what is specified but, more deeply to what does the specifying.” It is very much the Hegelian self who, as subject knowing the object, at the same time recognizes itself as a knowing object; it is the process by which the self individuates itself from itself in the act of knowing the world. But Desmond’s notion of origin is no more a fixed point in time than it is a fixed limit in space:

     

    [The original self] is the movement between fixed beginnings and ends and, in the middle between them, is an end and a beginning, more radically moving, powerfully positive, and indeterminably rich. (65)

     

    One needs to pull back for a moment: Deconstruction is tied up with “articulation,” Hegelian dialectic is the drive toward articulating the absolute, and the absolute (or originary) self (which comes up toward the end of Desire Dialectic and Otherness) is fueled by (the same?) urgent move toward articulation. In the case of the last or originary self it comes to know itself because its openness to otherness makes it possible for it to know itself. At this stage of his argument Desmond is concerned with ways in which deconstruction and the Hegelian dialectic share concerns and outcomes. It is essential for his case to show that deconstruction arises out of and subsides into nihilism while his own position, deriving from a development of the Hegelian position which he calls metaxologydoes not. The “metaxological” is that middle ground in which “the community of originals” comes into being. He finds the experience of the aesthetic, the sublime and agapeic love to be examples of living in the middle, in some new territory which is neither self nor other but somehow both at once, without there being any impairment of either element.

     
    Earlier on, Desmond had used the example of Narcissus whose mistake is not that he falls in love with his image on the surface of the water but the fact that he makes no distinction between himself and other. He cannot have a self until he identifies in some way with that which is not him. For Desmond, Sartre and Hobbes are blood brothers with Narcissus: “in the war of all against all, the Leviathan who would tame all does not bear the olive branch, unfortunately, only the apotheosis of the ailment. When we hiss at this hell, we succeed only in stoking its chill fires” (174). The ailment in each case is the notion of the univocal, hence undifferentiated, self.

     
    Desire, Dialectic and Othernessconcludes with a notion of what Desmond calls, following Hegelian terminology, “a post-Romantic symbol.” As I understand it, the “post-Romantic symbol” is an alternative to the images of totalization that are associated with the classical humanist or Judeo-Christian world and similarly an alternative to the radical inwardness of the Romantic or post-Cartesian world. Desmond makes each of these traditions serve as a lens of a binocular, in such a way that the overlapping of their lines of sight produces a three-dimensional, in the middle, or, finally “metaxological,” vision:

     

    [A post-Romantic symbol] emerges from the metaxological intermediation of more than one infinity, the interior infinity of the original self and the suggestion of another infinity emergent in being itself. (201)

     

    But Desmond is cautious not to equate this multitude of infinities with the Hegelian absolute. It will not tend, as Hegel had directed his absolute, toward the identity of identity and difference. The persistence of “otherness,” instead of being the sense of malaise that afflicts and paralyzes the Cartesian self, is fundamental, for Desmond, to the idea of being itself. Otherness is not the alternative to being, it is the necessary circumstance of being.

     

    By pluralizing wholeness and infinity, Desmond sets the stage for his “community of originals.” He recognizes that there can be no claims for an explicit or ultimate explanation of the community he envisions. He aims instead toward “a kind of periphrastic philosophical image, culminating not in absolute knowledge, but in the acknowledgment of a radical enigma” (206). But language itself, the medium to which the Herculean efforts of “articulation” are confined, threatens continually to congeal again into the very imprisoning structures from which it had, with so much difficulty, seemed to have escaped. In embracing this limitation, this danger inherent in rhetoric if not in language itself, it may well be that Desmond puts himself in more intimate alliance with the deconstructive theorists against whom he has written his books than he realizes:

     

    I have tried to minimize this drift by discerning the metaphor in the structure, thereby turning this limitation to some positive use. For our limits may be an indirect image of the ultimate otherness, a kind of ontological salutation of what is always beyond us. Facing into this final difference, one may consent to the community of being and seek to be divided oneself no longer. For we become patterned after what we love as ultimate. (206-207)

     

    I recognize that there is very little in the work of, say, Derrida about what we may love as ultimate.4 But it does seem to be the case that for both Derrida and Desmond the struggle toward affirmation is a struggle with, against, and for the elements of rhetoric and poetry that both convey and cloud meaning. They choose different poems and different rhetorical moments. Desmond reads Hopkins, Yeats, Shakespeare and Hegel; Derrida reads Mallarme, Valery, Genet and Hegel. And when we come to look at their readings, at how they perform as readers, we come to understand the real problem that arises when one tries philosophically to refute or out-flank deconstruction as it is specifically and concretely practiced. For Desmond “aesthetic objects” (usually poems) come to exist as unambiguous and thematic messages to the world. The danger and possibility of the metaphor, the metaphor as metamorphosis, the power of which Desmond is entirely clear about in his own use (it enables him to minimize drift) seems to escape him when he uses literary texts like Learto justify and support his philosophical claims. He calls the argument of his book a “periphrastic philosophical image . . . culminating in the acknowledgment of a radical enigma.”

     
    But is this not where deconstruction starts? Once the recognition occurs, in the conscious tradition of the tragic genre, the analytic modality is mobilized not just to perform a reductive expose but, in Desmond’s fine word, to “articulate” the enigma. Not that that is the end of the story, poem or figure. In a sense it is only the beginning. He writes in conclusion:

     

    For here what is enigmatic is not a rationalization of ignorance too lazy to root out its own lack. It has nothing to do with a lack that we ourselves could will away. The world in its otherness is opened out, and we cannot will its closure. The over determined power of being invades us within and surrounds us without. We encounter a limitation, the confession of which need occasion no lamentation. Again, it is not enough just to say brusquely that the enigma is there and then go on as before, as if it made no difference. The talent is not for burial or for rusting, but for our ripe, originating return. (207)

     

    Desmond’s final book, Philosophy and Its Others: Ways of Being and Mind sets out to conceptualize without conceptualizing (that is, without fixing and freezing) the pluralized metaxological community of otherness for which Desire, Dialectic and Othernesshad established the possibility. It might be useful at this point to distinguish two issues which occupy Desmond throughout his work and which finally do not seem to have much to do with each other. They are not in any case interdependent. The double project that I understand being under taken is 1) a refutation of the “nihilism” of post-Heideggerian “deconstructive” philosophical thinking and 2) a fleshing out of a community based on a radical embracing of otherness in which the self, obeying the charge to “be other,” becomes instead itself. This is what Desmond calls the metaxological community of intermediation. Intermediation I understand to be a point of intersection between a pure “mediation” (which is the loss of self for the sake of the other) and an equally pure “immediation” (which is loss of the other for the sake of the self). In separating Desmond’s double project it is possible to dismiss the first part as being of minor interest. Nihilism and deconstruction are so feebly envisioned that one feels that Desmond himself has hardly met a living practicing nihilist. On the other hand the second aspect of Desmond’s work, particularly his extensively developed characterization of the community of postmodernity, rewards closer attention.
     
    The first part of Philosophy and Its Others, like Plato’s Republic or Dante’s Divine Comedyor other efforts to envision a thoughtful or philosophical community, indicates the most significant roles that individuals play. Each of the roles is envisioned vis-a-vis philosophy since philosophy can only fully become itself by “thinking its others” rather than merely thinking itself. While the exemplary figures of Socrates and Spinoza exist as tentative guides, Desmond wants other “configurations of human possibility that have been and still are crucial for philosophy.” He selects: the scholar, technician, scientist, poet, priest, revolutionary, hero, and sage.

     
    The first half of the book consists of thinking through or living the intermediation between philosophy and each of these human possibilities. And each of them offers something concrete and essential that is missing from, and yet in some sense dependent on, philosophy. They are the other to philosophy that philosophy must encounter and at the same time they are themselves a kind of blindness. As he explains it:

     

    If philosophy involves the mindful thought of being as metaxological, it deals with what as other is always, as it were, too much for it. But it is just this excess of otherness that we must patiently try to think. Likewise, since I see philosophical thought together with its others, I find it impossible hermetically to seal the mode of philosophical discourse itself. If philosophy is thought thinking itself and its others, just to that extent to be truly welcoming of the voice of the other means on occasion to be willing to voice one's own thought in the voice of the other. (11)

     

    We can see here an amplification of one of Desmond’s significant themes. The multiplicity of his post-Hegelian community is one that is not based on the univocity of naive belief, nor on the equivocity of skeptical analysis, nor on the absorbing or dissolving power of the dialectic, but rather “to take seriously Aristotle’s saying that to on legetai pollachos, being is said in many ways.” The philosopher is the one who articulates and seemingly makes possible the conditions of what Desmond calls “middle mindedness.”

     

    The philosopher knows middle thought to be an incessant alternation between extremes, endless conversation between thought and its others. Thinking mediates with itself but also makes war on itself, on its own perennial seduction to closure against otherness. Failing incitement from elsewhere, from external others, the philosopher is the type who picks a quarrel with himself. He make himself other. (60)

     

    Having rerooted philosophy as a way of being, not in its own certainty but in its own self doubt, in its own “genial doubt,”5Desmond goes on to elaborate three ways in which it is possible to live such a life. He offers Being Aesthetic, Being Religious, and Being Ethical. The final, ethical, chapter leads us most directly to concerns about the nature of the metaxological community of otherness.

     
    The underlying presence of Hegel’s work of art as absolute is everywhere present in this chapter. For example, when Desmond works with the idea of desire and its place in the ethical community he must find a way of moving from desire’s self-insistence to desire’s ability to “turn to the other as other.” He must escape the Nietzschean and Freudian configuration of the will as an absolute in itself. He does not do it by denying the power of will, for this would deprive being ethical of energy and dynamism. Desire itself must be more deeply thought:

     

    To desire is to be driven by internal exigency, yet also it is to reach out to something other than oneself that one needs or lacks or loves. It testifies to the self's power as both demanding its own satisfaction and stretching beyond itself to things or selves other than self. . . . This inherent doubleness grounds the difference between an instrumental relation to the other and one that grants the other its intrinsic worth. (188)

     

    It is characteristic of Desmond’s thought to discuss an entity that is seen from one side (the univocal side) as total and that is seen from the other side (the equivocal/skeptical side) as empty and meaningless, and to fashion some space in the middle within which the entity in question can function like an Hegelian work of art. So that, in other words, while it passionately tends toward completed wholeness, it is, by virtue of this very tending, always never whole.
     
    This section on the possibilities of desire Being Ethical links up with the final movement of Desire, Dialectic, and Otherness where Desmond suggests that what he is doing is authorizing the “post-Romantic symbol.” And it is a symbol not in the fixed iconic or plastic sense but rather in the dynamic verbal sense that he attaches to the metaxological. It is the movement, in fact, from first love (“every being affirms its own being . . . this I am and this I will to continue to be”) to second love (“I know that my own being does not, cannot exhaust the fullness of being”). And we see that this post-Romantic symbol carries with it an even more Hegelian aura when Desmond links the many kinds of passion available to the image with which Hegel brings the Phenomenology of Spiritto a finale:

     

    The Golgotha of the ethical will is the self- transformation of first love into second love. This transformation answers the question "What am I to be?" with a dread command: "Be other! You must change utterly!" But strangely, being other is just to be what we are, to become our promise. (190)

     

    There is a final section called “Being Mindful: Thought Singing Its Other” where Desmond’s uncertain yet wholehearted commitment to the power of the aesthetic cannot help but disappoint after so much that has been skillful, deft and eloquent. But instead of dwelling on its deficiencies, I would rather look at the immediately preceding part of Philosophy and Its Otherswhich is itself (as its title suggests) an exemplification of “Being Mindful: Thought Thinking Its Other.”

     
    Here Desmond turns his attention to three issues that are rarely as significantly present in contemporary thoughtful discourse as they are here: Logic, Solitude and Failure6. It is much more likely that we would read and write about Intuition, Intimacy with Others, and (perhaps) the Fear of Success. But for Desmond these three former and more somber concerns represent the determining otherness of philosophy; they are in fact the crucial alien others against which triumphalistic thought would inoculate us. But just as Desmond reminds us of Dostoyevsky’s remark that to know the quality of justice in a country it is necessary to visit the prisons, so, in this case, to know the quality of thinking it is necessary to visit what is ordinarily excluded from thought and penalized for existing. The meditation on logic speaks to the intractable order of the world of the other; the meditation on solitude speaks to the penal condition of solitary confinement where “to be alone with oneself thus is to be alone with nothing“; while the meditation on failure addresses “the fact that the outer action does not, cannot fulfill completely the intention of the inner self. Thus it is never enough to separate the inner and outer. This separation, in fact, is only a redefinition of failure” (252). So the efforts at totalization can never realize themselves in any kind of practice. And the philosophical world, because its way of being is so deeply implicated in the world of practice, is able to shield itself against what might otherwise imperil it.

     
    But the figure of Narcissus returns. And it seems that the crucial other to the un-systematic systematic philosopher is the chimerical reality of language and rhetoric. The philosopher cannot examine his own tools. His words stand out on the surface with all the problematic stainless steel shimmer Desmond attributes to the Cartesian self. He trusts his words and so he has not met the adversary who combines and exemplifies logic, solitude, and failure: the language with which he works. Narcissus drowns not because he falls in love with himself, but because he does not recognize what is not him.

     
    It is easy to understand why a philosopher who truly means to move philosophy away from the nihilistic and as well as the facilely therapeutic, who has already dealt with the poverty of the linguistic philosophers and who has set out to present an alternative to deconstruction, would not be in the mood to disassemble the very means without which his project seemingly could not exist.

     

    Notes

     

    1. See Desmond’s earlier article, “Hegel, Dialectic, and Deconstruction.” Philosophy and Rhetoric 18 (1985), 244-263. While Desmond’s view of deconstruction is rather limited and second-hand (he relies on anthologies like Deconstruction and Criticism from 1979), he is alert to the subtle presence of Nietzsche and Heidegger and to the implications of that presence.

     

    2. Michel Foucault, Language, Counter-Memory, Practice, ed. Donald F. Bouchard (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1977), 37.

     

    3. Michel Foucault, The Order of Things: An Archaeology of the Human Sciences (New York: Vintage Books, 1970), 386-87.

     

    4. Consider the remarkable material collected in his Memories for Paul de Man: Revised Edition (New York: Columbia University Press, 1989). See, for example, Derrida’s defense of de Man against the charge of nihilism. He gives him the plural affirmation of Molly Bloom (a formula of affirmation that Desmond also uses against nihilism):

     

    Underlying and beyond the most rigorous, critical, and relentless irony, within that "Ironie der Ironie" evoked by Schlegel, whom he would often quote, Paul de Man was a thinker of affirmation. By that I mean--and this will not become clear immediately, or perhaps ever--that he existed himself in memory of an affirmation and of a vow: yes, yes. ( 21)

     

    5. In his unlikely comparison of Chicken Little with the Buddha, Desmond makes the point that what ennobles the Buddha is that he is moved by genial doubt rather than anxious faith: “Where he can know the truth, he refuses only to believe. But his searching can cause disquiet” (144).

     

    6. These are the three areas of concern to which Desmond devotes the final part of his study. I understand that for him it is the failure of modernist philosophy to encounter these issues, and by virtue of this failure the inability of modernist philosophy to speak to human exigency, that accounts for its fundamental nihilism.

     

  • Nietzsche as Postmodernist

    Robert C. Holub

    Department of German
    University of California Berkeley

    <rcholub@garnet.berkeley.edu>

     

    Clayton Koelb, ed. Nietzsche as Postmodernist: Essays Pro and Contra. Albany: SUNY P, 1990.

     

    Since his death in 1900, Friedrich Nietzsche has been associated with almost every major movement in the twentieth century. No other writer has succeeded as well as Nietzsche in impressing such an array of subsequent thinkers. Putatively opposing ideologies have competed for his patronage; traditions that otherwise admit nothing in common find Nietzsche an ally in their endeavors. On the political front he has been considered a promoter of anarchism, fascism, libertarianism, and–despite his pointed polemics against the most modern manifestation of slave morality– socialism. In the realm of culture he has been viewed as an inspiration for aestheticism, impressionism, expressionism, modernism, dadaism, and surrealism. In philosophical circles he has allegedly influenced phenomenology, hermeneutics, existentialism, poststructuralism, and deconstruction. This remarkable record of affinities and effects may be less a tribute to the fecundity of Nietzsche’s actual oeuvre than to the resourcefulness of his various interpreters. Nietzsche touched on a wide variety of topics over the two decades in which he wrote, and the manner in which he expressed himself, the elusively suggestive and vibrant style in his mostly aphoristic oeuvre, has been obviously seductive for succeeding generations of intellectuals. Postmodernism is thus only the latest movement to claim Nietzsche as its spiritual progenitor, and it is to the credit of Clayton Koelb that in the volume under review here he has collected fourteen contributions that explore various and often antagonistic aspects of this possible affiliation.

     

    Actually, most of the essays in Nietzsche as Postmodernist have less to do with postmodernism as an artistic or general cultural phenomenon than with “postmodern theory,” i.e., contemporary philosophical and theoretical tendencies generally subsumed under the rubric of poststructuralism. In this regard there are three recurrent strategies for connecting Nietzsche with recent French and Francophilic tendencies. The first of these is heavily reliant on Paul de Man’s essay on Nietzsche and rhetoric found in Allegories of Reading (New Haven: Yale, 1979, 103-18). De Man focuses his attention on a particular phase in Nietzsche’s career when the young classical philologist at Basel was preparing a course on rhetoric for the winter semester in 1872-73. Citing fragmentary lecture notes for this course (which had only two students in attendance) and the unpublished essay “On Truth and Lie in an Extra-Moral Sense,” which was likely composed at about the same time, de Man presents us with a Nietzsche sensitive to the undecidabilities of language. The instability of all linguistic utterance becomes for the deManized Nietzsche his seminal philosophical insight. Since according to de Man Nietzsche establishes that all language is inextricably bound to figures and tropes, the traditional notions of the philosophical heritage–identity, truth, causality, objectivity, subjectivity–can no longer be trusted. As de Man writes, “the key to Nietzsche’s critique of metaphysics . . . lies in the rhetorical model of the trope, or, if one prefers to call it that way, in literature as language most explicitly grounded in rhetoric” (109). This reading thus situates Nietzsche at the source of a deconstructive enterprise culminating in the work of Derrida and de Man.

     

    The problem with interpreting Nietzsche’s philosophy in as “postmodernist” is that it compels us to valorize one small portion of his work over almost everything else that he wrote and then to ignore most of his mature philosophical work. Indeed, as Maudemaire Clark demonstrates in her essay “Language and Deconstruction: Nietzsche, de Man, and Postmodernism” (75-90), de Man’s notions about language and rhetoric were not Nietzsche’s, and if in his early writings Nietzsche did in fact flirt with such propositions, he quickly abandoned them as unsatisfactory. Clark argues convincingly that de Man’s assertion that all language is figural is incoherent, and that his confusion of literal meaning with word-for-word translation leads to an unnecessary divorce of truth from all utterance. Relying on Donald Davidson’s holistic view of language and meaning, she shows that de Man’s appreciation of the “inscrutability of reference” is not accompanied by a sufficiently developed notion of truth conditions. Unlike Nietzsche, therefore, whose early views were supplanted by more mature reflections, de Man remains fixated on a simplistic, skeptical conception of language as metaphor. What is perhaps more astounding than de Man’s obsession, however, is that his thesis about Nietzsche (and about language in general) has gained such widespread currency in recent years. That Nietzsche found it inadequate over a century ago is clearly indicated by his suppression of the essay on “Truth and Lie,” as well as his abandoning of such a linguistically oriented concept of truth and values in his subsequent work. In short, this de Man-inspired contention about Nietzsche’s views on language, rhetoric, and truth, despite its currency among deconstructive acolytes, provides no firm connection between Nietzsche and “postmodernism.”

