An AI-generated image based on the writing below. Another case (see here and here) of Andrew Sullivan lying about Trans* desire.
Today, I ended my paid subscription to Andrew Sullivan’s The Weekly Dish. I did so because his anti-Trans* click-and rage-baiting is evil.
I. What Pragmatic Liberalism Means for Trans Rights
Politically, I describe myself as a pragmatic liberal. By pragmatic, I generally mean that I think our politics should be attuned to what we human beings can and want to do to make our lives better. When politics refers more narrowly to a campaign to win electoral votes, I think pragmatism means championing progressive values that most Americans support.
That’s very good news! But there is less fortunate news in this same poll.
In a recent clump of words about Trans* desire, Sullivan rightly points out that support for Trans* freedom has narrowed. According to Demsas’s poll, most Americans now support legislation to make use of public restrooms and participation in sports dependent on one’s birth sex and banning safe and reasonable healthcare that supports a minor’s desire to transition from one sex and/or gender to the other.
What this means pragmatically is that the next Democratic nominee for President should focus their campaign on ending discrimination against Trans* people in employment and housing.
Focus is not the same thing as “selling out.”
If Trans* rights and freedoms are important to you, then yes — winning elections is everything. That requires focusing on what the American public is willing to support.
Think about it: Can a Democrat veto legislation limiting the rights of supportive parents of Trans* children if they don’t win enough electoral votes to become President? Obviously, no.
Pragmatism, however, is not always about what is “true.” It is almost always about what works for a person or group of people. And this is where the liberal in my self-description as a pragmatic liberal comes in.
By liberal, I mean, to echo John Rawls, a form of political power based on reason and reasons that may, at least in principle, be accepted by all citizens as justification for a particular action. By reason, Rawls means “public reason” or “political reason,” and such reason excludes metaphysics or other “comprehensive doctrines.”
Religious reason, for example, is, in its own way, reasonable, but it is not a form of public reason. It is not public or political reason, reason all citizens are, in principle, capable of exercising because all the information we need to assess to make the case for some kind of action is not commonly available.
So, a Democratic candidate can make a pragmatic and reasonable case for making it illegal to discriminate against Trans* people in the workplace and in housing. Again, that is very good news!
II. Where Sullivan Gets It Right — and Where I Think He Lies
Sullivan makes a few pragmatic and reasonable points in his post.
As I noted above, support for Trans* freedom has narrowed. Sullivan is absolutely right about that. Sullivan is right about a second thing, too: “the real world keeps intervening.”
“Readers keep telling me to shut up about this topic,” Sullivan writes. “I’ve lost some good friends. . . . [M]y social life has shrunk.” The real world is rejecting Sullivan’s unreasonable, unconscious fantasy of Trans* desire as justification for political action.
The real world is telling Sullivan it is unpersuaded by his fantasy of gay kids being forced to transition by evil, greedy doctors. Furthermore, it rejects the idea that because a majority of Americans support legislation banning Trans* discrimination in the workplace and in housing, Trans* people “already have [those protections].”
The real world, moreover, thinks it is unreasonable to ignore Trans* people. Pace Sullivan: “And so what sacred trans people say they want [Sullivan is opposed to sacralizing minorities, by which he seems to mean taking what minorities want for their own lives seriously] . . . is all that matters” (emphasis original).
What Trans* people are asking their fellow citizens to do is to listen honestly and openly to their testimonies. And it is in this context that Sullivan makes a third good point: some Trans* stories are not pretty.
III. The Fantasy of ‘Mike’ and the Real World
In his recent post, Sullivan describes a tragic figure named “Mike.” “Mike” represents Sullivan’s most potent fantasy: that of Trans* terrorists — doctors, parents, therapists — destroying (“castrating”) the lives of genuinely gay male kids.
My contention is not that “Mike” doesn’t regret transitioning, but rather that his regret does not establish that he was forced into transitioning. Frankly, Sullivan is, on this point, lying to us. There is simply no reasonable evidence that “Mike” was forced into or thoughtlessly and recklessly offered Trans* healthcare.
Surely, some people regret transitioning. I really feel for them. I am interested in hearing the facts of their cases.
Yet their stories do not amount to a reasonable basis for public policy decisions, because they are not representative cases. In fact, it is Sullivan who does “Mike” a great disservice by misleading the public about the facts of his specific case.
Of course, Sullivan is free to live in his own fantasy. But his picture of Trans* desire is simply not politically reasonable. It betrays the evidence that any of us can assess with our eyes and ears, provided that we have eyes to see and ears to hear as citizens.
Unfortunately, Sullivan is committed to the same mind-snapped-shut mentality that he attributes to his opponents.
Speaking of his opponents, Sullivan describes the structure of their brains as “a bunch of synapses.” This may be his way of calling them “bird-brained.” The epithet is rooted in ignorance. Bird brains are, if you will, bunches of synapses, and birds are extremely intelligent.
Close-mindedness, however, is something found in both stupid and smart people.
I think the only thing that will open Sullivan’s mind is another real-world intervention: a significant drop in his paid subscribers. If you have a paid subscription to The Weekly Dish, I humbly ask you to consider unsubscribing. Unsubscribing is even easier than subscribing.
