Long Sunday

So all this really does exist

It was Marx's 188th birthday yesterday, as s0metim3s, carlos rojas, and Steven Shaviro, among others, note.  I hope to write up something apropos before long. 

But it is Freud's today.  And old Sigismund would be 150 were he still alive, which is quite a milestone by anybody's standards.

Moreover, I have returned to thinking about ruins, one of Freud's many obsessions.  Freud took a keen interest in archaeology, and his home in Hampstead was filled with a collection of over 2,000 curios that had been excavated from the Ancient World: no wonder the London Freud Museum should comment that, surrounded by his antiquities, Freud "worked in a museum of his own creation".  (See also The Vienna Freud Museum.)

As the museum further indicates, these curios were prized for more than their aesthetic value alone.  Freud believed they told something of the truth of pyschoanalysis and its theories of the unconscious:

One example of this is Freud's explanation to a patient that conscious material "wears away" while what is unconscious is relatively unchanging: "I illustrated my remarks by pointing to the antique objects about my room. They were, in fact, I said, only objects found in a tomb, and their burial had been their preservation."

Freud often compared the unconscious to buried ruins, and the task of the analyst to that of the archaeologist, uncovering ever deeper strata for the prizes hidden in the depths, clues to the ways of life only dimly discerned from mere surface inspection.

But in a late essay, Freud turns this metaphor on its head.  In "A Disturbance of Memory on the Acropolis," ruins stand for what is clearly in view, in front of the analyst's face.  And the issue here is why what is so straightforwardly visible, uncompromisingly material, should be strangely denied or disavowed.

For Shame

The World Socialist website includes today a report on a North Carolina man, Harry Taylor, who confronted Bush during one of his recent events. Taylor

expressed the hope that the president had the “the humility and the grace” to be ashamed of himself “inside” himself.

Joan Copjec's discussion of shame in the new collection, Lacan: The Silent Partners provides an valuable counterpoint to Taylor's remarks.

The Echo of the Subject

I've been looking around for an online version of Lacoue-Labarthe's essay, "The Echo of the Subject," in Typography:  Mimesis, Philosophy, Politics.  It would be a useful and provocative starting-place, I think, to assist in weaving certain themes together.  But maybe, in the end, it's better not to blog about such things, or at such length as would be necessary.  I'll settle for quoting just the very beginning, to give a taste.  (Let it be said that I'm not at all sure this is a great idea, however.  Maybe it's still a good idea, if it encourages some people to read further, or at the very least:  "it's pretty bad but nothing terrible.")

Paxless in Americana

It's a match made in heaven.  One wonders if they know each other?  A commenter on the latter, one "Big Billy" asks a good question:

What if a pair of opposing hypocrits (where one says one thing and doesw [sic] the other, and the other says the other and does the one thing) team up? As a human, I find it impossible to constantly avoid hypocrasy [sic], so why not pair up and embrace out hypocritical natures, and then we can really progress, right? My partner will do my work for me while I do his work for him. We will both get our jobs done while approaching more exagerated extremes.
But then again, we're probably better off if you just call me an idiot too.

In this our quest, for the ultimate blog brevity I then leave it to you, dear eater, to draw your own excursions.  For it is a black and white world, with the Author sitting f'evern top (ever'n especially whilst claiming the bottom!) and we was only ever kiddin', once Hugh challenged e to a duel. 

A duel, e says!  At dawn, no less.  E dunno, somehow "be offended, but say so" just don't 'ave the same ring to it.    An' sometimes it be da fools who call idiots, "idiots" best.

Unknown Knowns

"In February 2002, U.S. Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld engaged in a bit of amateur philosophizing about the relationship between the known and the unknown: "There are known knowns; there are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns; that is to say we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns-the ones we don't know we don't know." For Rumsfeld, these "unknown unknowns" represent the greatest threats facing the United States. But Rumsfeld forgot to add the crucial fourth term: the unknown knowns, things we don't know that we know-which is precisely the Freudian unconscious, the "knowledge which doesn't know itself," as the French psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan used to say. In many ways, these unknown knowns, the disavowed beliefs and suppositions we are not even aware of adhering to, may pose an even greater threat." Zizek, Iraq's False Promises

Can psychoanalysis think biopolitics?

What might a psychoanalytic approach to biopolitics look like?

In her contribution to Reading Seminar XX, Suzanne Barnard considers the way that an object missing from its proper position appears outs of place, as an enjoying substance or organ without boundaries, that is with no internal relation to its organism. This organ without a body, then, contrasts with the disciplined Oedipal body, the body produced through the inscription of proper zones for libidinal pleasure, the body capable of work and pleasure, the restricted, desiring body. In contemporary communicative capitalism, this bodiless organ can become a site of enjoyment, can take the form of objet petite a, circulating and swarming and providing little sites of enjoyment that take the place of and remind us of enjoyment's lack. Sure, they are fun! But, they aren't the Real Thing. At any rate, it is against this background of teaming organs, of excessive little a's floating around, that our efforts at community, alliance, and, yes, violence, segregation, and elimination take place.

What psychoanalysis contributes, then, to biopolitics, is a sense of unproductive, undisciplined bodies spotted by enjoyment. It suggests a biopolitics counter to the productive, desiring biopolitical multitude of Hardt and Negri. The roving (Rove-ing) organs are opportunities of attachment to waste and spectacle, to moments of enjoyment that extend not to productive, loving, new, contestatory or alternative community but to subjected, consumerist, hate-filled confirmations of fear.