     

    A second and frequently cited aspect of the “postmodern” Nietzsche is a bequest from the work of Michel Foucault, in particular from Foucault’s influential essay “Nietzsche, Genealogy, History” (cited below from Language, Counter-Memory, Practice [Ithaca: Cornell UP, 1977]). Foucault’s central concern is to delineate two different ways to conduct historical research. Traditional historiography is identified with the search for origins (Ursprung), while Nietzsche’s genealogical approach prefers the examination of emergence (Entstehung), lineage (Herkunft), birth (Geburt), and descent (Abkunft). This neat distinction is then elaborated in subsequent discussion: genealogy, we are told, depends “on a vast accumulation of source material” LCP, 140), eschews essences and identities, explores discontinuities, “attaches itself to the body” LCP, 147), and “seeks to reestablish the various systems of subjection, . . . the hazardous play of dominations” LCP, 148). Without objections or criticism, Foucault’s claims have been well received by contemporary critics. Thus it is not surprising that Gary Shapiro, in his essay on “Foucault, Derrida, and The Genealogy of Morals,” adopts these putatively Nietzschean distinctions and clarifies as follows:

     

    To be concerned with Ursprung, or origin, is to be a philosophical historian who would trace morality--or any other subject matter-- back to an original principle that can be clarified and recuperated. The genealogist will, however, be concerned with the complex web of ancestry and affiliations that are called Herkunft, those alliances that form part of actual family trees, with all their gaps, incestuous transgressions, and odd combinations. (39-55)

     

    It is unimportant that Shapiro will try to show that Derrida is a more consistent genealogist than Foucault; what is significant is that Foucault’s version of Nietzsche has become a staple of postmodern theory.

     

    If we look at Foucault’s essay critically, however, we find without much effort that most of the views he imputes to Nietzsche are not supported by what Nietzsche actually professed. In the first place the distinction between Ursprung and Herkunft, even in the preface to the Genealogy of Morals (where Foucault claims the distinction is most pronounced), is not maintained consistently. Moreover, not only does Nietzsche never discuss the difference between Ursprung and Herkunft, he obviously uses the words interchangeably. For example, at the beginning of the second paragraph he states that his topic is the heritage (Herkunft) of our moral prejudices, while in the third paragraph he writes about the origin (Ursprung) of our notions of good and evil; the fourth paragraph begins with a statement about his “hypothesis about the origin (Ursprung) of morality.” Perhaps more importantly, the various characteristics Foucault assigns to Nietzschean genealogy do not actually describe it. In the Genealogy Nietzsche does not collect a great deal of source material, but proceeds primarily on the basis of psychological observations, intuition, and a few scattered philological clues. Nietzschean genealogy does not prefer discontinuities; in fact, Nietzsche is at pains to show that slave morality has continuously manifested itself from Socrates in the Greek world, through the various “priests” of the Judeo-Christian tradition, to its latest manifestations in democratic and socialist political movements. Foucault’s putatively Nietzschean approach to history is transparently Foucauldian and at best tangentially Nietzschean. The concern with the body, with domination, and with archives are all characteristics of Foucault’s archaeological phase. Like de Man’s “postmodern” Nietzsche, who was compelled to parrot de Man’s own obsession with rhetoric, Foucault’s “postmodern” Nietzsche is a ventriloquist’s dummy through whom Foucault himself speaks.

     

    The third commonly cited connection between Nietzsche and postmodern thought involves the philosopher’s notion of perspectivism. While six of the contributions mention “perspectivism” (Nietzsche, by the way, used the term only twice according to Schlechta’s index), Debra Bergoffen’s essay “Nietzsche’s Madman: Perspectivism without Nihilism” is perhaps the most interesting treatment of perspectivism as a philosophical issue. Bergoffen contends that perspectivism should be separated from the related doctrine of relativism and from the implied stances of nihilism and anarchism. She argues that our traditional understanding of perspectivism has been falsified because we have approached it as “centered subject[s] in a metaphysically anchored world.” Nietzsche, she claims, does not propound perspectivism as truth, but maintains rather “that decentered perspectivism is less repressive than the absolute perspective of the center” (57). Using Lacanian theory, which Nietzsche anticipates (62), she interprets the madman passage from Joyful Wisdom to be a proclamation of a “polytheistic pluralism” in which there is “no longing for the lost absolute” (68). “The philosophy of perspectivism,” Bergoffen concludes, “is a philosophy of pluralist textuality. In replacing Kierkegaard’s either/or with his own either . . . or, Nietzsche rejects the logic of exclusive disjunction for a logic which affirms dejoined [sic] terms” (70).

     

    Once again, however, we have a series of contentions which, no matter how we may judge their logical rigor, have little basis in Nietzsche’s own works. The passage that Bergoffen cites from the third book of Joyful Wisdom (aphorism 125) contains absolutely no mention of the perspectival or of perspectivism: the word “perspective” is totally absent. It deals solely with the death of god, and although it is plausible that one can relate the death of god to Nietzschean perspectivism, Nietzsche does not specifically do so here, nor, as far as I can tell, anywhere else. How Bergoffen can cite a passage from the middle of this particular aphorism and then abruptly proclaim that “With these words Nietzsche introduces us to his doctrine of perspectivism” (68) remains a (philo)logical mystery. If we actually examine passages in which Nietzsche himself writes about perspectivism or the perspectival we find that, for him, perspectivism involves not the demise of the theocentric universe, but rather issues of epistemology. In the fifth book of Joyful Wisdom, for example, Nietzsche suggests strongly that “perspectivism” (Perspektivismus) is synonymous with what he calls “phenomenalism” (Phenomenalismus); both involve the notion that although perception may be conceived as individual, once it is made conscious, it becomes generalized and thus in some sense falsified, flattened, superficial, and corrupted. From this passage we can conclude that consciousness for Nietzsche is not an individual possession, but part of our herd mentality. At other points, of course, Nietzsche writes of perspectival seeing and the impossibility of achieving an objective stance for cognition. In these passages he affirms a multiplicity of meanings and interpretations, usually viewed as supraindividual and often serving the preservation of a supraindividual entity. (In both cases the point is that there is no single, higher, hidden, Platonic reality or meaning behind the phenomenological world.) These latter discussions of “perspectivism” come closer to Bergoffen’s notion of a pluralistic, decentered, benign relativism, but even if we take this to be what Nietzsche really meant with the term, it would be inaccurate to ascribe to Nietzsche himself the tolerance and eclecticism that reside in Bergoffen’s discussion. From at least Zarathustra on, Nietzsche was a “dogmatic” philosopher, maintaining, at least implicitly, that some ethical values were superior to others. Who can read the Genealogy and still believe that Nietzsche does not consider the slave morality of good and evil inferior to the good-and-bad value system of the blond beasts? As Robert Solomon, a more careful and judicious reader of Nietzsche, correctly notes, the “mature Nietzsche was no perspectivist, not much of a pluralist, and consequently not much of a postmodernist either” (276).

     

    The three most popular accounts of Nietzsche as postmodernist all fail, therefore, because their advocates are too quick to attribute their own views to Nietzsche. Although some evidence can be mounted for each case of postmodern affiliation, the readings, when examined closely, are too selective, too partial (in both senses of the word), and too inaccurate to secure a connection. This does not mean, of course, that there are no other possible aspects of Nietzsche’s works that one can identify with the protean term “postmodern,” nor does it mean that Nietzsche cannot be solicited as an analyst of what we call postmodernism. In perhaps the most provocative essay in the volume, “Nietzsche, Postmodernism, and Resentment” (267-293), Solomon suggests that we might understand academic postmodernism and its attendant theories as varieties of Nietzschean ressentiment. In this view, “postmodernism” would be regarded as a symptomatic reaction on the part of those who are outside of the mainstream of society. The theorists of postmodernism thus have something in common with the zealots of the New Right, who are similarly estranged from the centers of culture. It does not matter that these two groupings are politically and ideologically antagonistic, Solomon argues; Nietzsche himself has shown how contradictory phenomena issue from a common source. Of course, if we conceive of postmodernism as “the resentful projection of too many self-important smart people feeling slighted by the Zeitgeist” (289), then Nietzsche could very well be an example, as well as a diagnostician, of the postmodern. Indeed, Nietzsche was perfectly capable of analyzing a decadent feature of contemporary society and then labeling himself its most extreme proponent.

     

    Ultimately, however, Solomon opts for discarding the entire issue of Nietzsche’s connection with postmodernism. In answer to the question that informs the entire volume (“Is there a postmodern Nietzsche?”), he replies: “I think our answer should be that this question is neither important nor interesting” (293). He may be correct, and not simply because of his contention that what Nietzsche had to say is intrinsically so important that we should return to the “texts.” The notion of Nietzsche as postmodernist, like the most of the vast American scholarship on Nietzsche’s thought, has tended to place him and his works everywhere except where he was historically situated: in nineteenth- century Germany. Failure to mention the names, places, movements, themes, and relationships to which Nietzsche responded and in which he was involved characterizes much Nietzsche scholarship, but is particularly evident in this collection. This volume unfortunately reinforces the tendency to regard Nietzsche as the great anticipator of later movements, the untimely philosopher whose genius could only be understood by those living in a wiser and more welcoming epoch. Most contributions buy into the self-fashioned image of the lonely, solitary thinker who, like Zarathustra, is compelled to offer his revelatory pronouncements to uncomprehending and unworthy disciples. No thinker, however, is ahead of his or her times– although quite a few are behind them. If we could learn to ignore Nietzsche’s own rhetoric and consider him as, in large part, the product of seminal discourses in nineteenth-century Europe, then we might come a lot closer to answering one of the questions Koelb posits in his introduction: “What is `Nietzsche’?” And in responding to this query with greater historical sensitivity than has traditionally been the case in American Nietzsche criticism, we could then disregard Koelb’s other question–“What is `postmodernism’?”–as an irrelevance that is itself the product of a misguided effort in scholarship.

     

  • BOOK REVIEW OF: What’s Wrong with Postmodernism?

    Robert C. Holub

    Department of German
    University of California-Berkeley

    <rcholub@garnet.berkeley.edu>

     

    Norris, Christopher. What’s Wrong With Postmodernism? Critical Theory and the Ends of Philosophy. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 1990.

     

    From the outset two features of the title of Christopher Norris’s latest book need clarification. First, it is not insignificant that, despite the possibility of an interrogatory “What,” the title is not a question, but a declaration. Norris knows what’s wrong with postmodernism, and he does not hesitate to impart his diagnosis to the reader. Second, the term “postmodernism” does not match exactly the material he covers. He is actually less concerned with postmodernism as a direction in literature and the arts–its more usual field of meaning–than he is with contemporary theory. The title should be understood, therefore, as an assertion about recent directions in theory, not as a query into artistic practices. And what is most interesting about Norris’s survey of the critical terrain is the way in which he divides the turf. Most commentators tend to take a stand either for or against poststructuralism, defined rather generally as anything coming out of France or influenced by the French over the past two decades. By contrast Norris splits French and Francophilic theory into two halves. While he continues to advocate most prominently the work of Jacques Derrida and Paul de Man, he is highly critical of Baudrillard, certain aspects of Jean- Francois Lyotard, and Philippe Lacoue-Labarthe’s monograph on Heidegger. Joining these French postmodernists on Norris’s roster of adversaries are American neopragmatists, in particular Stanley Fish and Richard Rorty. Making a surprising appearance on the approval list is the German philosopher of communication theory, Jurgen Habermas. Although he devotes a chapter of this book to a reproof of Habermas’s remarks on Derrida–a chastisement whose root cause is Habermas’s carelessness in attributing to Derrida views held by his less philosophically schooled American epigones–he approves of the broad and critical outline of recent French thought found in Habermas’s Philosophical Discourse of Modernity (1985).

     

    Since these are anything but natural alliances, they deserve further attention. Essentially Norris validates those theorists who he feels continue a tradition of enlightenment critique. There is no difficulty in placing Habermas in this camp since he is perhaps the single strongest voice in contemporary theory to openly and directly declare his allegiance to the progressive heritage of modernity. Norris does not discuss his work in any detail, however, except to point out his errors in dealing with Derrida, and his reference to Habermas’s notion of universal or formal pragmatics as “transcendental pragmatics” indicates at least a possible confusion of Habermas’s current concerns with his abandoned attempt to locate “quasi-transcendental” interests in the late sixties. More difficult to locate in a tradition of enlightened reason are Derrida and de Man. The latter is incorporated into the enlightenment project largely by way of his interest in “aesthetic ideology,” which includes a critique of Schiller and of all subsequent misreadings of Kant’s aesthetic theory. Derrida is likewise assimilated to the enlightenment paradigm through Kant. In Chapter Five, a consideration of Irene Harvey’s Derrida and the Economy of Difference (1986), Norris argues with Harvey (and Rodolphe Gasche) that Derrida is best described as a rigorous Kantian, except that he is “asking what conditions of IMpossibility mark out the limits of Kantian conceptual critique” (200). Indeed, Norris claims that Derrida’s is “the most authentically Kantian reading of Kant precisely through his willingness to problematise the grounds of reason, truth and knowledge” (199). Norris thus opposes both the facile notion of Derridean deconstruction as the authorizing strategy for “free play” as a free-for-all of meaning, a false lesson learned and propagated by inattentive American disciples, and the equally false understanding of Derrida’s work as a dismissal of previous philosophical problems, the tendency found in Fish, Rorty, and French postmodernists such as Baudrillard. Derrida and de Man are for Norris rigorous philosophical minds who question traditional philosophemes and point out their limits. These actions, however, are undertaken in the spirit of Kantian critique, and have nothing to do with the various illicit reductions (of truth to belief, of philosophy to rhetoric, of history to fiction, and of reality to appearance) prevalent in the neopragmatic and the poststructuralist camp.

     

    This is a credible account of contemporary theory. It makes necessary distinctions between Derrida and his American reception and correctly credits de Man with a seriousness of purpose that is not always matched by poststructuralist gamesmanship. It also rightly dismisses the philosophical legitimacy of the “antitheoretical” neopragmatists, who seem to delight more in the sophistry of their own banal arguments than in the pragmatic endeavors they allegedly prefer. What is not very persuasive in Norris’s presentation, however, is the contention that the works of Derrida and de Man carry with them a profoundly ethical and political message that can assist us in combating the entrenched conservatism of the Reagan-Bush-Thatcher- Major era. Indeed, it is precisely in the realm of ethics that Derrida and de Man are most open to attack. Derrida’s very style of debate has proven a barrier to discussion of philosophical and political issues. Although it would be silly not to grant his theoretical points in the debate with Searle, the manner in which he ridicules his adversary, refusing to clarify Searle’s misunderstandings and to confront issues on which they both have something to say, leads to a closing down of discussion. His encounter with Gadamer, a more patient and open interlocutor than Searle, repeats this elusive strategy; one has the impression here as well that Derrida simply does not want to enter into candid and direct debate about his theoretical position. His sarcastic and condescending dismissal of Anne McClintock and Rob Nixon, who criticize Derrida for his analysis of the word “apartheid,” provides a more directly political illustration of an arrogance of argumentation that Derrida has come to epitomize. Finally, one could detail–as I do in a forthcoming book Crossing Borders)–the lack of candor in his response to critics of de Man; in this performance from 1989 his dogmatism about his own position, his haughtiness concerning deconstruction, and his unwillingness to counter opponents’s legitimate objections was obvious except to deconstructive true believers in what has become (unfortunately) a quasi-religious cult.

     

    The afterword to Limited Inc. (1988), the book version containing his essay on Austin and his response to Searle, entitled “Toward An Ethic of Discussion,” thus has something of a hollow ring to it. Although Norris uses this afterword as a counter-illustration to the wayward practices of postmodernist thinking, a careful consideration of it would reveal seminal weaknesses in Derrida’s ethics and politics. Most blatant perhaps is Derrida’s interpretation of his use of the word “police” in his earlier rebuttal of Searle. In the final section of his lengthy response Derrida has written that “there is always a police and a tribunal ready to intervene each time that a rule . . . is invoked in a case involving signatures, events, or contexts.” He continues by hypothesizing a situation in which Searle is arrested by the Secret Service in Nixon’s White House and taken to a psychiatrist. He asserts that there is a connection “between the notion of responsibility manipulated by the psychiatric expert [the representative of law and of political-linguistic conventions, in the service of the State and its police] and the exclusion of parasitism.” He concludes by stating that the entire matter of the police must be reconsidered, “and not merely in a theoretical manner, if one does not want the police to be omnipotent” Limited Inc. 105-6). Searle’s practice, the exclusion of parasitism, is thus connected directly with the State and the police, and for good measure Derrida includes a warning about the possible omnipotence of the police.

     

    For a reader in 1977, when the debate originally occurred, it would have been difficult not to identify the police and the State with repression; it seemed that Derrida was making an openly political statement. But in 1988 he denies this most obvious reading: His statements “did not aim at condemning a determinate or particularly repressive politics by pointing out the implication of the police and of the tribunal whenever a rule is invoked concerning signatures, events, or contexts. Rather, I sought to recall that in its very generality, which is to say, before all specification, this implication is irreducible” Limited Inc. 134). Derrida is of course correct when he writes in 1988 that there is no society without police and no conceptuality without delimiting (or policing) factors. But there are nonetheless two disturbing aspects of his recent self-interpretation. The first is that Derrida seeks to control or limit meaning by clarifying his intention from 1977. He tells us how the word “police” “must be understood” Limited Inc. 136). Thus he would appear here to want his intention to govern the entire scene of meaning, a possibility he attributed to Searle and argued explicitly against in 1977. Second, he seems to argue disingenuously in 1988. Although his 1988 argument makes more philosophical sense, the rhetoric of his arguments in 1977 was certainly meant to suggest a political disqualification of Searle’s position. One cannot connect the police and the State–traditional buzz words, among the left, for repressive instances—with an adversary’s stance, and not expect that connection to be understood as a political attack. That Derrida denies this dimension of his 1977 essay appears simply as dishonesty. But in that same “ethical afterword” Derrida also seals himself off from any political criticism. Deconstruction, he tells us, if it has a political dimension, “is engaged in the writing . . . of a language and of a political practice that can no longer be comprehended, judged, deciphered by these codes [the traditional Western codes of right or left]” Limited Inc. 139). We are left with the conclusion that only deconstruction can comprehend, judge, and decipher what it is doing. Those who stand outside the light of its eternal truth have no right to pass political judgment. If a self-policing notion of deconstruction is thus the upshot of Derrida’s “ethic of discussion,” then Norris might want to reconsider its political usefulness.

     

    The case for de Man’s political usefulness is even weaker. It rests, in Norris’s view of things, on the notion of “aesthetic ideology.” Following de Man’s lead, Norris locates “aesthetic ideology” in post-Kantian philosophers who confound the realm of language, conceptual understanding, or linguistic representation with the phenomenal or natural world. No doubt this topos has been consistently thematized in de Man’s writings; it accounts for his placement of allegory above symbolism, his critique of romanticisms, and even his objections to literary theories such as Jauss’s aesthetics of reception. But the schema of intellectual history propagated by de Man and repeated by Norris is both undifferentiated and ahistorical. Friedrich Schiller, to whom Norris constantly refers as the first “misreader” of Kant and therefore the perpetrator of the original sin of “aesthetic ideology,” certainly differed from the author of the Critique of Judgment on matters of aesthetics. But Schiller’s relationship to Kant should not be categorized as a misreading, although Schiller undoubtedly misunderstood various aspects of Kantian thought. Rather, Schiller was trying to go beyond Kant in establishing an objective realm for aesthetic objects. He did this consciously and openly, and his purpose in doing so had to do not only with philosophy, but also with reactions to the French revolution. To wrench Schiller out of his historical moment and make the resulting abstraction responsible for a wayward tradition in aesthetic thought, which encompasses all major tendencies from the Romantics to the New Critics, is to propagate a type of black-and-white portrayal that recalls Heidegger’s totalized picture of Western philosophy since the pre-Socratics. Norris criticizes Lacoue-Labarthe for refusing to entertain socio- historical discussions of Heidegger’s work, but he himself consistently steers the reader away from a historical situating of theory that could lead to a more differentiated understanding.