I. Adam Aleksic and the Algorithm That Doesn’t Care About You
Adam Aleksic demystifies “the algorithm” in his well-written and spirited book, Algospeak.
Algologos—discourse about the algorithm—typically takes two forms. typically takes two forms. The first is that the algorithm controls you. The second is that the algorithm is you.
Aleksic offers a much more complex view of the digital world’s algorithmic rhythms. Reading his algorithmic prose, I realized: the algorithm doesn’t care about you.
II. The algorithm is the audience.
“Influencers” don’t care about you either. The algorithm is their audience.
Entering TikTok, for example, is like stepping into your imam’s or therapist’s office. If you want to be heard, you need to use the relevant spiritual terminology or share the details of your recent dream.
Some members of the digital religions or therapies (TikTok, Instagram, X) become “influencers” because they speak the language of the algorithm exceptionally well. That is how they get what they want: not you, virality.
III. Influencer. Wants a secret lover.
According to Aleksic, Reddit once published its algorithm. It looked like this:
Translation: a Reddit post’s popularity does not determine its chances of going viral. Aleksic notes that “the only variables were u, the number of upvotes minus the number of downvotes, and a, the age of the post. Whatever the output was (here represented by s) determined how high a post would rank relative to other posts” (59).
Nowadays, the relevant algorithm is unpublished; it is kept secret in the vault of “proprietary information.” Nonetheless, the algorithm remains the enforcer of any one platform’s “creative direction.”
The only way to discover its contours is to give it what it wants. Influencers, as lovers of the algorithm, are our best sources for understanding the law(s) of the algorithm.
IV. Influencers obey (the algorithm).
Aleksic shares what influencers like him have learned about algospeak or speech “driven by the invisible forces behind social media and its algorithms” (7). What follows are what I take from Aleksic’s book to be the “laws” of algospeak:
Law 1. The line between offline and online is very blurry.Online communities are clearly formed by people who exist offline. Over time, these communities develop their own in-group language. Some words, like “unalive,” emerge in unique offline settings. Words like unalive and gyat are popularized by being taken up and disseminated to the farthest reaches of the online world by the algorithm. Finally, these words return to the offline world—but now as common language.
Law 2. The boundaries between social media platforms are also very porous.Viral TikTok videos, for example, often appear on Instagram, YouTube, and other platforms.
Law 3. Algorithmic power is productive. The algorithm normalizes its grammar by establishing a zone of exclusion. The word “unalive” is a perfect example of productive algorithmic power.
The word unalive originated offline. It became TikTok algospeak because the platform banned certain “sensitive words,” including, it seems, speech about killing, death, and suicide.
Unalive was used by TikTok users to bypass the censoring algorithm, allowing them to discuss political violence or mental illness. The word has become very popular among middle school students in the U.S. Its offline use is the subject of ongoing controversy.
Using evasive language (e.g., referring to Trump as “cheeto”) is called “Voldemorting.” The use of evasive language happens across languages (see chapter 8 of Algospeak).
Bowdlerization is another technique used to bypass censorship. “The practice of respelling offensive [words] is a centuries-old tradition known as bowdlerization,” writes Aleksic, “named for the Englishman Thomas Bowdler, who is mainly remembered for publishing some egregiously family-safe edits of William Shakespeare’s plays” (17-18).
See words like “seggs” (sex), fuk, fucc, f*ck, fk (fuck), a@@, ahh, gyat (ass, butt), and f*aggot.
See also evasive art/emojis like 💅🏻 (for “zesty” or gay), 🥷🏾 (for the n-word), 🍉 (for Palestine), 🍆 (for dick), 🍑 (for ass and pussy), and, just for a trending moment, 🪑—but more commonly, 💀(for laughing [to death]).
Law 4. The algorithm favors what is most likely to boost user engagement.To go viral, you must show the value of your post or its ability to capture users’ attention, earn their likes, stimulate comments, and keep them on the platform as long as possible.
There are several ways to prove your post’s worth and get past the algorithmic gatekeeper to achieve viral fame.
Your post is likely to be recommended if it (a) “complies” with current language trends (including using English with a proper accent, like a British accent), (b) is neither too short nor too long, (c) uses trending keywords (gyat, rizzler, sigma), often words created to bypass language restrictions (unalive and seggs), (d) piggybacks on other trending posts (e.g., making fun of viral trends or including a viral musical track in your video) and even if your post is completely unrelated to the trend, (e) evokes strong emotions (passion, anger, sadness) or curiosity, (f) is extreme(ly weird), and (g) features fast-paced talk or noise.
It’s too good, perplexing, and funny not to mention a specific example of criteria (c) above, the “Rizzler song.” Aleksic notes that the “Rizzler song” is a “TikTok audio that went massively viral in late 2023 for its slang-heavy lyrics: Sticking out your gyat for the rizzler / You’re so skibidi / You’re so fanum tax / I just wanna be your sigma / Freaking come here / Give me your ohio” (44).