But at least they feel good.

Necessary Fictions?

From here (via PTDR):

Since ancient times, writers such as Desperate Housewives creator Marc Cherry have satirised hypocrisy, snobbery and pretension but they have never succeeded in eradicating these things, nor have they removed shame, guilt and derision from our emotional vocabulary. Instead they provide a kind of psychic safety valve for our own seemingly innate need for acceptance and respect.

According to the social theorist Slavo Zizek, being part of a civilised society necessarily involves deceiving others about your true self, or at least paying lip service to some higher ideal of human behaviour. The veneer of civilisation is just that, he argues, a convenient cover for our baser natures: "I'm sorry, but hypocrisy is the basis of civilisation. Rituals and appearances do matter.

If you drop the appearances and go to the thing itself, it's sometimes pretty horrible."

I'm no f&cking Buddhist, says Bjork & Zizek

Link: Revenge of Global Finance, by Slavoj Zizek.

I like this article from Zizek. Watching the stupid film I turned after Yoda's 'let go of everything' speech to someone or rather, and said to a friend: "fucking Buddhist". I like the "fucking" here, for it in itself announces a passionate dislike - itself an attachment, and one I refuse to let go of despite seeing my amigos one by one succumbing to the true Dark side. In this very attachment I announce my desire for the Other, my desire to refuse this capitalist supplement of meditating after a hard day's work. Instead I have a Guinness and blog (pardon the self-referentiality at this exact moment).

But I'm a copycat here: Bjork said it first, no doubt because many confused her as such.
"I’m no fucking buddhist, but this is enlightenment" (from "Alarm Call").

Zizek's `most interesting' point, I think, is that the reason the Revenge of the Sith seemed so bland, so narratively inferior, is because Anakin's transformation into Darth Vader was not, as it should have been, because he became Evil precisely because of his zealousness to battle Evil, but simply because he was weak-willed. Boring, especially if Lucas really wanted to make a political point... (though I'd say Bush's handlers are Evil from the get-go, not that they are perverted in their very quest for `rooting out' Evil - or if so, they were perverted a long, long time ago...). Anyway, this explains why it lacked "the proper tragic grandeur... Anakin should have become a monster out of his very excessive attachment with seeing Evil everywhere and fighting it".

ADDENDUM (for those not familiar with Zizek's understanding of Christianity, i.e., for those who aren't aware that he is, in fact, an atheist):

Part of the logic in the background of this article is that to be an atheist (as Zizek is), one must pass through the Christian experience.

Christianity is the only religion where God dies. When Christ dies on the Cross, God dies too. God only remains, then, through the faith of Christians (in the Holy Spirit, the community of believers). Obviously, then, Christians are likely to waver in their faith. This can lead to extreme violence towards others in the desperate attempt to `shore up' one's wavering faith.

It can also lead to atheism. We can only be atheist because of Christianity. If we just reject the Christian legacy tout court, we are only presupposing a dumb pagan or Buddhist God from which we cannot find a path to atheism.

There is, then, nothing more regressive than denying `our' Christian legacy.

(Of course, if you get this confused with the neocon agenda, I shall have to bonk you over the head.)

Public? Yes, please!

What is a public?  Jodi Dean lucidly suggests that since calls for the 'public' are voiced, well, in a pre-existing public, such calls are mostly political interventions for a certain kind of public, i.e., one more amenable to one's own orientation.  We might say, then, that these calls for a public are disengenuous, not actually concerned with achieving a true public.  (One can obviously place in this context Republican calls for a less `liberal biased' PBS.)

What, then, is a true public?  Is it the pre-existing public that allows for various factions to fight within it for their particular definition of a public?  The set that exists before the battle to hegemonize its definition and practice?  Does a true public only pre-exist the hegemonizing of the set through the rise of the master-signifier?

Or can we say that, only with the right master-signifier, the right political order, the true public actually comes into being? 

A true public is one without pigeon-holing, where one doesn't automatically place oneself in five seconds of speech.  It's one where you don't know what I am going to say next.  It's where I am not merely offering pre-digested soundbites.  Most of the blogosphere then has nothing to do with this true public; partisan hackery is but more TV (which is precisely why the TV networks can so easily report on this sector of the blogosphere), as are the endless ruminations on what one fed one's cat today.

The true public goes beyond your surprise at my words, my positioning.  I must be surprised myself.  As in the decisive act that overwhelms you, that preempts one's understanding of one's own actions, here I must myself be surprised by what comes from my `pen'.  Only after the fact, upon the establishment of a new order, can I come to understand what I have done.

But then the question is: does the new order in fact get created here, in this part of the blogosphere?  What could that mean?  No, yes, maybe new orders are constantly being tested.  We're playing at being vanishing mediators.  But playing with an enormous sense of responsibility, for the Other.  So maybe, then, Long Sunday is both the `true public' before the hegemonization of the very term 'public', and the Just `public' after the right hegemonization. 

Having it both ways?  Ah, the life of a vanishing mediator...

Zizek writes, in a sort of parallel:

The "political" dimension is... doubly inscribed: it is a moment of the social Whole, one among its sub-systems, and the very terrain in which the fate of the Whole is decided - in which the new Pact is designed and concluded.  (For they know not what they do, 193)