     

    Even if we accept the schema informing “aesthetic ideology,” however, it is difficult to see why it has to be connected with political critique. It may be true that the organic worldview of Romanticism can lend itself to various political abuses, among them nationalism and fascism. But it can also have affinities with various sorts of ecological consciousness or with a “principled and consistent” socialism that Norris defends in his introduction. Norris offers no argument for political affiliations either. Instead he contends that “collapsing ontological distinctions is an error that all too readily falls in with a mystified conception of Being, nature and truth” (268), and that “there is no great distance” (21) between the notion of an organic state and an authentic nationalism. These juxtapositions masquerading as arguments serve only to discredit anything not associated with de Manian thought, but in their undifferentiated, schematic, and ahistorical formulation they are only persuasive to those already convinced of their correctness. In short, there is no reason–and Norris supplies none–to connect de Man’s mode of operation with anything politically progressive, nor any grounds for finding his objects of criticism inherently regressive. It is probably worth noting that de Man’s own theoretical position did not move him toward any great political activity during his three decades of teaching in the United States, and that the short speeches at his funeral (found in Yale French Studies in 1985) contain no references to political inspiration he supplied. Most of the talk about “aesthetic ideology” surfaces only after his wartime journalism came to light, although Norris did develop this line of thought somewhat earlier to defend de Man against political attacks by Frank Lentricchia and Terry Eagleton. The notion that de Man enunciates a coherent and powerfully progressive political program is thus something totally absent from comments about him during his lifetime.

     

    Unless we buy Norris’s line on de Man, however, his endeavor in the final chapter to save de Man while simultaneously criticizing Lacoue-Labarthe and Heidegger is an empty gesture. While the differences between Heidegger and de Man with regard to National Socialism are not trivial, we should not ignore the obvious similarities. Most notable among these is their postwar attitude of repression and prevarication. Neither man owned up publicly to his actions, and there is much evidence to suggest that de Man misled people with regard to his activities during the war. To suggest, as Norris does, that de Man’s postwar writing must be read as a determined effort to resist the effects of the very ideology that had entrapped him is simply not supported by common sense. Antifascist and political essays are not de Man’s preferred genre; he produced no body of significant statements on any directly political matter as an academician. Moreover, when political topics suggested themselves he consistently turned away from them. Norris himself points to his essay on Heidegger from 1953 in which the context of Heidegger’s interpretations of Holderlin–World War II and national destiny–are written off as a “side issue that would take us away from our topic.” The bulk of the writings we have at our disposal indicates that Norris is performing the same function for de Man as Lacoue-Labarthe does for Heidegger. Both claim that the best way to understand the phenomenon to which de Man/Heidegger succumbed is to look at de Man/Heidegger’s theory. Norris writes: “What Lacoue-Labarthe cannot for a moment entertain is the idea that Heidegger’s philosophical concerns might not, after all, have come down to him as a legacy of `Western metaphysics’ from Plato to Nietzsche, but that they might–on the contrary–be products of his own, deeply mystified and reactionary habits of mind.” If we substitute “Norris” for “Lacoue-Labarthe,” “de Man” for “Heidegger,” “aesthetic ideology” for “Western metaphysics,” and “from Schiller to Jauss” for “from Plato to Nietzsche,” we can see that the parallelism Norris seeks to escape is unwittingly retained.

     

    In this most welcome and perceptive book on contemporary theory Norris thus fails to step back far enough from the critics he has discussed in the past. De Man and Derrida are powerful and interesting voices in theory, and they are certainly a cut above many who would emulate their deconstructive strategies. But their political and ethical valence remains clouded by the undecidabilities of the very practices they exhibit in their writings. There is also a theoretical dimension to their inability to offer a sustained ethical vision. The preference for viewing language as a system rather than as speech acts, for looking at semantics and semiology rather than at pragmatics, for remaining in the realm of virtual language rather than its actualization in the world–in short, for valorizing everywhere langue over parole–prevents de Man, Derrida, and Norris as well from theorizing ethics and politics. We only have to look at Derrida’s initial remarks on Austin to see why deconstruction has such difficulties in connecting theory and practice. Instead of examining Austin from the potentially radical reorientation that Austin himself offers–language as action–Derrida shifts the discussion back to the “non-semiotic,” to the level of linguistic meaning that Austin wanted to leave behind. A similar unwillingness to conceive language pragmatically, as always infused with ethical substance, is evident in Derrida’s confrontation with Gadamer. In this regard, as Gadamer points out, Derrida’s point of departure is retrograde. Norris’s attempt to make the deconstructive strategies of de Man and Derrida the basis for a political opposition is thus a questionable undertaking. In this his most overtly political volume to date he might have done better to explore more thoroughly those theories that take language-as-action as their starting point.

     

  • The Power and the Story. Review of Nye, Andrea. Words of Power: A Feminist Reading of the History of Logic. London: Routledge, 1990; Gross, Alan G. The Rhetoric of Science. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1990.

    John Batali

    Department of Cognitive Sciences
    University of California-San Diego

    <Batali@cogsci.ucsd.edu>

     

    Nye, Andrea. Words of Power: A Feminist Reading of the History of Logic. London: Routledge. 1990.

     

    Gross, Alan G. The Rhetoric of Science. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. 1990.

     

    Andrea Nye begins her “reading” of the history of logic by recounting how the 6th century BC philosopher Parmenides describes a poetic journey “past the towns of knowing men” in search of ultimate reality. Driven by desire and led by “maidens of the Sun,” he passes through imposing gates and down forbidding caverns and is ultimately allowed to inspect “being” which turns out to be a perfectly round and smooth sphere. But what is more important, and what Parmenides can take back to the practical world of life, is what Dike, the female keeper of being, says about it: “it is and to not be is not.” The principle of Being is what it is: eternal, simple, unchanging, true. Everything else is not.

     

    In this vision of Parmenides’s lie nascent two of the most venerated products of western thought: science and logic. Science as the investigation of being, the nature of nature. Logic as the codification of truth, the articulated norms of thought. And in Parmenides vision, the two lie together. Being inheres in thoughts about it, so that

     

    It is the same thing to be thought as to be a thought. For not without something of what is, in what is expressed, can there be thinking. (Nye, 16, translating Parmenides fragment 7)

     

    This theme, the relation between the true and thoughts about it and paths to it, is the subject of the books under review. Andrea Nye traces the history of logic from Parmenides through the approaches of Plato and Aristotle, thence to the theo-logic of the middle ages, and finally to the modern mathematical form of logic invented by Frege. Along the way, as conceptions about logic change, and the social uses to which logic is put change, the connection between logic and the truth of being becomes weaker and weaker, to the point where modern logicians take it as a virtue that their systems are absolutely “formal” and totally disconnected from reality (but are nonetheless adequate means of representing that reality).

     

    Gross, in his study of science, examines not the ideal path to truth that logic allegedly provides, but the actual workings of scientific persuasion, the “rhetoric” of science. He too begins with Aristotle, taking the “Rhetoric” as his “master theoretic text,” but putting it to a use Aristotle would not have liked. For Aristotle, science was the realm of the absolute and the unchanging, about which knowledge was available to all (all male Greek land owning citizens, at least). Rhetoric was for the law-court or the political assembly or the drinking party, where passion and prejudice prevail and could be molded to the desired shape. But Gross reminds us that passion and prejudice prevail everywhere in human activity, and even more so in the swirl of ego and power that is science.

     

    In both books, the truth and validity claims of logic and science are bracketed, are put on hold–not to be denied, or even diagnosed, but simply put aside. What interests Nye is not the truth of logic but the different conceptions of logic that appear in different moments of history, the different uses for logic of different societies, with different concerns and different notions of power and truth. And for Gross it is not the nature of being that interests him in the quests of scientists, but those quests themselves. Both Nye and Gross work with the truths of history: this happened, these people said this, wrote that, about science or about logic. Whether what they said was true or not is not the issue. Instead the issue is what happened and how they felt about it.

     

    For Andrea Nye, logic is not to be taken as a single thing towards which progress can be made. And, though her reading is feminist, she does not seek to show that logic is some specifically male syndrome. She presents and distances herself from a number of claims that she is not making:

     

    Logic, one current argument goes, is the creation of defensive male subjects who have lost touch with their lived experience and define all being in rigid oppositional categories modeled on a primal contrast between male and female. Or another: logic articulates oppressive thought-structures that channel human behavior into restrictive gender roles. Or: logic celebrates the unity of a pathological masculine self-identity that cannot listen and recognizes only negation and not difference. (Nye, 5)

     

    Instead, the word `logic’ points to the complex set of attitudes that any society has towards thought and truth and validity in argument. That such topics could form the subject matter of an academic, more or less technical domain, says a great deal about a society right away. But the specific form that logic takes in any society will depend as much on the historical and material circumstances of that society as it will depend (if it does at all) on the ultimate nature of truth.

     

    Therefore logic is no more male than society is. But then, societies often are dominated by males, if not thereby characteristically “male.” Certainly some of the societies that Nye is examining, societies which by coincidence or not were the ones where logic flourished–Classical and Hellenist Greece, and the Medieval Catholic church–were rigidly male enterprises. As a set of attitudes about truth and as a set of norms of thought, a society’s logic thereby forms part of the discourse in which power is channelled. It may not be that there is anything masculine about logic; however, it is one of the many tools by which the male elite can and does maintain and extend its power.

     

    “Reading” logic means that Nye is not going to treat the history of logic as a steady march of progress. She is going to take seriously the widely divergent things that its originators said about what they were doing, and the different uses to which it is put. In looking at what a society says about logic and how it makes use of its products, one gets a glimpse of what that society thinks about thinking and argument and how they are related to the exercise of power.

     

    In each of the chapters of her book she examines the logic produced by particular thinkers in specific historical circumstances. She examines how the society’s “need” for a logic was met or not met by what was produced. The specifically feminist aspect of her account is developed in her view of the history of logic as an outsider. She refuses to accept the different logics as anything more than what they historically are:

     

    There is no one Logic for which [a single critique] can account, but only men and logics, and the substance of these logics, as of any written or spoken language, are material and historically specific relations between men, between men and women, and between them and the objects of human concern. (Nye 5)

     

    Gross begins his account of the rhetorical aspects of science by reminding us that scientists in fact spend a great deal of time persuading. They must persuade other scientists of the validity of their claims and the correctness of their theories. They must persuade granting agencies and promotion committees of the importance of their work. They must persuade the general public that their enterprise has value.

     

    But I think that the general feeling is that the practice of persuasion is somehow not the real job. Certainly writing grant proposals is a pain, and many scientists probably would agree with the sentiment expressed by Galileo, that if their colleagues would just look at the results, they would see that they are correct. People have to be persuaded to see the truth only because they are unwilling or unable to see it directly.

     

    Gross considers “entertaining [the possibility] . . . that the claims of science are solely the products of persuasion.” Accordingly, his method is to follow the lead of Aristotle in analyzing scientific texts, “to find out in each case the existing means of persuasion.” He looks at a wide variety of scientific texts: published papers, the correspondence of the early days of the Royal Society of London, drafts and peer-review responses of papers, newspaper editorials written during the recent debate about recombinant DNA. In all cases the procedure is to attempt to understand the rhetorical techniques that are being applied. Sometimes the arguments appeal to explicit methodological principles, such as falsification, or an appeal to the evidence. Sometimes the arguments are by analogy, or are based on elegance or simplicity of a theory or an account. Rather than take any single one of these as the ultimate foundation of scientific truth, Gross wants to understand which ones are used, and which ones work. For Gross, the Parmenidean injunction that “what is is” would be taken, were it to appear in a scientific text, as just another rhetorical technique, sometimes convincing, sometimes not.

     

    Throughout his book, Gross has to deal with the claim that science is really about external reality, that there are “brute facts of nature” and all of this persuasion is just a detour on the path to it:

     

    The rhetorical view of science does not deny "the brute facts of nature"; it merely affirms that these "facts," whatever they are, are not science itself, knowledge itself. Scientific knowledge consists of the current answers to three questions, answers that are the product of professional conversation: What range of "brute facts" is worth investigating? How is this range to be investigated? What do the results of these investigations mean? Whatever they are, the "brute facts" themselves mean nothing; only statements have meaning, and of the truth of statements we must be persuaded. These processes, by which problems are chosen and results interpreted, are essentially rhetorical: only through persuasion are importance and meaning established. As rhetoricians we study the world as meant by science. (Gross 4)

     

    By studying the means of persuasion, especially as used in some important texts in the history of science that turned out to be persuasive, we can understand more about the process of science. Does this tell us more about its product, the supposed truths of science itself, the spherical essence about which all of this persuasive practice goes on?

     

    Both Nye and Gross might be seen to be committing either or both of two well-known logical errors, the “genetic fallacy” and the “ad hominem” argument. The genetic fallacy is the claim that the origins of an idea are relevant to its truth or falsity. An ad hominem argument is one that attempts to deny a claim by attacking the maker of the claim. But to accuse either Nye or Gross of these mistakes is to misunderstand what they are trying to do. It is to suppose that they are entering into the debate about the claims of logic or of science. But that is exactly what they are not doing. They are trying to understand the workings of those claims, to see where they come from and where they go. In some sense this ought to be an interesting enterprise purely from a historical point of view.

     

    But the enterprise assumes more importance when we remember how highly valued both logic and science are in this, our ultra-technological world. There is simply no reason to believe that any particular “meta-narrative” about the ultimate nature of either logic or science is right, or there is no reason to believe it without a careful look at what logic and science really are and have been. Much of the philosophy of science has defined the enterprise either in terms of its ultimate goal (e.g., to describe nature), or in terms of formal aspects of its performance (e.g., as following a hypothetico-deductive method, or as making falsifiable claims). Whether or not these characterizations made any internal sense, the question still remained as to whether they described anything, in particular whether they described what it is that people who call themselves scientists actually do. The emerging “sociological” approach to the history of science, as exemplified by Gross, illustrates that it is possible to put these a priori claims on hold, at least for a while, and look closely at the way the scientific world works.

     

    As for logic, remember that logic is explicitly a prescriptive discipline. Every writer in the history of logic has had to deal with the fact that people just don’t “think logically.” At best, logics are developed such that the axioms or rules are intuitive, or at least they are with a little thought. (Or with a lot of thought, as Nye points out, as the Stoic philosophers wrestled with the right way to characterize the meaning or function of “if,” a question which has not been really solved two thousand years later.) Logics are developed as ways to organize and perhaps restrict thinking, so it would seem crucial to examine the purposes that such organization and restriction are meant to serve.

     

    One of the problems that we have in assessing logic today is that in the post-Fregean world logic has attained a status not quite imagined by many of its developers. On the one hand logic has achieved a level of mathematical sophistication, yet in its technical sophistication it has become a domain of expertise. A solid grounding in logic is no longer considered part of the “well-rounded” education expected of our society. How many members of the US Senate, compared, let us imagine, with the Athenian assembly or the senate or Rome, know what modus ponens is? It is not that this is in any sense a step back, that our Senators would be more competent with a solid grounding in logic, but it is true that until the 20th century it was felt to be so.

     

    In the hands of Nye and Gross, the histories of logic and science become histories of the relations between persuasion and power. Clearly if you can persuade someone of something, however you do so, you have thereby a measure of power over that person. Likewise, having power over someone is a good way to get them to agree with you. Logic was an attempt to codify the means of argument, but of course a certain amount of power needed to be vested in those doing the codification. Hence the extreme urgency of the increasingly worldly medieval church’s interest in the nature of logic.

     

    And the technical, mathematical, applicable science in the 17th century brought a new kind of power over nature. With that power came the potential for wealth and fame, this coming at the same time as the rise of a mercantile class ready to plunder the new knowledge. One of Gross’s best chapters treats the events leading to the formation of the Royal Society of London, and the subsequent “invention” of the idea of priority of discovery. Isaac Newton comes off in a particularly bad light when the Royal Society formed a committee to decide whether Newton or Leibniz had discovered the calculus first. Given that the committee was formed of Englishmen, it was unlikely for Leibniz’s side to get a fair hearing, but the final “Account” condemns him in such harsh terms that, reading it, it is difficult to believe that Leibniz understood even simple arithmetic. It turns out, however, that Newton had managed to subvert the committee and had written the “Account” himself!

     

    Interesting as it is for its treatment of the historical characters, the episode illustrates how the structures and concerns and methods of a society develop as the society deals with real issues and problems. The importance of priority and the precise way it would be assigned were topics of considerable debate in Europe at the time, with some believing that priority was of no consequence at all, and others offering elaborate means for securing priority without actually publishing results (e.g., writing the result in code, or posting a sealed letter to the Royal Society). But Newton’s behavior and evident concern for absolute priority helped force the issue. And, finally, established as the unquestioned discoverer of the calculus, Newton’s personal authority was enhanced even further.

     

    These movements back and forth of power and argument and discovery point out that no fundamental dispute takes place entirely within a pre-existing logical framework. For one thing, one can’t prove the correctness of a specific logic or the correctness or appropriateness of logic itself, within logic. Logic only “works” within some sort of scaffolding in which its axioms are defined, its rules of inference set down. This was implicitly understood in Classical Greece. Parmenides presents being and the path to it as revealed by the goddesses, the ultimate forms of Plato, whose properties, dimly remembered, form the basis for our understanding of the world, were presented to us before we were born. For Aristotle, more empirical then these two, the ultimate logic had to be the “logic” visible in the biological world–of genus and species and essences and differentia.

     

    Once this alogical basis is in place, once the members of the society are convinced that logical thinking is a worthy goal, they can then proceed. Medieval logic interestingly splits the justification for logic in two. On the one hand is the revealed truth of God, on the other the logics of classical Athens. Characteristically, this split of the form of logic and its “premises” led to the extreme nominalism of William of Occam in which logic involve relations among arbitrary “meanings,” with no necessary connection between those relations and what they were about. The Bible would do as a source of premises just as well as would the Koran or the Egyptian Book of the Dead. Now of course this view was not very comforting to the established Church. The separation of the form and the meaning of logic is always a difficult one to maintain. Medieval realism attempted to connect more tightly the logical relations between predicates and the ultimate reality for which they stood, culminating perhaps in Anselm’s argument that God must exist because of logical properties of Its description.

     

    In many ways Gottlob Frege is the main character of Nye’s book. He stands at the beginning of the 20th century literally scared by the changes in the intellectual world around him: imaginary numbers, non-Euclidean geometries, transfinite sets. Did such things make any sense? Which ones? They all seemed to make sense, the derivations and proofs that involved them seemed to have the proper rhetorical form for mathematics but this seeming wasn’t enough. Could there be a way to determine which kinds of mathematical arguments are valid and which not, and thus be more confident of which kinds of mathematical entities exist? That is: could there be a logic of mathematics?

     

    I hope that at least part of the urgency of this question is clear. Before the 19th century mathematics seemed to be describing reality. The truths of mathematics seemed to be truths about the world, that ultimately one could go out and check. The formula for the volume of a sphere could be verified by immersing the sphere in water and measuring the displacement. Parallel lines could be seen never to meet (sort of). But now entities and claims were being made that it would seem could never be checked. Mathematics seemed to have slipped from being, but the new results seemed, when viewed the right way, to be relatively natural (if surprising) extensions of the old.

     

    As it turned out, Frege was unable to satisfy himself with his attempt to make mathematics logical, and had to be content with making logic mathematical. Others have solved some of the technical questions that stymied Frege, but the question of the ultimate foundation of mathematics still remains open.

     

    Nye then considers the attempts of the various philosophers and scientists influenced by Frege to make use of the new creation in other arenas. Perhaps the precision of the new mathematical logic could be used to separate scientific questions from meaningless “metaphysical” ones. Perhaps one could use logic to understand the form of moral or aesthetic arguments as if proving that it is wrong to kill one’s mother is the same as proving that 2+2=4.

