Eating at Gayatri's

1. This symposium was originally framed as a discussion of the utility or coherence of John Holbo's concept of "Higher Eclecticism", a concept that has, on the one hand, been favourably received by those who are suspicious of "Theory", that is, how "Continental philosophy" gets deployed, primarily, in literature and humanities departments and, on the other hand, rather skeptically by those, such as myself, who are inclined to see this concept as unintentionally operating in the context of the "Cultural Wars" -- that is, an attempt by certain political forces to close avenues of discussion, especially those that have attracted the attention of 'Continental philosophers' and their supporters in the United States.  Thus, in a sense, the debate is overdetermined: any questioning of "Theory" is bound to be interpreted as a contribution to the "Cultural Wars" and, thus, political rather than intellectual in orientation.

I'd like to frame my discussion with a passage from a philosopher currently in favour by those who are persuaded by 'Continental philosophy' and who is equally unfavoured by those who are persuaded by 'analytical philosophy'.  No, I don't mean Derrida.  Rather, I mean Benedict de Spinoza:

But I have devoted enough time to this.  The other notions, too, are nothing but modes of imagining whereby the imagination is affected in various ways, and yet the ignorant consider them as important attributes of things because they believe -- as I have said -- that all things were made on their behalf, and they call a thing's nature good or bad, healthy or rotten and corrupt, according to its effect on them.  For instance, if the motion communicated to our nervous system by objects presented through our eyes is conducive to our feeling of well-being, the objects which are its cause are said to be beautiful, while the objects which provoke a contrary motion are called ugly.  Those things that we sense throught the nose are called fragrant or fetid, through the tongue sweet or bitter, tasty or tasteless, those that we sense by touch are called hard or soft, rough or smooth, and so on.  Finally, those that we sense through our ears are said to give forth noise, sound, or harmony, the last of which has driven men to such madness that they used to believe that even God delights in harmony.  There are philosophers who have convinced themselves that the motions of the heavens give rise to harmony.  All this goes to show that everyone's judgment is a function of the disposition of his brain, or rather, that he mistakes for reality the way his imagination is affected.  Hence it is no wonder -- as we should note in passing -- that we find so many controversies arising among men, resulting finally in scepticism.  For although human bodies agree in many respects, there are very many differences, and so one man thinks good what another thinks bad; what to one man is well-order, to another is confused; what to one is pleasing, to another is displeasing, and so forth (Ethics, Part I, Appendix).

2. Recently I attended a 'graduate student conference' -- that is, a 'conference' put on by graduate students for graduate students.  In addition to the three dozen or so graduate students in attendance, there were three or four faculty members.  A poor turn-out on their part, I must say.  (One notes, however, that the faculty who turned up were the ones who disproportionately carried weight in the department: in terms of teaching courses, supervising students, and having an active research program.)  Readers might wonder why I put 'conference' in scare-quotes.  The reason -- and I hope to make this relevant to Spivak soon enough -- is that the 'conference' was organized to emphasize discussion over presentation.  Thus, a panel of two people would have no more than ten or fifteen minutes total of presentation and the rest of the hour would be discussion.

During one presentation, which was more or less concerned with epistemology, the question was raised as to how to select a method proper to your research topic.  Positions, of course, varied -- there is one true method, count things, do interviews, run off to the archives, etc.  The most exciting moment in all of this was when a woman, who teaches qualitative methods, said something to the effect of, "This is all silly.  This is exactly what grounded theory is -- the theory emerges from the data."  An angry young male graduate student contributed the correct, yet surprising, rejoinder from across the room, "You're naive!".

Order was shortly restored when the senior representative of the eclectic, Alan Hunt, who 'wants to get Marx into bed with Foucault' said something to the effect of, "Well, you choose what is appropriate."  To a large extent, I couldn't disagree: this made some sense.  If you're interested in the symbolic constitution of The Terror, you don't write up a survey and do some multiple regressions!

Nonetheless, I had a problem: "Alan, exactly what work is 'appropriate' doing here?  Isn't it just a placeholder for the discussion as a whole?"  I went on to say something to the effect of, "Well, say you go to the grocery store, and you really like oranges, cabbages, prime rib steak, Hungry Man frozen dinners, mint chocolate chip ice cream, and chili in a can.  You don't buy all of your favorites, go home, put them in a large pot and start boiling.  You'll get something really disgusting."

His reply, of course, was, "Well, that isn't an appropriate recipe."

3. This brings us, then, to Spivak.  Dominic, in his contribution, refers Eagleton's assement of Spivak as a consumer in the 'supermarket of ideas'.  Dominic glosses Eagleton's assesment in a helpful way: Spivak is "cooking with an incompossible mélange of ingredients."  Following the metaphor of food and taste, we might wonder if academic method and style is also, largely, a matter of taste. Or, perhaps, as the question was raised on The Valve, a matter of aesthetics.

If it is a matter of taste, to whose taste is one obliged to orient oneself?  Should one prepare a pleasing meal for oneself, or should one prepare a pleasing meal for one's guests -- invited or unexpected included?  That is, is Spivak required to cook mushy peas for Eagleton?  Or a pig's head for Belle?

How refined is the taste?   The taste, that is, of the cook and guests alike?  Are we to aim, like Jim the teenager, to make a really great "Extra Value Meal" at McDonald's?  Or are we to aim, like Gordon Ramsay, to make a really great foie gras?  But, what of those of us who have ethical objections to these meals?  On one hand, that the agricultural and economic practices necessary to sustain the "Extra Value Meal" just aren't worth it?  Or, on another hand, that eating goose liver is just something that the idle rich could ever think of?  Or, on yet another hand, that the mere eating of flesh is wrong?  In Eagleton's 'supermarket of ideas,' how do we balance competing aesthetic, intellectual and ethical tastes as they relate to the production of knowledge?

But, enough about the chef.  What about the guest?  Is the guest required to eat a meal they don't like?  Which invitations can the guest decline?  Is the guest obliged to enjoy themself?  What does the invited guest owe to the hostess?