     

    Furthermore it might be possible to use the mathematical logic to understand and perhaps to make some sense of the meaning of language itself. Perhaps, under all of the flower and emotion and fuzz of language there is a pure “logical form” which expresses the basic or pure or literal meaning of a sentence. Valid combinations of sentences (valid arguments) could be understood as combinations of sentences whose logical forms were valid.

     

    Now I should say that when treated as a technical tool this approach has had a great deal of success. Certain facts about language and about language use are well illustrated when sentences of mathematical logic are used to gloss certain of their semantic properties. But it is a long way from that observation to the argument that what we are doing when we use language is to dress up a crystalline logical form with tinsel and fluff.

     

    Consider the steps involved here: First, language is observed to allow for specious arguments as well as valid ones. Second, certain arguments can be seen to be valid on the basis of their form. Third, a tiny subset of those arguments, about a particular domain, namely mathematics, are given a precise, formal characterization. Finally this formal characterization is claimed to hold at the center of language.

     

    Gross attempts to draw more philosophical conclusions from his studies. He realizes that a focus on the rhetorical aspects of scientific practice might make it seem as if science is just rhetoric. He argues that his analyses leave room for a sort of “rhetorical realism.” However, he seems to stumble here since he has shown that the only actual role such “meta- narratives” of science play is in the rhetoric that they can support. It is not clear what rhetorical role “rhetorical realism” could play except in favor of the very relativism he professes concern about.

     

    Nye accepts that one “logical” response to her history is to suggest that perhaps some different sort of logic might be developed, a “feminist” or at least a “female” logic that would perhaps alleviate some of the problems. But of course it is not logic that has kept women and “other” races and nationalities and classes subordinated, it was and is political and social interests and institutions. Logic was and is only one of the many tools toward that end. However a very important tool, since the attitudes and roles of logic in a society are very centrally tied up with the attitudes toward thought and argument. Nye argues against the idea of a feminist logic and for a society that values “reading” instead of the sort of categorical “registering” that logic involves. It seems to me that “reading” is exactly what Gross is doing in his rhetorical analysis of science, and indeed rhetoric, conceived classically, is a field whose time ought to come.

     

    What is the sense in which these two books deserve to be called “postmodern”? I think that the first step in the answer has to do with the fact that neither seeks to overturn or replace the disciplines they are examining. While it may be possible to build a case for reform out of some of the authors’ charges, it is also possible that a practitioner or true-believer could be unmoved. The obvious response would be to claim that both Nye and Gross spend their time examining the scaffolding, and not returning later to see the finished building, but that in fact a good study of scaffolding is necessary and important and perhaps even quite interesting. (Consider, for example the biological community’s response to “The Double Helix.”)

     

    As I mentioned above, it would seem that to take Nye’s and Gross’s points any further, to take them as actual challenges to science or to logic, would be to accept either or both of the ad hominem argument and the genetic fallacy. It is here that I think the postmodernism of the approach comes in. Nye and Gross both stand on what ought to be an unstable point. They are both working well within a tradition of careful scholarship and even an Enlightenment-style respect for the centrality of Ancient Greek thought. Both of them, but perhaps Gross more then Nye, seem to view their subjects with respect. For Gross this is explicit, in using rhetorical techniques originating with Aristotle to analyze science (a practice that, as he admits, Aristotle wouldn’t have initially approved of). Nye, as a feminist, as a woman reading logic, is less willing to adopt the tradition as beneficial, but she does adopt, in a more or less ironic way, the commitment that certain standards of argument ought to apply.

     

    How far can the process be removed from the product? How much can the history of an institution or a practice be divorced from its present state? The modernist position might be that the tradition is baggage, it needs to be shed as soon as it gets in the way. For Gross and Nye, as perhaps it is for the postmodern view, we cannot free ourselves so easily from that baggage; it is not in fact baggage, it is us. The stories of logic and science are our stories, and we are still making them up as we go along. It is ironic perhaps to use the method of classical rhetoric to analyze scientific discourse; after all, what status does a rhetorical analysis have after the claims of science are shown to be rhetorical? I mean it would have seemed that science’s claims are the strongest. But now it seems not so clear.

     

    It isn’t a challenge to logic or science that Nye and Gross offer, but an account of how those enterprises actually are. It is only when those accounts are viewed against the self-descriptions that they seem to be challenges. Logic is not wrong or invalid or even incomplete because it was developed for the promulgation of the faith, nor is biology wrong because it works by means of persuasion and consensus. The challenge is felt only by those who believe that in fact the process does matter to the product.

     

    But–and perhaps I am finally showing myself here–the process does matter, it has to matter. Only if we somehow think that either science or logic is somehow complete or close to complete, can we take any of its products as assured. Now perhaps the method of truth-tables in propositional logic can be felt to be relatively sound and perhaps it is, perhaps it is as sound as the methods we have for predicting eclipses; but such examples are relatively sparse. We just don’t know, in a century filled with challenges to the accepted views in both science and logic and everything else, where the next challenge will arise. Our understanding of how such challenges might develop, and what we ought to expect to do about them, can only be enhanced with a better understanding of science as process. It is a process with its roots in tradition, but not its foundation. Nothing can be done without the tradition, without the history, but anything in that tradition can be overturned, probably based on a challenge supported by some other traditional view or mode of argument or example.

     

    It almost seems that Parmenides’s insight remains, except that where it has been traditionally taken as the foundation of knowledge, it now serves as the fulcrum of irony.

     

  • Review of Flax, Jane. Thinking Fragments: Psychoanalysis, Feminism, and Postmodernism in the Contemporary West. Berkeley: California UP, 1990.

    Susan Ross

    Department of Speech Communication
    Pennsylvania State University

    <sxr5@psuvm>

     

    Flax, Jane. Thinking Fragments: Psychoanalysis, Feminism, and Postmodernism in the Contemporary West. Berkeley: U California P, 1990.

     

    In the opening chapter of her book, Thinking Fragments: Psychoanalysis, Feminism, and Postmodernism in the Contemporary West, Jane Flax states that “the conversational form of the book represents my attempt to find a postmodern voice, to answer for myself the challenge of finding one way (among many possible ways) to continue theoretical writing while abandoning the ‘truth’ enunciating or adjudicating modes feminists and postmodernists so powerfully and appropriately call into question.” Flax does many things with her book, but she never attains such a voice, a problem which I think is related to the difficulty of resolving the relationship of the chosen themes and to the absence of personal experience within the book.

     

    What it seems Flax wants to do is something akin to what Chris Weedon did in her foundational book, Feminist Practice and Poststructuralist Theory–explicate and critique the three schools of psychoanalysis, feminism, and postmodernism, and show how they interrelate to achieve a kind of cohesive whole. What Flax lacks, particularly in comparison with Weedon, is any political agenda that spurs the arguments in some positive direction. Her aptly named final chapter, “No Conclusions,” seems sadly accurate as she weaves aimlessly in her “search for intelligibility and meaning.”

     

    Flax’s seeming lack of focus is, ironically, rooted in the strength of the book, which is the comprehensive treatment of the writings of Freud, Winnicott, Lacan, Chodorow, Lyotard, Derrida, Rorty, Dinnerstein, and Foucault to show how each has contributed to Western thinking and culture. Thinking Fragments is exhaustive in fleshing out the basic tenets and contradictions of each thinker. Flax also understands and reminds us of the tension of the postmodern writing task: the tendency, in the process of presenting theoretical constructs, of reifying them in the very way postmodernist thinking encourages us not to.

     

    If Flax wishes us to use the book as a basic primer in the origins of poststructuralist thinking, it would be helpful for her to provide more explicit signposts for the reader, such as chapter/book part headings that match the chosen theoretical categories, and more guidelines for the reader as to what purpose the incessant questioning serves. In other words, if the sections “The Selves Conceptions,” “Gender(s) and Dis-contents,” and “Knowledge in Question” carried the more explicit and accessible titles of “Psychoanalysis,” “Feminism,” and “Postmodernism,” then the book would serve as a more useful reference and less like a wandering journey. If the book is indeed intended to be an open-ended, less organized journey of sorts, then the form needs to be opened up more completely. Flax swims somewhere in between, and it is not always clear what the issues are, except that she allows each sentence to bounce off of itself–the book is riddled with disclaimers of “yet,” “however,” and “but” that follow firm assertions.

     

    Flax claims in her early chapter on “Transitional Thinking” that her muddiness results from the fact that when she discusses one theoretical category “the other two voices will interrogate and critique the predominant one.” Thus, she excuses herself from rigorous, decisive explication of the “voices” and of inherent issues. How psychoanalysis fits into “transitional thinking,” given its conservative tradition of biological focus, seems an important issue to address–feminists have been questioning such essentialist viewpoints for awhile. The tension of Enlightenment-based theories and the feminist deploring of rationalism and its rigidity needs also to be addressed. It is not that Flax is unaware of these tensions, but she assumes that they have been addressed elsewhere, finished, and discarded. Her assumption, for instance, that the reified categories of Psychoanalysis, Feminism, and Postmodernism justify themselves as a chosen framework for such a book is unspoken and suspect. Why do they represent “our own time apprehended in thought” and why are they the crucial “voices” necessary to address issues of self, gender, knowledge, and power?

     

    One of the most important questions for women, and yet one of the hardest for them to answer, is WHAT DO YOU WANT? Since the impetus of feminism originally grew out of women’s need to have choices and options in response to that question, any book that claims to be feminist should follow that spirit without resorting to what may look on the surface like an appropriately postmodern, open-ended, but actually despairing uncertainty of purpose. Flax’s final chapter, “No Conclusions,” is so convoluted and directionless that it is difficult to pull any sound philosophical or even interesting basis out of it. She says, “a fundamental and unresolved question pervading this book is how to justify–or even frame–theoretical and narrative choices (including my own) without recourse to “truth” or domination. I am convinced we can and should justify our choices to ourselves and others, but what forms these justifications can meaningfully assume is not clear to me.” That’s a good question. Does the reader have the right to call Flax to account and try to answer it? While her admission of her own lack of clarity is healthily postmodern, it lacks commitment. Does a dynamic, pluralistic sense of self imply that it disappears totally? The implications for women, whose selves have long been absent from discussions of society, history, and thought, seem ominous.

     

    Perhaps my insistence on such a goal-oriented focus might be rooted in comparison with other postmodern articles where women’s issues don’t disappear under the rubric of seemingly “neutral” categories that actually themselves carry baggage resembling the “absolute” forms of knowledge and power Flax supposedly denounces. Flax herself wrote, for instance, an essay in 1980 which appeared in The Future of Difference. The essay described mother-daughter relationships, and offered a personal case history which excitingly showed the political implications of private struggles for women. The article also matched in form as well as content the feminist notion that personal struggles are indeed political realities. Similarly, Teresa Ebert’s recent article in College English, “The ‘Difference’ of Postmodern Feminism,” describes the search for an ideal feminist model, one that incorporates the notion of social struggle within language, and serves to demonstrate the global implications of combining feminism and postmodernism. Ebert discusses the exciting potential for using language and all its inherent significations to dissect social conflicts. Ebert’s skepticism of the “uncritical rejection of totality” because of its lack of global perspective seems more productive for feminists than Flax’s reluctance to look too far beyond established postmodernist categories and discussions, seemingly in order to avoid any hint of totalization in her discourse. In short, Flax lacks the necessary political element of a feminist work, perhaps because of her stated lack of belief in “inexorable, inner logic,” or more ominously, perhaps because her commitment to the idea of “these transitional times” leaves no room for any overarching sense of meaning other than the endless open-endedness of things.

     

    In these exciting times of theoretical upheaval, a book like Flax’s should take advantage of its multidisciplinary grounding and move beyond the level of explication of theoretical bases, particularly since her explanations are not clear-cut enough to serve the beginning user (she isn’t strong on definition of terms, for instance) and are too stream-of-consciousness to be of much use to seasoned fans of postmodernist thinking. Since deconstruction seeks to unearth the nature of power relations, a postmodern work is allowed the loose style of Flax’s book only if it adapts a future-oriented focus necessary for any feminist work–that of reclaiming power and creating alterantive sources of knowledge/power relations. Postmodernism should not be used as an excuse to avoid commitment to a political vision, nor should its emphasis on absences be used to side-step the validity of our own personal experiences (particularly a feminist project) or our responsibility of coming to terms with crises in our society.

     

    Works Cited

     

    • Ebert, Teresa L. “The ‘Difference’ of Postmodern Feminism.” College English 53 (December 1991): 886-904.
    • Flax, Jane. “Mother-Daughter Relationships: Psychodynamics, Politics, and Philosophy.” The Future of . . .. Hester Eisenstein and Alice Jardine Eds. Boston: G.K. Hall, 1980. 20-40.
    • Weedon, Chris. Feminist Practice and Poststructuralist Theory. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1987.

     

  • What Can She Know?

    Rose Norman

    Department of English
    University of Alabama-Huntsville

    <rnorman@uahvax1>

     

    Code, Lorraine. What Can She Know? Feminist Theory and the Construction of Knowledge. Ithaca: Cornell UP, 1991.

     

    When it comes to “knowing,” does it matter who does the knowing? Is knowing independent of the knower, and if not, what is it about the knower that affects the knowing? Canadian philosopher Lorraine Code argues persuasively that whether the knower is a man or woman matters so much that understanding why requires a feminist epistemology. That project involves a paradigm shift in epistemology, from valuing autonomy and objectivity (“pure reason”) to valuing interdependence and subjectivity (communal knowledge); from focusing on the relation of a proposition to reality, to focusing on the interrelationship of subject and proposition in creating knowledge/power.

     

    What Can She Know?, a book collecting and synthesizing work begun in Code’s 1981 paper “Is the Sex of the Knower Epistemologically Significant?” Metaphilosophy 1981), is an important step toward articulating the feminist epistemology needed to theorize the interaction of knower and knowing. I suspect the book will be most useful to feminists and to those who already accept postmodern views about the instability of the subject and the constructed nature of reality (as we “know” it). What is characterized as “malestream” philosophy, by far the bulk of what is published and taught about philosophy, is the epistemology against which Code marshals evidence in a complex, nuanced, and deeply engaging argument. Code’s most effective rhetorical aid is her own evenhandedness and clarity in synthesizing a broad array of often-contradictory philosophical positions, from Immanuel Kant to Carol Gilligan, from Aristotle to Sara Ruddick, from Hans Georg Gadamer to Mary Field Belenky.

     

    Code manages this in what I would describe as a non-combative discourse that resolutely avoids dichotomizing. She steps into the discursive gap between a deconstructive practice emphasizing undecideability, and the traditional practice emphasizing universality and gender neutrality. Her own practice weaves a web of understanding between those polarities, with gender as her chief point of departure. In staking out an epistemological territory she eventually describes as “middle ground,” Code positions herself between such dichotomizing debates as nature/nurture and essentialism/constructionism, debates that currently occupy many feminist theorists as well as philosophers of all kinds. Her position, moreover, is dynamic, not static, and emerges developmentally in succeeding chapters of the book. For example, her use of “sex” instead of “gender” in the early chapters turns out to be a deliberate retention of the language she and others used when first theorizing these issues. (In a footnote, Code defends this usage on historical grounds, “gender” being a relatively recent usage, “sex” being the term used by epistemologists discussed in her early chapters.) Conceptually, “middle ground” may be the wrong metaphor for establishing a new paradigm for thinking about thinking. “Common ground” seems to be what Code is seeking and what she most successfully achieves. Her critique establishes this common ground chiefly by articulating key feminist theories that challenge widely held beliefs about the procedures for defining and attaining knowledge. Often, she integrates feminist theory with what is useful from such non-feminists as Aristotle, Kant, Nietzsche, and Foucault. Code is especially effective in adducing what is useful in traditional philosophy, wasting little time attacking what is not useful, except in establishing the ways that what counts as knowledge has traditionally been defined so as to exclude women. Most of her opening chapter is devoted to showing how any claim for “women’s knowledge,” knowledge from a domain assigned to sterotypically-defined “women,” has been declared not-knowledge. Furthermore, she argues, the exclusion does not work symmetrically for men; that is, knowledge from a domain assigned to men has been assumed to be gender-neutral. Men define the norm for defining knowledge.

     

    These and other ideas about gendered knowledge, and Code’s debunking of claims for gender-neutrality, are familiar in women’s studies. In fact, Code’s careful documentation of these ideas makes the book very valuable as a bibliographic guide to scores of feminist essays over the last twenty years. But they are not new ideas, and Code’s contribution is more one of synthesizing than of formulating a procedure or practice for the feminist epistemology she sees as a desirable goal. Her accomplishment is to prepare a site for this new epistemology, lay groundwork for the paradigm shift needed for re-visioning the world in ways that no longer contribute to political oppression of women and other devalued groups.

     

    Code’s critique of received thinking about epistemology makes four major points:

     

    1) Dichotomous thinking polarizes ideas and creates an underclass, the less desirable side of the dichotomy. Dichotomizing also feeds into modes of argumentation that emphasize winning more than understanding, thereby perpetuating political oppression of the underclass. Code avoids dichotomy in various ways, notably by defining knowledge as “inextricably, subjective and objective,” the two supposed opposites being in dynamic interplay in the “creation of all knowledge worthy of the label” (27).

     

    2) Objectivity is overemphasized in inquiry. Code recommends reclaiming subjectivity and re-valuing the subject of inquiry. She warns against “autonomy-of-reason thinking,” a style of thinking that claims reason can operate independently of the thinker’s personal locatedness.

     

    3) We are all interdependent, our subjectivity formed in relation to others. In this respect, we are “second persons,” a term Code takes from philosopher Annette Baier Postures of the Mind: Essays on Mind and Morals, 1985), and applies broadly as a counter to the prevailing autonomy-of-reason mode. Our own personal locatedness in a particular time, place, class, etc., should be our point of departure for analysis.

     

    4) Ideology is a driving force in creating knowledge/power in the Foucauldian sense that the construction of knowledge perpetuates power relations.

     

    What counts as knowledge in mainstream philosophy is derived from the sciences, where the focus is on what can be known about “controllable, manipulable, predictable objects” in the physical world (175). Epistemologists have theorized paradigmatic knowledge in terms of object-oriented simples, using the formula “S knows that P” to locate “objective” truth in the physical world in situations like “S knows that the door is open.” Testing the proposition then focuses on the relation of P (the door is open) to physical reality, and ignores the relation of S to P, since the epistemic agent is assumed to be merely a placekeeper, not affecting the truth of what is known. Code challenges both 1) the use of simples tied to physical reality as sources of paradigmatic knowledge, and 2) the notion that the epistemic agent has no bearing on physical reality. Her most telling point in this critique is that the knowledge gained from object-oriented simples is so shallow as to be not worth knowing, and, furthermore, is inadequate for inference into more complex realms.

     

    Code’s alternative to the subject-object paradigm is a complex one, friendship (human-human interaction), a paradigm that she proposes as a better relational model than Sara Ruddick’s “maternal thinking” for achieving feminist goals. A feminist epistemology, she argues, is best carried out as an ongoing dialogue between thoughtful and mutually respectful friends. But what of women’s experience, of women as makers of knowledge? Here Code runs head-on into Belenky et al.’s well known Women’s Ways of Knowing (1986; co-authored with Blythe McVicker Clinchy, Nancy Rule Goldberger, and Jill Mattuck Tarule), a book imbued with an essentialism that Code carefully avoids throughout her text. Code argues that “in the conceptions of knowledge and of subjectivity it presupposes, Women’s Ways of Knowing is epistemologically and politically more problematic than promising” (253) because it is as asymmetric as the “malestream” epistemology it refutes. In the “S knows that P” terminology, the malestream concentrates too much on P, while Belenky et al. concentrate too much on S–so much so that it’s “not easy to determine what their subjects know” (253). They conflate “subjective knowing” with “subjectivism” and consider subjectivism “a permanent epistemological possibility” (254).

     

    Code considers this to be “radical relativism” where anything goes; she prefers “mitigated relativism,” her phrase for considering knowledge both subjective and objective, not wholly one or the other. Code is more directly critical of Belenky et al. than of any other scholars whose work she uses, since Belenky’s approach resembles her own in critical ways that Code explicitly identifies, e.g., in having an interest in “second personhood,” valuing connectedness and interpersonal behavior, and locating sources of knowledge in human behavior, rather than in subject-object behavior. Code’s analysis is more nuanced, more postmodern (in denying the possibility of a unified self, etc.), and more political in its recognition of Foucauldian knowledge/power links. Code is exploring the uncharted territory between polarities, the power in “mitigated relativism.” Belenky et al. construct knowing as a progress, through stages, toward increasingly more valued “ways of knowing.” Code suggests a different way of using this material, calling these ways of knowing “strategies” or “styles” of knowing, different positions that can be taken, thus making them more useful for theorizing places for political action. Code’s articulation of an ecological model for “Remapping the Epistemic Terrain” (chapter 7) is the most useful part of the book in addressing key issues feminists are currently debating and in defending “ecofeminism” against criticism of the ideal of community. Code begins the chapter with a description of a board game called The Poverty Game, developed by six Canadian women who depend on public assistance. These “welfare women” become a continuing focus (almost a litmus test) for discussing epistemic privilege, how knowledge is circulated (as well as constructed), and how privileged women and men might learn from a dialogic form of epistemology based on an ecological model. For Code, this ecological model proposes a society that is in dynamic balance, like an ecosystem. Such a society would be “community- oriented, ecologically responsible[,] would make participation and mutual concern central values and would structure debates among community members as conversations, not confrontations” (278).

     

    This communal ideal is widespread in women’s spirituality movements today, but has found less support among academics, who are more likely to see only romanticism or idealism in it. Code’s approach to a feminist epistemology reaches out to that ideal in ways that academics can value. She avoids essentializing women’s “nature” by bringing in Teresa de Lauretis’s influential views on “identity politics” and the importance, for feminist projects, of resisting the ideal of a unified self. De Lauretis valorizes “a multiple, shifting, and often self-contradictory identity . . . ; an identity made up of heterogeneous and heteronomous representations of gender, race, and class” Feminist Studies/Critical Studies 9). Code places this dynamic identity in an ecological context, emphasizing fluidity across various boundaries (as in an ecosystem) in creating and acquiring knowledge. In her ecological model, as I read it, people communally and conversationally create knowledge through “dialogic negotiations . . . across hitherto resistant structural boundaries” (309). In this view, thinking itself is “conversational,” and for it to be productive these “conversations have to be open, moving, and resistant to arbitrary closure” (308).

     

    While the ecological model is for me Code’s most appealing metaphor–suggesting friendly “conversation” standing in for such natural processes as rivers flowing and life-cycle processes–the ecosystem metaphor is inexact, or, I should say that Code does not herself elaborate the metaphor as I have done. Further, an ecological model holds within itself a potentially essentializing gesture toward “natural” systems that can easily lead to validating the status quo. Code’s resistance to essentialism is most evident in her critique of texts like Carol Gilligan’s In a Different Voice (1982), Sara Ruddick’s Maternal Thinking (1989), and Belenky et al.’s Women’s Ways of Knowing, to all of which she gives considerable (and perceptive) attention. To achieve the feminist goals Code articulates, what is needed is not a “model” (essentialist or otherwise), but a paradigm shift, a completely different way of thinking about thinking. Gilligan, Ruddick, and Belenky et al. are all, in their own ways, more successful in establishing new paradigms for thinking than is Code.

     

    Where Code will draw most fire from critics (those who do not dismiss her project out of hand) is in the attempt to stake out a middle ground, neither wholly essentialist nor wholly constructionist. “Mitigated relativism” is neither a catchy name nor an easily grasped philosophical position, nor is “middle ground” an obvious position of strength, as Code claims it to be. It is simply the place we are left once dichotomous thinking is recognized as a patriarchally constructed double bind: essentialism demands belief in primacy of difference, the very basis on which women have been oppressed; relativism (there is no external, objective reality, only individual realities) stalls political action, there being no external reality to change. So it is the choice that oppresses, or the belief that one must choose. In opting for middle ground, Code is refusing to make that ultimately oppressive choice.

     

    The choices Code does make are complex and dynamic, challenging and invigorating to anyone willing to enter the dialogic she invites. There is a quicksilver element to the issues raised: feminist epistemology seems capable of rapidly assuming many shapes, of weaving through narrow and twisting passages, of rising and falling in response to atmospheric pressures. But that is my own metaphor. Code’s figurative language emphasizes analytical (“malestream?”) processes. The metaphor of “remapping the epistemic terrain” suggests the feminist epistemologist as a cartographer systematically pacing through a territory of disputed boundaries and recording results to guide others who choose to come that way. My own metaphor of Code’s “drawing fire from critics” reveals my sense of that terrain as dangerous territory, with enemies in every bush and landmines artfully concealed on the path. In making her way through that dangerous terrain that she calls “middle ground,” Code strikes me as both gutsy and careful– and well-armed.

     

  • Belling Helene

    Douglas A. Davis

    Department of English
    Haverford College

    <D_Davis@Hvrford>

     

    Cixous, Helene. “Coming to writing” and other essays. Ed. Deborah Jenson. Trans. Sarah Cornell, Deborah Jenson, Ann Liddle, Susan Sellers. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1991.

     

    We have learned from Freud (who found the lesson hard to keep in mind) that if one would read the unconscious, one must attend to silence as to sound. I come to be writing of Helene Cixous through her writing of “Dora,” the girl who so obsessed Freud in the months after his own writing of The Interpretation of Dreams that she called forth his most (in)famous (counter)transference and thereby enticed Sartre, Lacan, and H.C.–enough distinguished literary and psychoanalytic reinterpreters to fill a curriculum–to retell her-story. In all these re-visions of the young lady it is of course never Ida Bauer who speaks, but “Dora” who is overheard voicing another’s thoughts. Cixous’s take on the nuclear moment in Freud’s 1905 “Fragment of an Analysis of a Case of Hysteria” opens with the good doctor pressing his adolescent patient for the details of the encounter by the lake, where her father’s mistress’s husband may have kissed her, where she may have desired him, may have felt his aroused body, may have slapped his face:

     

     
              Freud's voice (seated, seen from behind)
              "...these events project themselves like a shadow
              in dreams, they often become so clear that we feel
              we can grasp them, but yet they escape
              interpretation, and if we proceed without skill
              and special caution, we cannot know if such a
              scene really took place."
    
              DORA
              (a voice which rips through silence--half
              threatening and half begging--is heard)
                If you dare kiss me, I'll slap you!
                             (becoming more tenderly playful)
                             (all of a sudden, close to his ear)
              FREUD
                Yes, you will tell me in full detail.
                             (voice from afar)
              DORA
                If you want.
                             (voice awakens)
                If you [vous] want.  And after that?
              FREUD
                You will tell me about the incident by the lake,
                in full detail.
              DORA
                Why did I keep silent the first days after the
                incident by the lake?
              FREUD
                To whom do you think you should ask that
                question?
              DORA
                Why did I then suddenly tell my parents about
                it?
              FREUD
                Do you know why?
              DORA
                             (Does not answer but tells this
                              story in a dreamlike voice) 
                As father prepared to leave, I said that I would
              not stay there without him.  Why did I tell my
              mother about the incident so that she would repeat
              it to my father? (Cixous, 1983, 2-3)

     

    Thus Freud, quintessential modern (and arguably the first post-modern) thinker, meets H.C. across the gaps, pauses, and ellipses of “Dora”‘s discourse. And in the glimpses of H.C.’s work of the past fifteen years collected in this slim volume, there are analogous puzzles aplenty for the reader who seeks a personage behind the texts, who would lead Cixous onto a stage and examine her about time, place and person: who did what, and with what, and to whom?

     

    Freud is not present in this collection of six of Cixous’s essays spanning 1976-89, though we imagine him squirming at the “Requiemth Lecture on the Infeminitesimal,” in “Coming to Writing” (35), which parodies his masochistic Lecture 33, on “Femininity.” H.C. shares Freud’s problem in that infamous pseudolecture, viz., to discover by writing her “how a woman develops out of a child with a bisexual disposition” (Freud, 1933, 116); but she has also read his uneasymaking strange tribute to his daughter Anna, “A Child is Being Beaten” (“A Girl Is Being Killed,” 8), and she wants us to understand that the self- mother-loving woman who comes to her writing is

     

    not the "beautiful woman" Uncle Freud speaks of, the beauty in the mirror, the beauty who loves herself so much that no one can ever love her enough, not the queen of beauty. (51)

     

    The avuncular presence of “Coming to Writing” is rather a “capitalist-realist superuncle,” who annually attempts her critical domestication:

     

    The unknown just doesn't sell. Our customers demand simplicity. You're always full of doubles, we can't count on you, there is otherness in your sameness. (33)

     

    The six translations are bookended by fine interpretive pieces by Susan Rubin Suleiman (“Writing Past the Wall, or the Passion according to H.C.”) and Deborah Jensen (“Coming to Reading Helene Cixous”), the latter an effective Baedeker to the terrain covered by Cixous in the fourteen years represented by these pieces.

     

    These essays all treat of love, of passion discovered, created by the act(s) of reading/writing. For Cixous this process is most thoroughly experienced in relation to the Brazilian author Clarice Lispector, who occasions two of the pieces included. The second, “Clarice Lispector: The Approach: Letting Oneself (be) Read (by) Clarice Lispector: The Passion According to C.L.” articulates for H.C. the paradigmatic relationship with an author and her text:

     

    How to "read" Clarice Lispector: In the passion according to C.L.: writing-a-woman. What will we call "reading," when a text overflows all books and comes to meet us, giving itself to be lived? Was heisst lesen? (What is called reading?) (58)

     

    Without Lispector’s own text juxtaposed (H.C. sets a paragraph of C.L.’s Portuguese in her essay, and sprinkles quoted phrases throughout), it is the exuberant love-letter quality of this essay that is paramount, as Cixous is moved to verbigerative wordplay (much of it in German) with Lispector’s name and concepts. The textual courtship of Lispector suffuses the last three essays as well: “The Last Painting or the Portrait of God,” “By the Light of an Apple,” and “The Author in Truth.” Together, these constitute a powerful paean to self-discovery through literature, in which the ego takes on the imagined persona of the beloved writer as mentor. This time-honored process, Cixous show us by contrast, has traditionally been a matter between men, and within a dominant cultural-political context:

     

    If Kafka had been a woman. If Rilke had been a Jewish Brazilian born in the Ukraine. If Rimbaud had been a mother, if he had reached the age of fifty. If Heidegger had been able to stop being German, if he had written the Romance of the Earth. (132)

     

    The other piece included is “Tancredi Continues,” H.C.’s response to Rossini’s opera, featuring Clorinda, “woman singing as a woman pretending to be a man,” of which Susan Rubin Suleiman asks/answers:

     

    Is this poetry? Critical commentary? Autobiography? Ethical reflection? Feminist theory? Yes. (xi)

     

    If this volume is one’s point of entry to Cixous’s writing, biographical questions will echo at each paragraph. H.C. locates her sense of otherness, of “Jewoman,” German-French self-consciousness, in her Algerian childhood. Yet despite a nod to the archangel who gave the Prophet dictation and the people of the Book a new religion (“The attack was imperious: ‘Write!’ Even though I was only a meager anonymous mouse, I knew vividly the awful jolt that galvanizes the prophet, wakened in mid-life by an order from above” [9-10]), no recognizable North African Arab appears on her mental stage, only a glimpse of what might be shadow, as little H.C. lures a remembered little French girl into a corner of Algiers’ Officers’ Park:

     

    I beat up children. The Enemy's little ones. The little pedigreed French. . . . Not a trace of a beggar, not a shadow of a slave, of an Arab, of wretchedness. (CtW 19)

     

    Not of, but in, French North Africa, and, later, France itself, is H.C., an outsider to Freud’s avuncular heterosexism, to the “Sacred Garden of French literature,” to patripolitics generally. She writes of Jerusalem, abode of peace contended by two passionate peoples–Arab and Jew, male and female, West and East –but without telegraphing her political wishes for it/them. Is the new Jerusalem for everyone? Is Cixous’s writing?

     

    H.C.’s fluency in what Lacan pronounced the unconscious Discourse of the Other, the unconscious that speaks the conscious, resounds in these translations. Translating Cixous (like translating Freud) is a special challenge, because puns, cliched French and German usages, klang associations, and alliteration play such a role in her writing. Sarah Cornell, Deborah Jenson, Ann Liddle, and Susan Sellers seem to have met this challenge, giving us a text that often entices and seldom merely puzzles, inviting the reader to speculate over the sound and psychodynamics of H.C.’s original. The footnotes are indispensable, since “from the point of view of the soul’s eye: the eye of a womansoul” (4) is not “du point de vue de l’oeil d’ame. L’oeil dame” (197n). Yet the joyous, erotic, metonymic quality of Cixous’s words survives the change of sound.

     

    Works Cited

     

    • Cixous, Helene. “Portrait of Dora.” Diacritics (1983): 2-32.
    • Freud, Sigmund (1905). Fragment of an Analysis of a Case of Hysteria. Ed. and trans. James J. Strachey, The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud SE), vol 7. London: Hogarth.
    • Freud, Sigmund (1919). “‘A child is being beaten’: A contribution to the study of the origin of sexual perversions.” SE, vol 17, 175-204.
    • Freud, Sigmund (1933). “Femininity.” SE, vol 22, 112-135.
    • Lacan, Jacques [1951]. “Intervention on transference.” Ed. Juliet Mitchell and Janet Rose. Feminine Sexuality. New York: Pantheon Books, 1982.
    • Sartre, Jean-Paul (1959/1984). The Freud scenario. Ed. J.-B Pontalis. Trans. Q. Hoare. Chicago: U Chicago P, 1985.

     

  • White Male Ways of Knowing

    Clifford L. Staples

    Department of Sociology
    University of North Dakota

    <ud153289@ndsuvm1>

     

    hooks, bell. Yearning: Race, Gender and Cultural Politics. Boston: South End, 1990.

     

    About two years ago my friend Mike sent me bell hooks’s review of Spike Lee’s “Do The Right Thing,” which was published in Zeta Magazine.1 Mike’s photocopy budget is even worse than mine, so I figured if he went to the trouble of smuggling these pages out to me then he really wanted me to read them. So I did. I had seen the film prior to reading the review, and, just like hooks’s white male colleagues, I too had “loved it” (10). Her critical review challenged me to rethink my initial response to the film, and got me interested in reading more of her work. So I sent a check to South End Press for copies of Ain’t I a Woman (1981), Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center (1984), Talking Back: Thinking Feminist, Thinking Black (1989), and Yearning: Race, Gender, and Cultural Politics (1990). Here I will focus on Yearning. This book in particular has encouraged me to join with her in interrogating the racism and sexism of postmodern American culture. Yearning consists of twenty-three short essays, including a dialogue with Cornel West on relationships between black men and black women, and a concluding piece in which she playfully interviews herself. Like her review of “Do The Right Thing,” a number of the remaining essays initially appeared elsewhere: in Zeta Magazine, Inscriptions, Art Forum, Sojourner, Framework, Emerge. Pulling these essays together in one volume has undoubtedly made her cultural criticism available to a much larger audience than the few readers of these publications.

     

    The essays cover a lot of territory and are not easily classified. Some chapters (e.g., “Stylish Nihilism,” “Representing Whiteness,” “Counter-Hegemonic Art,” “A Call For Militant Resistance”) might be fairly called film criticism. In several other places (e.g., “Liberation Scenes,” “Postmodern Blackness,” “Culture to Culture,” “Critical Interrogation”) she discusses and evaluates trends in cultural criticism. And then, from another direction (“The Chitlin Circuit,” “Homeplace,” “Sitting at the Feet of the Messenger,” “Aesthetic Inheritances,” “Saving Black Folk Culture”) she remembers and celebrates African-American culture and politics. But one shouldn’t put too much weight on these categories. You are as likely to find autobiographical reflections in the film reviews as in the more properly autobiographical pieces, and references to films, novels, theoretical trends and biographies turn up everywhere. As she writes in the last essay, “There are so many locations in this book, such journeying” (229). Hooks’s excursions erase all boundaries, leave all genres blurred.

     

    For hooks, radical cultural criticism is rooted in a commitment to black liberation struggle. She examines representations of black people and black life in literature and popular culture to understand how such representations enhance and undermine the capacity of African-Americans to determine their own fate. She focuses, in particular, on the ways in which such representations work to either enslave or liberate blacks, reinforce or challenge racism in whites, and sustain or subvert white supremacy. She also remains critical of the ways in which both women’s liberation and black liberation continue to be practiced as if black women did not exist.

     

    OK. What you’ve mostly gotten so far is the dust-jacket perspective of Anyreader–the sort of “view from nowhere” I was taught to write in graduate school. It’s also the kind of “review” I might have written before reading Yearning–before getting my lesson in racial awareness. Hooks won’t let me forget who I am. So, as it turns out, I’m not Anyreader. I’m a white guy.

     

    Many of hooks’s readers are white guys; certainly most of the subscribers to Postmodern Culture are. And have you ever considered the volume of material and cultural capital upon which this discourse rests? To participate in this e-mail discussion one not only has to have a modem, but also a position of some status in or near the state bureaucracy. And you also have to know how to talk the postmodern talk. Hooks knows where postmodern theory comes from and approaches it warily. In “Postmodern Blackness” she writes:

     

    My defense of postmodernism and its relevance to black folks sounded good, but I worried that I lacked conviction, largely because I approach the subject cautiously and with suspicion. Disturbed not so much by the "sense" of postmodernism but by the conventional language used when it is written or talked about and by those who speak it, I find myself on the outside of the discourse looking in. As a discursive practice it is dominated primarily by the voices of white male intellectuals and/or academic elites who speak to and about one another with coded familiarity. Reading and studying their writing to understand postmodernism in its multiple manifestations, I appreciate it but feel little inclination to ally myself with the academic hierarchy and exclusivity pervasive in the movement today. (23-24)

     

    Certainly, many of the essays in Yearning were written for and about black intellectuals. And you often get the feeling hooks would prefer to write primarily for other blacks, particularly black women. Yet, much of what she has to say seems addressed to whites, or at least it’s written with the knowledge that whites are likely to be looking over her shoulder. For example, “Postmodern Blackness,” one of the essays in the book, was published in the first volume of this journal. And Hooks is also on the editorial board. Thus, she may not want to ally herself with me and my fellow white male travellers, but I know she wants us to hear what she has to say.

     

    What she has to say, fundamentally, is that she is a black woman intellectual working in a white male supremacist culture. Her work can be seen as a self-conscious confrontation with, and exploration of, this fact. She constantly positions and repositions herself in relation to this culture and to her specific audience. By pushing positionality to its limits, hooks makes visible the on-going ways in which racism and sexism shapes cultural production–including, reflexively, the writing and reading of her own texts. She forces the white male reader in particular into self-consciousness and self-criticism.

     

    Her stance also raises the question of just exactly what a “review” of her work by me might mean. After thinking it over, I have found myself coming to rest in a problematic place somewhere between criticism and self-criticism. So my “review” is also, of necessity, something of a confession.

     

    From one paragraph to the next, I never know how I’m going to feel reading hooks. One moment I’ll feel angry and frustrated and the next happy and empowered. Sometimes I’m also afraid; there’s always the chance that she’s going to name one more prejudice I’m carrying around with me. Confronting and sorting out these conflicting feelings about race is hard work. Not having to do this work until now, in my late-thirties, says a lot about what it means to be a white male. Hooks, on the other hand, never felt she had choice. For black people, particularly black women, thinking critically about race has always been a matter of survival.

     

    Reading hooks’s critiques of the way black people are portrayed in white culture has forced me to question much of what I knew or thought I knew about African-Americans. It has also made me realize how most of what I know about blacks is manufactured; it does not arise spontaneously out of my day to day experiences with black people.2 This is equally true for me living in North Dakota as it is for my parents living in New Jersey. The black people most white Americans know best are on TV.

     

    By focusing critical attention on the cultural production of blackness, hooks points to the hyperreality of racial politics in postmodern America. On average, white lives and black lives are probably just as segregated today as ever. Now, however, we watch a lot of images of black people on TV and in other media. The presence of such images creates an illusion of familiarity, a kind of simulated integration. Yet few of these images are produced by black people, or challenge stereotypes of black people, and almost all of them are constructed with profit in mind.

     

    It is not simply the case that representations of black people “influence” or “distort” white perceptions. Such a view belongs to a time, no longer with us, when most people recognized and acted as if there were a difference between reality and representations of it. Now, there are few if any white perceptions of black people for mass media to “influence” that are not already the product of mass media.

     

    Of course, as a white American sociologist I have been trafficking in these same commodified images of blackness every day for a number of years now. Whether I’m teaching introductory sociology or a senior seminar in “race, class, and gender,” my white students and I talk about “the black family,” “unemployed black men,” or whomever as if we know what we are talking about– as if black people were speaking instead of being spoken about.

     

    Participating in these conversations has always left me feeling anxious and troubled, but it has been difficult until recently to figure out why. Now I can see that the problem lay in the one-dimensionality of our conversations. Immersed in a white culture that stretches from horizon to horizon, like the snow outside my window, our conversations created only the illusion that we knew black people’s lives. In this respect white sociology and CNN are indistinguishable; in one way or another, it’s just white people talking about black people. And yet, it’s as if we had convinced ourselves that by starting to talk about black people we had somehow stopped talking like white people.

     

    Thus, like many other whites, I have often found myself adrift in a sea of images–signs of “blackness” that have no signifiers; signs that refer only to other signs. Hooks is on to this when she notes how Spike Lee’s film was made mass-marketable to whites by relying on commodified images of blacks:

     

    Practically every character in Do The Right Thing has already been "seen," translated, interpreted, somewhere before, on television, sitcoms, evening news, etc. Even the nationalism expressed in the film or in Lee's interviews has been stripped of its political relevance and given a chi-chi stance as mere cultural preference. (178)

     

    Despite the fact that these commodified images of blackness often “work” with white audiences, I think many whites are deeply dissatisfied with the way we are taught to think about black people. There is a nagging feeling that something isn’t right, isn’t even close to being right. This is the ontological anxiety of the postmodern self–a self shaped by watching representations of experience rather than a self shaped by experience. We are so cut off from the lives of black people that we have no vantage point from which to assess the images of black people created by others.

     

    Hooks finds cause for optimism in the deep dissatisfaction of the postmodern self. In “Postmodern Blackness” she writes:

     

    The overall impact of postmodernism is that many other groups now share with black folks a sense of deep alienation, despair, uncertainty, loss of a sense of grounding even if it is not informed by shared circumstance. Radical postmodernism calls attention to those shared sensibilities which cross the boundaries of class, gender, race, etc., that could be fertile ground for the construction of empathy--ties that would promote recognition of common commitments, and serve as a base for solidarity and coalition. (27)

     

    I wish I could share her optimism. Unfortunately, the insecurity that plagues the postmodern self also makes whites a target for clever marketing strategies that prey upon our ignorance and uncertainty. This, I think, is one reason why so many of us watched “Do The Right Thing” uncritically.

     

    As hooks points out in her review, “Do The Right Thing” was sold to white America as a “radical” film (77). This was going to be an in-your-face slam-dunk film about black people doing black stuff in black ways made by that “bad” black guy Spike Lee. This hype implied that other representations of black life available to white America were inauthentic, thereby constructing Lee’s film as a “true” insider account. And if Lee thought white America would be “uncomfortable” watching his film then, by God, those of us who fancied ourselves multicultural would show him and everyone else we could hang with this film and this militant black. We’d be so comfortable watching “Do The Right Thing” we’d all probably fall asleep. Of course, by default, those whites who shied away from the film, who didn’t get into its aesthetic, or at least didn’t act like they did, could be defined as racist cretins, or worse: unfashionable. Thus, to understand the white response to Lee’s film it is important to realize how whites read white responses to blackness as signs of hipness.

     

    There is more than just a little bit of macho sexism in all of this. As hooks points out, black authenticity is defined in large part by black masculinity. And, in our racist imaginations, black masculinity is all about danger and sexuality. Thus, for white males “loving” Lee’s film is a kind of male-bonding. We may not be able to identify with the “black thing” but we can sure identify with the “male thing.” In this way, white men strive to bond with black men around our supposedly shared interest in sexual exploitation. Our deepest hope is that this connection to black men will deflect their rage away from us and toward someone else–black women, perhaps.

     

    Realizing the danger in the lack of critical response to the film, hooks reminds us that in a world suffused with manufactured images of “blackness,” what is black is not necessarily subversive:

     

    Overwhelmingly positive reception to "Do The Right Thing" highlights the urgent need for more intense, powerful public discussion about racism, the need for a rejuvenated visionary black liberation struggle. Aesthetically and politically, Spike Lee's film has opened another cultural space for dialogue; but it is a space which is not intrinsically counter-hegemonic. Only through progressive radical political practice will it become a location for cultural resistance. (184)

     

    By forcing me to rethink why I liked the film, hooks reminds me how unhappy I am with the way I have learned to think about black people, how my lack of critical response sustains a racist and sexist culture, and how important it is to develop the capacity to make the kind of “critical interventions” she advocates. It is the kind of analysis that is not only rooted in a political commitment to black liberation, and women’s liberation, but is also grounded in an understanding of the nature of postmodern society and the lonely and desperate people who live in it.

     

    Thus, while reading hooks I often feel good, even if at first I get angry and defensive. I feel like I am learning new ways to think about black people, as well as new ways to think about myself. This is empowering. With these new ways of thinking I feel like I have the capacity to resist and undermine the sexist and racist life I’m being asked to live. Take, for example, this passage from “Critical Interrogation”:

     

    One change in direction that would be real cool would be the production of a discourse on race that interrogates whiteness. It would just be so interesting for all those white folks who are giving blacks their take on blackness to let them know what's going on with whiteness. In far too much contemporary writing--though there are some outstanding exceptions--race is always an issue of Otherness that is not white; it is black, brown, yellow, red, purple even. Yet only a persistent, rigorous and informed critique of whiteness could really determine what forces of denial, fear and competition are responsible for creating fundamental gaps between professed political commitment to eradicating racism and the participation in the construction of a discourse on race that perpetuates racial domination. (54)

     

    Reading this passage allowed me to see those class discussions of “social inequality” in a new way. This led me to a deeper understanding of what I was struggling to do and to discover better ways to do it. I began to imagine ways of overcoming the meaninglessness of our discussions of “the black family” by reading commodified images of blackness not as signs of blackness, but as signs of whiteness. We began this discussion by tracing the images of blackness we watch (either in our textbooks or on TV) back to the white men who overwhelmingly control the production of them. Once we did this it was possible to see how our own talk about black people simply built upon these racist stereotypes. Though it is hardly profound, we now respect the distinction between talking about black people and having black people talk to us. This feels like a move in the right direction.

     

    There are times, however, when I sometimes feel betrayed by hooks. These are the times when she seems to want to take back what she has given me. As a result I feel set up, and I find myself not wanting to trust her. It also suggests that she feels at least ambivalent about the postmodern possibilities for empathy and solidarity which she otherwise puts forth as liberating.

     

    Ever mindful of the extent to which contact with white people has meant suffering for blacks, hooks watches whites very closely. To her, my yearning to escape commodified images of black experience–a yearning given shape and direction by reading her work–often seems predatory. In “Radical Black Subjectivity” she writes:

     

    Such appropriation happens again and again. It takes the form of constructing African-American culture as though it exists solely to suggest new aesthetic and political directions white folks might move in. Michele Wallace calls it seeing African-American culture as "the starting point for white self-criticism." (20-21)

     

    Reading this makes me angry and frustrated. I think to myself, “She’s never happy. She anticipates every response to her or to African-American culture and defines it and me as incurably white and essentially racist.” My anger eventually subsides, but the frustration remains, and I find myself gradually slipping back into feelings of powerlessness and despair. What else can I do?

     

    I don’t think African-American culture exists solely for my benefit, but I see no alternative to my reading it, reading her, as a starting point for self-criticism. Hooks has to give us that at least. Flirting with essentialism, as she seems to do here, leads inevitably to a politics of separatism. If whites are racist by nature then we have nothing whatsoever to discuss. I have no choice but to read her self-critically, and if the results look to her like another kind of theft, then that’s a chance I’ll have to take.

     

    It took me awhile to get to this position. In fact, for the reasons discussed above, I almost gave up on this essay. I bet others have also thought about responding to hooks, but abandoned the idea. For example, none of the four reviews I have found of Yearning were written by men. And while I think a lot of other white men ignore hooks because they can, I also think there are a lot of men who might read her work critically, but feel there is no way to respond to her that she has not already foreclosed.

     

    The bottom line, however, is that I don’t think hooks is unreasonable. She is just very demanding. Take, for example, the issue of positionality raised earlier. Initially I was feeling proud of myself that I had stepped out from behind the Anyreader persona to proclaim my status as a “white guy.” Then, going back through Yearning a second or third time, I ran into the following passage in “Critical Interrogation”:

     

    Many scholars, critics, and writers preface their work by stating that they are white, as though mere acknowledgement of this fact were sufficient, as if it conveyed all we need to know of standpoint, motivation, direction. I think back to my graduate school years when many of the feminist professors fiercely resisted the insistence that it was important to examine race and racism. Now many of these very same women are producing scholarship focused on race and gender. What processes enabled their perspectives to shift? Understanding that process is important for the development of solidarity; it can enhance awareness of the epistemological shifts that enable all of us to move in oppositional directions. Yet, none of these women write articles reflecting on their critical process, showing how their attitudes have changed. (54)

     

    As I read this I felt as if she were, once again, trashing a position she had led me to adopt only a few pages ago. I felt this way a number of times reading Yearning. Yet, upon reflection, I could see her point. Acknowledging one’s status is only meaningful as a result of what comes after it. In my case, I came to see this essay as an occasion for self-reflection and analysis. Stating that one is a “white male” won’t, in itself, do that more difficult work. In fact, it might inhibit it to the extent that it serves as a sort of politically correct gesture in the sense hooks means above. This essay may still be such a gesture, but it’s a more meaningful gesture to me than it would have been had hooks not been so insistent.

     

    The kind of self-disclosure hooks is pushing for here is, of course, risky business. Power and status are at the heart of it. Western Academics and intellectuals are reluctant to open up about our own intellectual development because doing so reveals that we have not always been as smart as we’d like others to think; crediting those who have influenced us exposes the social nature of intellectual achievement– evidence that runs counter to our sacred individualism; and admitting that we have been affected by another is also to grant that someone a certain kind of power over us. This latter point is something particularly difficult for men to do; we are supposed to be the movers and shakers, we are not supposed to be moved and shaken–at least not in other than a rigidly defined heterosexual way. Homophobia, sexism, and racism all play apart in determining who it is we are willing to admit to having moved us, depending upon who it is we need to ignore at the time.

     

    On this issue I think hooks herself could be more forthcoming. On the one hand she does write about herself a lot (in Yearning and elsewhere), yet I don’t get a very clear sense of self-transformation from these writings. I understand that she has always been a black woman, but has she always been a militant, feminist, socialist black woman? Very little that she writes would lead one to believe otherwise. Thus, while I was interested and impressed by her description of the way that her family critiqued white representations of black people on TV in the 1950s (3), I was also left with the impression that she has always been as militant as she is now, and that she (among other black women) has always been in the place that everyone else is just now discovering. Maybe these things are true. Even so, by her own admission, even if she is way out ahead of me then it’s important that I understand how she got there. I would like to read more autobiography from hooks that shows the intellectual turning points in her life.

     

    There is another problem. It’s about that business of whites reading other whites’ responses to blackness as signs of hip status. A reader of this essay wondered whether white readers of hooks, such as myself, might fall into the trap of approaching her work uncritically for the same reasons that we watched “Do The Right Thing” uncritically–out of an effort to signify that we were hip to her militant stance. The result being a kind of racist spectacle in which black intellectuals duke it out while whites sit on the sidelines, bet on the outcome, and root for the most radical team around. I mean, if hooks thinks Spike Lee’s work is conservative, then she must really be “bad.” This isn’t hooks’s problem, though she may be implicated in it. As much as she might try at times, she can’t control how she is going to be read and the meaning her work might come to have. The problem is the river of white racism that flows deep and strong through our culture and our lives. At times it’s hard for me to imagine what it might be like to be white and not be racist.

     

    Many of my friends, those on the left in particular, are trashing postmodern theories and theories of postmodernity. They are concerned, and in some cases rightly so, about the political and personal nihilism that seems to surround some postmodernist thinkers. Hooks is critical of the elitist origins of postmodern thinking, but she would rather use it than trash it. Hooks takes from postmodern thinking what newfangled ideas look useful, and at the same time boldly affirms a commitment to such unfashionable notions as “black liberation,” “women’s liberation” and “revolution.” Yes, even revolution. Hooks is committed to that old-fashioned idea that we should be leaving this world a better place than we found it and reads postmodernism with this goal in mind. I read her with the same commitment. No one should fear succumbing to nihilism from reading Yearning.

     

    And despite the obvious problems involved, I want white men and women to read hooks. We won’t find our way through these problems if we don’t confront them, and reading hooks is a good place to start. I found that she pushed me to go beyond my tired and self-serving responses to racial issues. I’m pretty sure reading her work will do the same for others. I’d also like to see a lot more sustained commentary on her work by both blacks and whites. What little that exists is superficial. Wrestling with the issues that hooks raises for white readers will propel us toward ways of responding to black authors that are not racist; ways of responding that move between criticism and self-criticism in an effort to expose, not bury, the problematic nature of reading and writing in black and white.

     

    Notes

     

    1. My thanks to Julie Christianson, Jim English, Janet Rex, and Mike Schwalbe for reading and commenting on an earlier version of this essay.

     

    2. I particularly like this way of describing postmodern culture. I am paraphrasing Dorothy Smith, in The Everyday World As Problematic: Toward a Feminist Sociology (Boston: Northeastern UP), 19.

     

  • The China Difference

    Chris Connery

    Department of Chinese Literature
    University of California-Santa Cruz

    <Chris_Connery@FACULTY.UCSC.edu>

     

    Chow, Rey. Woman and Chinese Modernity: The Politics of Reading Between West and East. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1991.

     

    British Prime Minister John Major went to Beijing in the summer of 1991 to talk with China’s leaders about Hong Kong–duty-free port, international city, and capitalist success story. As 1997 approaches–the year of the colony’s reversion to Chinese sovereignty– fears of total collapse have attenuated as Hong Kong has emerged as the banking and financial center for the growth of export-oriented capitalism and overseas investment in China’s most rapidly developing region– its southeastern coast. Hong Kong’s continuing status as financial and transportation hub for Southeast China will depend on construction of its new airport, and the details of the airport’s financing were the main items on the British PM’s agenda. Since he was the first Western leader to visit post-June 4, 1989 Beijing, though, PM Major also made the obligatory register of “concern” for the Chinese government’s violations of human rights that have continued in the wake of the Tiananmen Square incident.

     

    The airport discussion was concluded to China’s and Britain’s satisfaction. On the matter of human rights, though, PM Major got a stern dressing down from Chinese Prime Minister Li Peng. The British leader, argued Li Peng, was singularly unqualified to comment on China’s treatment of its citizens. Britain had been the major player in imperialist aggression against China, in the Opium Wars (referred to in Britain as the first and second “Anglo-Chinese Wars”), in forcing unequal treaties on China, including extraterritorial rights and privileges for British subjects on Chinese soil, and in the colonial occupation of Hong Kong and adjacent territory. And moreover, added PM Li, Chinese and Western standards for human rights are not the same. The situation was a curious one. Both leaders were intent on maintaining Hong Kong’s status as an international and a Chinese city. Britain’s government has clear economic interest in preserving Hong Kong’s present character as completely as possible, but perhaps has an even larger stake in insisting on its Chineseness, stemming from the fear of the influx of hundreds of thousands of post-1997 refugees–whose legal status is currently “British Dependant Territories citizen”–“back home” to Britain. In admonishing China’s government on human rights, though, PM Major was castigating China for failure to adhere to international, i.e. Western, standards. Beijing in the spring of 1989 was the first counter- revolution to be televised. After Berlin, Bucharest, Prague, and Moscow showed how History should operate, though, China’s exceptionalism–its teleological failure–became more egregious.

     

    In the summer of 1991, local news coverage in Hong Kong was dominated by the massive effort to raise funds for disaster relief in the wake of central China’s disastrous summer flooding and by the upcoming elections to Hong Kong’s legislative council (18 out of 60 seats are chosen by direct election). The capacity of the Hong Kong population to identify and sympathize with the sufferings of the Chinese people was indicated in the enormous success of the fund-raising drive– over six million dollars collected in a few weeks from a population of 3.5 million. (I will refer again to this capacity in a different context below.) The election in September resulted in a decisive defeat of candidates associated with either the Chinese Communist Party or with British colonial authority. The low voter turn-out–under 40%–also belied the colonial government’s claim that “voting is power.” Hong Kong’s citizens, in their rejection of the politics of both the Prime Ministers who met in Beijing, and in their identification with some idea of “Chineseness,” thus enacted the ambiguity of the soon-to-be-ex-colony and international city.

     

    This ambiguity is symptomatic of the ambiguities which surface whenever “China” is enacted in contemporary discursive formations. It is from within this kind of ambiguity that Rey Chow writes. Rey Chow is originally from Hong Kong and is now Professor of Comparative Literature at the University of Minnesota. Her own situation–“a ‘Westernized’ Chinese woman who spent most of her formative years in a British colony and then in the United States” (xv)–informs her writing in the deepest way, a writing whose project is “an attempt to hold onto an experience whose marginality is embedded in the history of imperialism, a history that includes precisely the ‘opening up’ of Chinese history and culture for ‘objective’ and ‘neutral’ academic research that thrives by suppressing its own conditions of possibility” (xvii). She is the only theoretically engaged scholar to have published widely on China in recent years in journals outside the East Asian Studies field, in writings on modern Chinese literature, Chinese and Western film, the Tiananmen Square massacre, and Chinese popular music. Her book is a multiple interrogation: of theory’s resistance to China, of the China field’s resistance to theory, and of the location of “those ethnic peoples whose entry into culture is, precisely because of the history of Western imperialism, already ‘Westernized’” (xi) within the larger critique of Western cultural and discursive hegemony.

     

    Her project is thus allied with much recent work in post-colonial theory and subaltern studies. It raises familiar questions: Whose history is China’s? Who speaks it, and to whom? In what language? Do abstractions like “human rights”–and by analogical extension, Theory in general, posit their own rights of extraterritoriality? Work in cultural studies and post-colonial theory that proceeds from a critique of foundationalism and Western hegemony–political, theoretical, discursive, and subjective–naturally centers largely on particular locations where Western hegemony was and is most conspicuously practiced. This re-turning of theory has been situated in important work on and from Latin America, South Asia, Africa, and in minority cultures in Britain, Europe, and the United States. China, however, is curiously under- represented–in theoretical formations and as a site for application of theoretical constructs. Japan, whose status vis-a-vis the West precludes many of the analogical possibilities present in the areas above, has recently been constructed both in theoretical and popular discourse as a primary site of the postmodern (see, for example, Postmodernism and Japan , edited by Masao Miyoshi and H.D. Harootunian. Durham: Duke University Press, 1989), and thus has a certain discursive prominence. Not so, China. Is this simply because, quoting George Bush, “China is different”?

     

    Edward Said’s Orientalism, which, based on the monumental binarism of West and Other, would seem to brook no geographical limitation, is restricted in scope to “the Anglo-French-American experience of Arabs and Islam” Orientalism 17): it eliminates a large part of the Orient–India, Japan, China, and other sections of the Far East–not because these regions were not important (they obviously have been) but because one could discuss Europe’s experience of the Near Orient, or of Islam, apart from its experience of the Far Orient (17). The shift within this sentence from “Far East” to “Far Orient” underscores the merely practical character of the limitation. It is implied that China could have been in this book had the book been longer. There is, however, a political and strategic character to his limitation of the discussion of the West to Britain, France, and the USA: it seemed inescapably true not only that Britain and France were the pioneer nations in the Orient and in Oriental studies, but that these vanguard positions were held by virtue of the two greatest colonial networks in pre-twentieth-century history; the American Oriental position since World War II has fit–I think, quite self-consciously–in the places excavated by the two earlier European powers (17). The West is thus the colonizing West.

     

    One of the most important critiques of Said’s binarism comes from Homi Bhabha, who faults the monolithic character of colonial power as represented in Orientalism: “There is always, in Said, the suggestion that colonial power is possessed entirely by the colonizer, which is a historical and theoretical simplification” (Bhabha 200). Bhabha’s work, strongly informed, like Rey Chow’s, by psychoanalytic theory, posits a multiplicity of strategies by which colonial discourse is seen as a site of anxiety, slippage, displacement, and conflict. Yet Bhabha, like Said, takes as his object a specifically colonial discourse– a discourse that by its very nature functions concurrently in representation and administration. The Law of the Colonizer is the Law of the Father. Bhabha’s figures of resistance–mimicry, hybridity, and other effects that derive from the psychoanalysis of colonial discourse, are a re-turning of this Law. He is able to accomplish this because the Law functions not simply on the level of a discursive structure, but in the specific practices of colonial administration.

     

    One conceivable location of the “China difference” is in the fact that, with the significant exception of Hong Kong and adjacent territories, China was never a Western colony. (Japanese colonization of China, which began with Taiwan in 1895, is a separate issue.) Western countries had “concessions” and monopoly rights in certain regions, and the British defeat of China in the Opium Wars, left the Qing dynasty government with limited ability to control its tariff and duty structures and other aspects of its economic relations with the West. The unequal treaties forced on China also granted Western missionaries certain inalienable rights to operate without significant governmental interference. But the central functioning of the Law of the Colonizer was not in administration per se, but in extra-territoriality. Extraterritoriality, whereby a foreign national in China was subject only to the law of his/her native country, has the effect of rendering problematic Bhabha’s “repertoire of conflictual positions that constitute the subject in colonial discourse” (204).

     

    The Law of the Colonizer functions within the specific legal practice of colonial administration to underscore the verticality of domination. This vertical structure lends itself quite easily to Bhabha’s psychoanalytic framework. Crude parallels between colonial administrative structures and the psyche–the imperial super-ego and the native id– suggest one framing of the colonial subject’s contested terrain. Extraterritoriality’s positioning of two legal systems side-by-side, however, resists the strict simple verticality of the oppressor and the repressed. The spatializing project implicit in the term “extraterritoriality” effected a displacement of China’s legal and administrative structures into a position alongside the West’s, notwithstanding the structures of domination that marked China’s role in the global capitalist economy. Legally and administratively, China was not a colony, but it was hardly “China” either. “The empire speaks back” is one way of representing post-colonial discourse psychoanalytically as the “return of the repressed”; China’s horizontal displacement, figured in extraterritoriality, allows for a more complete “othering,” one which might help explain the continued absence of China in post-colonial theorizing and the non-allegorizability of China’s modern history.

     

    Extraterritoriality was a central constitutive element of China’s experience of imperialism. The memory of extraterritoriality can help to explain much in recent history, including the Sino-Soviet split in the 1960s, the character of the negotiations over Hong Kong and the future of its political system after 1997, PM Li Peng’s resistance to admonitions about human rights, and government outrage over foreign journalists’ interference in China’s internal affairs during the 1989 student movement. The applicability of “Western” theoretical formulations or “Western feminism” to analyses of Chinese social and cultural formations is a subject of current debate in Chinese studies in China and in the West, and one cannot help but feel the traces of the extraterritorial in that debate as well. Extraterritoriality, marking China’s status as a “semi-colony” (the term used in official PRC historiography) is one potential marking of China’s difference. And with its long history of a literati-dominated elite bureaucratic culture, with its status as the victim primarily of Japanese rather than of Western military aggression in the twentieth century, and as the site of the world’s second major successful communist revolution, China would indeed resist many of the paradigms developed in cultural studies and post-colonial theoretical discourse.

     

    My articulation of these markings of China’s difference, however, is not the same as a claim for a Chinese exceptionalism. Rather, it is an attempt to account for the absence of China in post-colonial theory, which is marked by its origins in the study of specific and localized colonial practices. Chow repeatedly emphasizes the point that Westernization is the materiality of Chinese modernity. The physical experience of modernity, and the terrible brutality that the West’s Othering always implies, is felt by the “semi-colonized” subject as acutely as by the colonized. And as can be demonstrated in the case of Hong Kong, the full experience of colonialism is not at all foreign to many Chinese. The polemical import of Chow’s book, indeed, is targeted far less on the absence of China in theory than on the dangers of proceeding from a positing of China’s exclusivity.

     

    Chow’s project here is the predicament of a Chinese subjectivity whose entry into culture is always already Westernized. She explores this in readings of modern literature, and in her conception of the figure of the “ethnic spectator,” a position central to the book’s argument, and one to whose significance I will return later. The Westernized Chinese subject, though, is not only the content of the book, but Chow herself. Her analytical and political project is always presenced in large part as the enactment of that particular subject position. In a brilliant dialectical reading of theories of masochism, which she sees as constitutive of the Chinese reading of modernity, she traces the structure of masochism from Freud’s accordance of ontological primacy to sadism over masochism, through Laplanche’s revision which situates sadism as always belatedly constructed within masochism, to Deleuze’s location of masochism in the preoedipal, ideal fusion with the mother, and finally uses Laplanche again, on Deleuze this time, to free the mother from her Deleuzian immobility and construct her as passive and active simultaneously, while remaining within the Deleuzian maternally operated framework. Chow’s figuration of masochism has topical application in her discussion of literary tropes of sentimentality and self-sacrifice. But it also is an enactment of resistance to the denial of the complexity of Chinese subjectivity.

     

    For Chow’s entry into academic culture is, by virtue of her subject matter, also determined by the institutional character of China studies, which has its own particular set of discursive characteristics and its own historical and ideological determinations. Although her work on psychoanalysis, film theory, “woman,” and subjectivity has much to offer any audience, many in the China field will ask, “But why do you use Western theories to explain China?” Chow’s justifiable antagonism toward nearly all aspects of China studies in the West permeates her book.

     

    One target is Sinology, the location of classicists who combine their adherence both to the philological rigor of late nineteenth and early twentieth-century Orientalists and to the conservative textual-verification practices of late Qing dynasty philologists with an Orientalist love for dynastic China and a concomitant disdain for China’s fallen, impure, modern state. Sinology, with its fetishization of “Chineseness,” conspires to deny the materiality of modern China, which, since “Westernized,” cannot be “Chinese.” As an example of this Chow cites the late James J.Y. Liu, who, in Chinese Theories of Literature, refuses to discuss modern literary theory since it has been “dominated by one sort of Western influence or another . . . and [does] not possess the same kind of value and interest as do traditional Chinese theories, which constitute a largely independent source of critical ideas” (Chow 29). Sinologists, self-designated conservators of a vanished great tradition, have an investment in their very marginality, a marginality they try to enforce in their concerted attacks on any incursions of Theory into their domain. Sinology’s ideological character, however, is becoming more and more clear. Although I never cease to be amazed at the readiness of many younger scholars of classical Chinese literature to reproduce Sinology’s hoary ideologies and prejudices, job vacancies in Chinese literature in American Universities have shifted in favor of modern literature in recent years, while many classically trained younger scholars, particularly those who are more engaged with theory, have branched out into modern literary or cultural studies. What has significantly altered the study of pre-modern China in recent years, though, particularly in the field of history, has been social science methodology. Demographic, economic, and data-driven social history are the latest transformative “advances” in the pre-modern field.

     

    The hegemony of social sciences in the China field, particularly in studies of modern China, is another instance for Chow of Western discursive dominance. Social science’s domination of the field is evident in the most material ways–in publications like the Journal of Asian Studies, in research and conference funding, and in the preponderance of social science at annual meetings of the Association for Asian Studies. Social science’s “cognitive hegemony of information” serves to colonize all of modern China. This is even witnessed in most studies of modern literature, which is read primarily for its “information,” and thus for its instrumental value. The second chapter of Chow’s book, “Mandarin Ducks and Butterflies: An Exercise in Popular Readings,” is a revisionist account of late Imperial and early Republican melodramatic fiction, which, along with translations from Western literature, was the most popular literature of its time. It is part of an important re-reading of the whole project of modern fiction, which I will discuss further below. Part of her project is to recuperate the study of “Butterfly literature” from its earlier Western defenders, who saw in it “unmediated access to the views of the non-elite” (quoted in Chow, 48). This sociological approach to popular fiction is condemned as imperialistic, because in an apparently well-intentioned attempt to salvage canonically obscure materials, the historian seems only to have neutralized those materials for the extension of that empire called “knowledge,” which is forever elaborated with different “national” differences. This means that the specificities of a complex cultural form would always be domesticated as merely “useful” by a method that claims to be scientifically objective simply because it is backed up by “factual” data (48- 49). The colonization of modern Chinese literature by valorizations of “knowledge” and instrumentality is particularly lamentable, because it is only through a consideration of language and representation that instrumentality can be problematized.

     

    Another critique within the China field of the hegemony of Western discourse can be found in the decentering of Western feminism and the concomitant positioning of a “Chinese feminism” conceptualized around a notion of female identity rooted in Chinese culture. Chow cites a Western scholar who, in her work on the modern female author Ding Ling, disparages Ding Ling’s earlier fiction’s concerns with a bourgeois, Westernized feminism centered on issues of sexuality, in favor of later work, marked more clearly by nationalist and revolutionary goals and privileging a more “Chinese” feminism centered on political sisterhood and kinship. The danger here is of course that any positioning of the category “Chinese women” as a site of political agency will preclude the emergence of women on their own terms. The repression of the sexual, which is as analyzable in Ding Ling’s later work as in her earlier overt treatments, has the same consequences as the de-privileging of psychoanalysis as a tool for the analysis of Chinese modernity: “a non-West that is deprived of fantasy, desires, and contradictory emotions” (xiii).

     

    Chow’s multiple interventions in the West’s discursive construction of “China” or “Chineseness” serve to problematize “China” as a determinable category, and show the consequences of “the China difference,” which, whether posited from a nostalgic margin, an area of nationally defined “knowledge,” or a progressive-minded though essentializing critique of Western discursive hegemony, is always reducible to a gesture of denial. Those in the West who defend China against the assault of “Western theory” are inveighing against theory’s extraterritoriality. Within the curious logic of extraterritoriality, however, to invoke it is to inscribe it.

     

    By titling her book “Woman…” rather than “Chinese women,” Chow is already signaling her rejection of other totalizing categories. It is in this figure of Woman that her book’s most productive and enabling interventions lie. That Chow is talking about “woman” not as a category but as a strategic constitution of subjectivity is evident in her first chapter’s lengthy analysis of Bertolucci’s film, The Last Emperor, whose subject is the “feminized” emperor Pu Yi. In a re-working of Laura Mulvey’s classic essay, “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema,” Chow extend[s] the interpretation of image-as-woman to image-as-feminized space, which can be occupied by a main character, Pu Yi, as much as by a woman. Once this is done, “femininity” as a category is freed up to include fictional constructs that may not be “women” but that occupy a passive position in regard to the controlling symbolic (18). Bertolucci’s feminizing gaze accords with his “love” for Chinese civilization, a love based on a positing of absolute difference. For Bertolucci, the Chinese people exist “before consumerism, before something that happened in the West” (quoted in Chow, 4). Bertolucci’s admiration for “Chinese passivity” partakes of the same allochronism. Chinese are passive because, being so intelligent and sophisticated by nature, they have no need for macho virility. In this context of her discussion of Bertolucci, Chow also demonstrates how Julia Kristeva, in About Chinese Women, otherizes and feminizes China in the service of her challenge to Western metaphysics. It would be inappropriate, however, to condemn Bertolucci and Kristeva for their mere sympathetic Orientalism. Kristeva’s China, an instrument in a critique of the West, is thus subsumed under the West in an instancing of the power relationship her project purports to condemn.

     

    Chow operates from the notion of gender as the structuring of relations of power. The discursive prominence of the figure of “woman” in Chinese modernist writings, a modernity whose materiality is Westernization, is thus no surprise. Yu Dafu’s “Sinking,” published in 1921, was one of the most popular short stories of the decade. Its hero, an alienated, Romantic aesthete studying in Japan, mourns for weak, humiliated, distant China “like a husband mourning the death of a young wife” (quoted in Chow, 141). Impotent with Japanese women, ashamed of his voyeurism and masturbation, the hero longs for a self-strengthening through a strong China. Chow identifies the hero’s masochistic nationalism as being implicated in an ever-shifting array of psychic positionings. “China” is the mother to whose strength the hero would like to submit, but is also identified as object of desire, and thus with the actual women in whose presence our hero is impotent. The idealization of woman in Yu Dafu’s story is “at once active, passive, longing, and resentful–also at once masculine, feminized, and infantile” (144).

     

    Chow’s consideration of Yu Dafu’s story in her book’s final chapter, “Loving Women: Masochism, Fantasy, and the Idealization of the Mother,” is one of three readings of stories by male writers who share an idealist yearning for fusion with the mother, but in resorting to varied strategies of disavowal or dissociation, enact the masculinist fetishization project which divides woman into the familial and revered or the exciting and degraded. The cogency of this structure of masochism and fetishization is supported by the notion of feminine self-sacrifice, which is also the major support of “traditional” Chinese culture. This masculine idealism, then, though finding affecting representations in the figures of women–society’s most oppressed–is both a reading and a re-enactment of the primacy of female self-sacrifice. In readings of two female authors, Bing Xin and Ding Ling, Chow sees, through Kaja Silverman’s elaboration of the negative Oedipus complex, a way to position a masochistic identification with the mother similar to Yu Dafu’s, but without the idealism. In reading the stories themselves, a reader, unless she has a taste for bourgeois sentimental excess, would find Chow’s claim somewhat extravagant. It is precisely the ideological character of “great” literature, though, that is deconstructed through Chow’s readings of these two writers, whose personal and social limits are precisely what give rise to their sentimental excesses.

     

    Part of Chow’s re-reading of Bing Xin’s and Ding Ling’s stories is predicated on her positioning of reading. The phrase “loving women,” from her chapter title, is understood, through this positioning of a feminized reading, as a means to apprehend the complexities of identification and desire that center on the social demand for women’s self-sacrifice; but it also presents the possibility for an alternative aesthetic that is based on a sympathetic feminine interlocutor/spectator/reader (169). It is ultimately on the enabling and subjectivity-constitutive politics of reading and spectatorship that Chow’s project is centered. These politics are implicated in the objects of her analysis and in the enactment of subjectivity which her analysis performs. They are developed most fully in the book’s first chapter, “Seeing Modern China: Toward a Theory of Ethnic Spectatorship.” Should her book gain the wide audience outside the China field which it deserves, it will probably be due in large part to her elaboration of the theory of ethnic spectatorship.

     

    The Westernized ethnic subject’s “givenness” is constituted in her position in world history and in her entry into “culture.” Writing of The Last Emperor, but in a language applicable to all of Chow’s readings, she states the problematic of analyzing The Last Emperor for a Chinese audience; the question is how “history” should be reintroduced materially, as a specific way of reading–not reading “reality” as such but cultural artifacts such as film and narratives. The task involves not only the formalist analysis of the producing apparatus. It also involves re- materializing such formalist analysis with a pregazing–the “givenness” of subjectivity–that has always already begun (19). The Last Emperor was tremendously popular among Chinese audiences. It might be tempting to attribute this popularity to a false consciousness. The global political economy of the entertainment industry is such that only with Hollywood’s backing can such lavish spectacles be produced. The popularity of The Last Emperor among Chinese audiences could then be read as another instancing of domination–of the power of the spectacle to authorize an othering in which even the “others” are passively complicit. Yet just as Teresa de Lauretis challenged Mulvey’s dichotomizing of the masculine gaze and feminine spectacle through her elaboration of female spectatorship, Chow similarly problematizes the Chinese reception of The Last Emperor.

     

    Her argument for an ethnic spectatorship draws largely on Teresa de Lauretis’s Alice Doesn’t: Feminism, Semiotics, Cinema. It retains the strategic value of Mulvey, and draws on a particularly Althusserian reading of Kaja Silverman’s notion of “suture.” It is an argument far too complex to be adequately summarizable, but its contours can be indicated in Chow’s analysis of her mother’s reaction to The Last Emperor: “It is remarkable that a foreign devil should be able to make a film like this about China. I’d say, he did a good job!” (24). Chow’s mother identifies unproblematically with the film’s narrative movement (recalling de Lauretis’s positioning of woman as the figure of narrative movement) even while she, in the phrase “foreign devil,” resists the structures of domination that frame its production. Her play of illusion, which, according to de Lauretis, enables spectatorship to serve as a site for productive relationships, is the site of “a desire to be there, in the film” (25), in all of Imperial China’s resplendent glory, in the unrecoverable state prior to dismemberment. The imaginary nationalism with which Chow’s mother identifies with Bertolucci’s spectacle is the very condition of the always belatedly recognized subjectivity of the Westernized Chinese subject.

     

    In her discussion of ethnic spectatorship, Chow refers to the critic C.T. Hsia’s characterization of modern Chinese literature’s “obsession with China.” For Hsia, until recently the single most prominent scholar of Chinese fiction in the West, this is a marking of its parochialness. For Chow, it is the very result of “the experience of ‘dismemberment’ (or ‘castration’) [which] can be used to describe what we commonly refer to as ‘Westernization’ or ‘modernization’” (26). Chow’s reading of modern Chinese literature through the figure of “woman,” and her attention to the empowering potential of the ethnic spectator, leads to a major re-casting of modern Chinese literary history. The May Fourth Movement, the student-led protest in 1919 against Japanese Imperialism and the Chinese government’s collaborationism, which shortly afterward came to stand for a vast array of socially and culturally progressive reform movements, is the defining monument of Chinese literary modernity. This view is universal in Chinese studies, and is held equally strongly in Hong Kong, Chinese, Taiwanese, and Western academies.

     

    China’s modernist canon, though, was very much a programmatic affair. It was fashioned throughout the twenties in literary societies, of which there were hundreds, in manifestoes prescribing form, content, voice, grammar, person . . . , in seemingly endless debates. Chow reads representatives of the modernist canon–Ba Jin, Lu Xun, and Mao Dun–through Butterfly literature, which she recuperates through the strategic operation of the figure of “woman.” Butterfly literature is the repressed of modern Chinese literature, for a variety of reasons. Its melodrama and overt sentimentality, and consequent huge popularity, relegate it to the uncanonizable. As a genre that, in language, content, and style has significant continuities with “pre-modern” popular fiction, it threatens the rigid break between “modern” and “pre-modern” that was the basis of the May Fourth modernizers’ self-conception and on which China studies’ division of labor depends. Chow demonstrates through several representative readings that Butterfly literature indeed constituted a “reading” of Chinese modern society and ideologies. Butterfly literature’s fragmentary and parodic character–its wild improbabilities of plot, its near contemporaneous salaciousness and moral didacticism, are read by critics as signs of its inferiority: Within the hierarchy of Chinese letters, Butterfly literature thus occupies a feminized position that carries with it the ironies of all feminized positions. While in its debased form it reveals the limits of the society that produces it, it is at the same time devalued by that society as false and deluded…. The visible “crudities” of Butterfly literature constitute a space in which the parodic function of literature is not smoothed away but instead serves to reveal the contradictions of modern Chinese society in a disturbingly “distasteful” manner (55).

     

    Although she finds in the reading practices opened up by Butterfly literature an empowering critique, the more self-avowedly critical and reformist May Fourth writers, precisely through their overt self- positioning, offer the reader more limited possibilities. She demonstrates convincingly how two central platforms of May Fourth literature–its nationalism and the new nation’s requirements of a national literature–served in to establish a continuity between May Fourth writers and the classical literati elite. The performance of a national literature was in a sense a structural replacement for the imperial examination system, which gave classical scholars their ruling positions. The “nation” did not have the same problematics for classical literati as it did for modern intellectuals, though. Always constructed in the belated context of Westernization, where a modern nation was seen as requiring a modern literature, and where a modern literature depended on access to the “real,” and where the “real” was programmatically located in “inner life” (hence the profusion of autobiographical and confessional forms), May Fourth literature always came up against the uncommensurability of subject and nation. How can writing both determine membership in the literati class and serve the revolution? Writing itself is thus always ironic, and the deconstruction to which it lends itself also invites deconstruction of its potential for subversion.

     

    The most relentless self-deconstructions in the May Fourth canon are found in the short stories of Lu Xun. In his stories there are no intellectual heroes; there are no proletarians or peasants who think in the language of educated Chinese. There is a constant presencing of the complicity with social injustice that is implicit in both the practice of representation and the position of the spectator. For Chow, this ironic horizon marks the intellectual impasse of all of May Fourth writing, though in no other writer is it recognized so explicitly. Her re-writing of modern literary history, where the failures and closures of May Fourth writers are judged in part against the strategic possibilities opened up to the reader of popular melodrama, is an important enabling tactic. I wonder, though, how Chow would read Lu Xun’s activities during the last few years of his life, after a decisive move to the left and a total commitment to the proletarianization of literature, a move which led to his canonization in the PRC.

     

    One aspect of China conspicuously absent in Chow’s book is the 1949 revolution. Since one could view this revolution as one of twentieth-century Western hegemony’s most resounding defeats, it is an absence not without significance. I understand that it is under the Western banner of “revolutionary China” that China’s “difference” continues to be positioned in some quarters, and am sympathetic with Chow’s analysis which shows how that particular positing of China’s exclusivity replays old patterns of domination and denial. Her book is an extremely important attack on the destructiveness inherent in that othering, which not only structures “China studies” in the West, but which was the material condition of Chow’s own upbringing in colonial Hong Kong. But while Chow was being educated in Hong Kong in the late 1960s, many of her coevals across the border in China were throwing their teachers out of windows, burning books, setting up schools for peasants in the remote countryside, and dying for their faith in the revolution. It is important not to deny her experience, but neither should we deny theirs. If Westernization is the materiality of Chinese modernity, of what is revolution the materiality? It might be interesting to follow Chow’s recuperation of Butterfly literature, the most popular literature of China’s early twentieth-century modernity, with a recuperative exploration of the psychic life of the most poplular cultural productions of the late 1960s–revolutionary operas like The Red Detachment of Women, The White-Haired Girl, or Taking Tiger Mountain by Strategy.

     

    It was indeed within the context of China’s modernization in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries that categories like “China,” “the nation,” “the West,” and “woman” become problematized for the first time. This period is also the point at which China studies in the West divides China into “modern” and “pre-modern,” with the consequences Chow documents so forcefully. Chow’s book centers on that moment and its particular consequences, and I am not faulting her for failure of coverage. I cannot help feeling, though, that the revolution’s absence marks a particular strategic choice. Her reading of Butterfly literature, a sophisticated and empowering reading, resonates with the tendency in many current studies of the productive possibilities inherent in the reception of popular culture to locate a capacity for resistance-in-givenness in popular strategies of appropriation of mass culture. Here in the New World Order, perhaps one should be grateful for resistance where one can find it. It is the smallness of this resistance’s social scale, though, that leaves me sometimes pessimistic. Is revolution really unimaginable after Tiananmen Square, Eastern Europe, and 1991 Moscow? Given the state of many of the West’s Others, I hope not. Events in China over the last fifteen years should not cause us to forget China’s revolution, for the 1949 revolution was not just a marking of the China difference. It was also the hope of a global possibility.

     

    Works Cited

     

    • Bhabha, Homi. “Difference, Discrimination, and the Discourse of Colonialism.” The Politics of Theory. Ed. Francis Barker, et al. Colchester: U of Essex P, 1983.
    • Said, Edward. Orientalism. New York: Pantheon, 1978.

     

  • BOOK REVIEW OF: Past The Last Post

    Roger Berger

    Department of English
    Witchita State University

    <Berger@twsuvm>

     

    Adam, Ian, and Helen Tiffin, eds. Past the Last Post: Theorizing Post-Colonialism and Post-Modernism. Calgary: U Calgary P, 1990.

     

    In a recent review in Transition 53 of Patrick Brantlinger’s Crusoe’s Footprints: Cultural Studies in Britain and America, Benita Parry distinguishes two methodologies–the post-colonial and the post-modern –that currently dominate literary and cultural theorization. On one side, she asserts, are those who recognize that texts are “involved necessarily in the making of cultural meanings which are always, finally, political meanings,” but who insist that “culture does not (cannot) transcend the material forces and relations of production” and that texts are “inseparable from the conditions of their production and reception in history”; on the other side are those who (in Stuart Hall’s phrase) would want to expand the territorial claims of the discursive infinitely, and therefore privilege textual strategems as in and of themselves the location of gathering points for solidarity.1 It is difficult to accept–and many of the essays in the volume under review here consider this fundamental problem–that a connection can be made between these two “posts.”

     

    To a degree, of course, terminological imprecision makes difficult such a project. Post-modernism, for instance, has been variously troped as “hyperreal,” “excremental,” “inflationary,” “wilfully contradictory,” skeptical of all metanarratives yet located in a “perpetual present”–the contradictory nature of which seems to define the post-modern itself. Post-modernism is simultaneously (or variously) a textual practice (often oppositional, sometimes not), a subcultural style or fashion, a definition of western, postindustrial culture (Gibson’s “the matrix”), and the emergent or always already dominant global culture. At the same time, post-colonialism is simultaneously (or variously) a geographical site, an existential condition, a political reality, a textual practice, and the emergent or dominant global culture (or counter-culture). For me, the post-colonial and the post-modern can be heuristically understood as metonyms for larger, irreconcilable positions, as Parry suggests. On the one side, there is a limit to textuality–call it Raymond Williams’s sense of “lived” experience; on the other, an infinite textuality, Derrida’s “there is nothing outside the text,” in which subjectivity is a textual matter–pain and oppression merely tropes. The question thus is clear: is there any formal or political relationship between post- modernism and post-colonialism or is post-modernism yet once more instance of colonization–a contemporary moment of western textual imperialism? That is, what does, say, the collapse of critical space between the western media spectacle and the production of a post-modern subjectivity have to do with the the lived realities of oppression in the dominated world–with the lack of health care, food, electricity, education and an abundance of western appropriation of labor, raw materials, and imposition of a cultural imperialism?

     

    In Past the Last Post: Theorizing Post-Colonialism and Post-modernism,” Ian Adam and Helen Tiffin assemble an impressive, international cadre of theorists who offer daring and inventive (though on occasion irrelevant or incomprehensible) responses to these questions. These essays, as Helen Tiffin suggests in her introduction, “seek to characterise post-modernist and post-colonial discourses in relation to each other, and to chart their intersecting and diverging trajectories” (vii). To that end, the anthology succeeds brilliantly: it articulates in many of the essays resonant homologies that suggest the possibility of a strategic alliance between post-modern and post-colonial discursive strategies.

     

    Yet, after completing this inaugural volume addressing these two salient cultural and literary theories, I am left with a sense of the forced and even–from a political perspective–counter-productive nature of the project. That is, this volume, much like another project that attempts to reconcile earlier manifestations of the post-colonial and the post-modern, Michael Ryan’s interesting though often plodding Marxism and Deconstruction: A Critical Articulation, expends massive amounts of critical energy with little to offer for ongoing oppositional and post-colonial struggles. In many of the essays, theorists admit the problematic nature of the project–the fundamental incompatibility of post-modernist textuality and the lived realities of the post-colonial (or really, neo-colonial) experience. At the same time, however, most of the essays assert that useful parallels between post-colonialism and post-modernism can be identified. Various images are deployed to suggest this: “conjunctions of concern” (Hutcheon), “a working alliance” (Huggan), “a rapprochement” (Carusi), “contamination” (Brydon), and so on between oppositional discursive strategies–and they thus derive their conclusions from the pragmatic political principle that “the enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Without a doubt, many oppositional features of post-modernism resemble those of post-colonialism. However, my sense–at least at the current historical moment–is that while many of the parallel elements have theoretical valence, the telos of each project is so fundamentally different that the parallels are accidental rather than significant. As Diana Brydon suggests, at the end of the collection, in something of a “minority” report, “When directed against the Western canon, post-modernist techniques of intertextuality, parody, and literary borrowing may appear radical and even potentially revolutionary. When directed against native myths and stories, these same techniques would seem to repeat the imperialist history of plunder and theft” (195-196). Ultimately, it must be noted, post-modernism would seem to need post-colonialism far more than post-colonialism needs post-modernism; and thus, once again, after another “treaty,” the West (rather than its Others) ends up with far more in the exchange.

     

    The intellectual heart of this project in this anthology may be located in three essays–Stephen Slemon’s “Modernism’s Last Post,” Ian Adam’s “Breaking the Chain: Anti-Saussurean Resistance in Birney, Carey and C.S. Pierce,” and Linda Hutcheon’s “‘Circling the Downspout of Empire’”–which are strategically positioned near the beginning, middle and end of the collection. Slemon argues, for example, that the “disidentificatory reiteration across the various national post-colonial literatures” (4)–that is, the post-colonial “rewriting the canonical ‘master texts’ of Europe” (4) and tropic appropriation of Eurocentric history (e.g., in the “plagiarizing” strategems of Yambo Oulogeum)–strongly resembles Linda Hutcheon’s notion of a post-modern “intertextual parody.” He does admit to some fundamental problems with the connection between post-modernism and post- colonialism–among them the tendency of “Western post-modernist readings” to “so overvalue the anti-referential or deconstructive energetics of post-colonial texts that they efface the important recuperative work that is also going on within them” (7) and “the universalizing, assimilative impulse . . . of post-modernism” that appears to continue “a politics of colonialist control” (9). However, Slemon ends his essay with a hopeful vision: in post-modernism’s contradictory need to appropriate and exclude post-colonialism, “there could perhaps reside a fissuring energy which could lay the foundation for a radical change of tenor within the post-modern debate” (9). Slemon’s mixed metaphor here could perhaps be understood as a post-modern ironic discursive strategy, but it seems to reveal, as I shall presently suggest, the fundamental irreconcilability of post-modernism and post-colonialism. Linda Hutcheon, similarly, in “‘Circling the Downspout of Empire,’” points out the “considerable overlap” in the “concerns” of post-colonialism and post-modernism (168). The deployment of “magic realism,” subversions of Eurocentric master narratives (historical and literary), and, above all, the strategic use of “irony as a doubled or split discourse” (170) constitute points of convergence. I need to say that these attempts to contribute to a poetics of resistance literature–what Chidi Amuta in A Theory of African Literature terms a “poetics of the oppressed”–without question offer imperatives for examining this collection.

     

    Localized applications of this theory may be found in Simon Gikandi’s excellent “Narration in the Post-Colonial Moment: Merle Hodge’s Crick Crack Monkey” and Annamaria Carusi’s interesting “Post, Post and Post. Or, Where is South African Literature in All This?” These essays argue that that post-colonial literature often finds in formal (post-modern) strategies a means of rupturing the discourse of imperialism. Gikandi asserts that while many Caribbean women writers–often excluded from the canon of West Indian literatures–would seem to oppose the project of post-modernism, nevertheless “they increasingly fall back on post-modernist narrative strategies–such as temporal fragmentation, intertextuality, parody and doubling” (14)–to contest both the imperial narrative and the modernist impulses of male Caribbean writers. To that end, Gikandi explains, Merle Hodge’s Crick Crack Monkey both recovers a voice of difference long suppressed by the colonial planatation society and combines the creative aspects of “creole and colonial cultures as opposed sites of cultural production” (19). Carusi argues that both poststructuralism and resistance literature–at least within the oppressive context of apartheid South Africa–have encountered limits of theoretical achievement: poststructuralism with its “affirmation of difference as pure negativity” (103) cannot sever its discursive connection with Western textuality, while the South African literature of liberation privileges a dead-end humanist subject, discursively sutured into an imperialist subjectivity. She sees a way out of this paralyzing aporia in a “radical heterogeneity” (of the Foucauldian variety) that permits political agency without reinstalling “positivity” and abandoning difference. Carusi ultimately seeks “a rapprochement” between post-modernism and post-colonialism in which the subject–what she terms “a discursive instance”–is “embedded in a socio-historical configuration” (104). “The heterogeneity,” she writes, would thus be a difference that does make a difference, but it is not, for all that, a difference that can or should be named. The Other, theorized from a post-structuralist perspective (and at present time we have no viable alternative), is irretrievable, unlocatable, refractory and by definition unnameable; it is not there as a positivity, but as an effect. (104)

     

    Yet it is precisely at points such as this one that a very real political anxiety about the theoretical aims of post-modernism manifests itself. Indeed, these theorists–apprehensive about re-enacting the epistemic violence and ethnographic appropriation accompanying the colonial project– appear inordinately defensive about the connection between post-coloniality and post-modernity. Consider, for example, Annamaria Carusi’s rejection of a political critique concerning the irrelevancies of a theoretical intervention in the post-colonial:

     

    There are many who will point out that what I have said, and what anything theory may say to the struggle against apartheid, has nothing to do with people living in the squatter camps, or under detention without trial. This argument, arising from the political urgency of opposition, is however, specious.(105)

     

    To support her position, Carusi (equally speciously) offers Foucault’s notion of the circularity of power, but earlier she asserts “the central position of cultural production in the attainment” by “colonized or subjugated people [of] an identity and . . . self- determination” (96). It is difficult, however, to reconcile her privileging at this moment a post-colonial identity with her later insistence on the impossibility of naming a post-colonial subjectivity. Even more telling, of course, is Carusi’s too quick dismissal of what seems an inconvenient political critique. As Diana Brydon points out, “Literature cannot be confused with social action” (196). Or at least post-modern literature cannot be understood as exemplifying by itself a fundamental threat to the hegemony of apartheid. Carusi indeed suggests that in South Africa “almost every other path [other than the cultural] of resistance and reconstruction is criminalized” (96). Even given its racist pathology, the criminal apartheid state understands difference between real and meaningless threats to its power.

     

    A related political problem concerns Slemon’s relocation of post-colonialism in the West, as part of Western discourse, as he writes:

     

    The concept [post-colonialism] proves most useful not when it is used synonymously with a post-independence historical period in once-colonized nations but rather when it locates a specifically anti- or post-colonial discursive purchase in culture, one which begins in the moment that colonial power inscribes itself onto the body and space of its Others and which continues as an often occulted tradition into the modern theatre of neo-colonialist international relations. (3)

     

    Slemon, who in many ways is not wholly sympathetic with the project of post-modernity, nonetheless conveniently redefines post-colonialism not as an actual, locatable activity but as a Western discursive practice. Agency is given wholly over to the colonizers who initiate in essence not only the colonial project but also the post-colonial one. All too often in this collection post-colonialism is understood in Western terms, perhaps unintentionally incorporating into an entirely Western drama the everyday struggles of dominated people to free themselves.

     

    The best–most daring and oppositional–essay in the collection is Hena Maes-Jelinek’s “‘Numinous Proportions’: Wilson Harris’s Alternative to All Posts.” Harris, Maes-Jelinek suggests, rejects for the most part both post-colonial and post-modern practice –the first for its adoption of a realistic textuality, the second for its nihilistic construction of textuality. Harris imagines, according to Maes-Jelinek, an affirmative, cross-cultural (emphatically not multi-cultural) “web of space,” a site of creative engagement with the past, colonialism and language, a site not of difference but of convergence. Harris’s project thus invents a third way rather than effecting any kind of synthesis between post-colonialism and post-modernism.

     

    In addition, any review of this collection must acknowledge the compelling, though (in terms of the stated project of this anthology) misplaced, essays by Simon During and John Frow. During’s “Waiting for the Post: Some Relations Between Modernity, Colonization, and Writing” and Frow’s misnamed “What Was Post- Modernism?” both attempt to open a theoretical space in which a discussion of the interrelationship between post-colonialism and post-modernism might be initiated, but ultimately their essays would seem better located in a discussion of modernism and colonialism.

     

    In the “final” analysis, it is difficult to know if this collection represents a milestone or a tombstone (a postmortem) for the project. Knowing the tendency of the Western academy to appropriate any form of knowledge or human agency–especially in Said’s sense of travelling theory: to remove a revolutionary, disruptive theory from its historical context and thus domesticate it–one would expect any number of future volumes of this sort. Yet I think that the very considerable analytical skills of these theorists would be better deployed on behalf of the post-colonial project, making use of whatever theoretical strategies (post-modern or otherwise) that seem helpful in the ongoing struggle against domination and neo-colonialism. (Tiffin’s work, in conjunction with Bill Ashcroft and Gareth Griffiths in The Empire Writes Back [London: Routledge, 1989], seems much more a model in this regard.)

     

    As world history enters into a new and perhaps decisive moment of the colonial encounter, it is imperative that culture workers–particularly those positioned in what Mary Louise Pratt terms the “contact zones” (most of the writers in this collection are located in post-colonial settler colonies: Canada, South Africa, Australia)–clearly align themselves with the wretched of the Earth. Given John Frow’s astute description of the fundamental changes marking modernization and late capitalism (hyperflexible capital being pursued by mass migrations of poor people, as well as the insidious effects of such a situation: totalized mapping of the globe, state intervention on behalf of capital, massive urbanization, the triumph of instrumental reason, and the “secularization and automatization of the spheres of science, art and morality” (140), we need public intellectuals willing to challenge what appears to be heretofore unimaginable domination and human exploitation. Past the Last Post, for all its valuable contributions to a poetics of post-colonial literature, doesn’t appear fully to participate in this great challenge. As Fanon concludes his great anti-colonial manifesto, The Wretched of the Earth,

     

    [I]f we want humanity to advance a step further, if we want to bring it up to a different level than that which Europe has shown it, then we must invent and we must make discoveries. If we wish to live up to our peoples' expectations, we must seek the response elsewhere than in Europe. Moreover, if we wish to reply to the expectations of the people of Europe, it is no good sending them back a reflection, even an ideal reflection, of their society and their thought with which from time to time they feel immeasurably sickened. For Europe, for ourselves, and for humanity, comrades, we must turn over a new leaf, we must work out new concepts, and try to set afoot a new man. (315-316)

    Note

     

    1. 44. Parry is not alone in describing the fault lines that have manifested themselves in contemporary political and textual theory: one might also look to Simon During’s important work, “Postmodernism or Postcolonialism” or “Postmodernism or Post-colonialism Today,” Henry Louis Gates’s “Critical Fanonism,” Anthony Appiah’s “Is the Post- in Postmodernism the Post- in Postcolonial?”, Benita Parry’s own “Problems in Current Theories of Colonial Discourse” or my own “The Return of Fanon: Recent Anglophone Literary Theory” for further elucidation of this current battle of the books.