The “Rizzler song” is one example of what is called “brain rot.” Here is another one, a jumble of “keywords.”
“Social media platforms reward using keywords,” Aleksic writes, “because they want the information: Metadata can be turned into index terms that are easier for the algorithm to categorize, and thus know what to recommend to viewers.”
Aleksic admits that “[c]reators want their content to be discoverable, so they mold it around what the algorithm wants. Keywords are a win-win” (46, emphasis added).
Law 5. Morality is not a variable of the algorithm. As Aleksic points out, evasive language is often trending. In their specific contexts, evasive words, memes, and videos are created to help users communicate their experiences of social oppression. When taken out of their original contexts, the same language can be used to spread social oppression.
Aleksic argues that Poe’s law explains the spread of dangerous incel ideology online. Poe’s law is
[a]ny sarcastic expression of extreme views can be mistaken for a sincere expression of those views, and vice versa. Poe’s law explains how dangerous ideas spread as memes. . . . [It] has created a dangerous game of hopscotch. We’re jumping between irony and reality, but we’re not always sure where those lines are. Interpreting words comedically helps the algorithm spread them as memes and trends, but then interpreting them seriously manifests their negative effects (138-139).
Memes spread because they blur the line between serious and unserious. They also show which group(s) are more often socially labeled as unserious.
Consider the now popular word, gyat. “The word ‘gyat,’” Aleksic writes, “reached social media as a funny word for ‘butt,’ but it actually comes from an exaggerated [African American English] pronunciation of ‘goddamn. . .’” (153). The word’s origins and purpose got lost or erased as it was pushed by the algorithm.
According to Aleksic,
Studies have shown that non-Black people are disproportionately likely to use reaction GIFs and images containing Black people, because they find those memes funnier. If you’ve ever been sent the “Crying Michael Jordan” or “Michael Jackson Eating Popcorn,” those subtly play into racial stereotypes by using Black reactions as an exaggerated response. This phenomenon is called digital blackface, and it’s very present in the social media age (155, emphasis original).
See law 1 above: the offline is always-already online (and vice versa). Popularity is the same ole normal.
V. The algorithm is designed to kill you.
One lesson you can learn from the above“laws” is that the algorithm is designed to kill you.
Aleksic notes that “social media algorithms are best at recommending personalized videos when we give them information. Since that translates to social media success, we create metadata simply because the algorithm wants metadata in order to push our content to others” (164).
The algorithm polices content. Influencers supply compliant content. You watch it, and like it, and like it, and like it—and sometimes comment on it. The algorithm pushes and pushes and pushes more like content for you to like. The platform profits.
Aleksic explains it this way: “Algorithms are the culprits, influencers are the accomplices, language is the weapon, and you, dear reader, are the victim” (78).
As if under the spell of the White Witch (remember The Chronicles of Narnia?), you, dear reader, consume the abundant images provided by the algorithm until you collapse under the weight of your own skin.
You “unalive” yourself with social media satisfaction.
VI. The algorithm is designed to kill you with happiness.
Happiness is deadly. The “AI” of The Matrixunderstood, according to Mr. Smith, that humans require frustration to advance, to stay alive.
In Civilization and Its Discontents, the founder of psychoanalysis, Sigmund Freud, makes a similar point. “The price we pay for our advanced civilization,” Freud states, “is a loss of happiness through the heightening of a sense of guilt” (Standard Edition, 21:134). Misery or frustration is an inherent component of our advancement.
The online world, like the offline homes we confine ourselves in to avoid “stranger danger,” eliminates frustration. It does so by always giving us more of what (we tell it) we want.
The price we pay for online satisfaction is a glut of happiness. The algorithm’s acidic power achieves this.
The algorithm burns away all flesh, anything that may disturb you and dislodge you from, say, TikTok. The following offline example perfectly mirrors the corrosive power of algorithmic laws, amply illustrating the cost of your virtual happiness.
In R.A.V. v. City of St. Paul (1992), a case Judith Butler discusses in Excitable Speech (1997), the Supreme Court ruled that banning cross-burning was unconstitutional. The case involved a white man burning a cross on a Black family’s front yard.
Butler notes that the Court justified its decision by ignoring the fact that the cross was burned on a Black family’s property. “The stripping of blackness and family from the figure of the complainant . . . refuses the dimension of social power,” Butler writes, “that constructs the so-called speaker [i.e., cross burner] and the addressee of the speech act in question.” Moreover, Butler continues, “it refuses as well the racist history of the convention of cross-burning by the Ku Klux Klan” (55).
Similarly, words, memes, and videos go viral online by stripping away all specificity (even the accent of the creator). The algorithm does not reward context. Specificity or difference is too unpopular or frustrating.
VII. The algorithm “liberates” the ego from social life.
You are frustrating, according to Freud. Here is how I understand the compelling story Freud tells about your psyche:
Your psyche is made up of three “agencies.” The Id, the ego, and the superego.
The superego is that part of the psyche akin to a parent or the pope. It judges the ego for failing to live up to its ideals.
“The ego,” Freud argues, “is first and foremost a bodily ego; it is not merely a surface entity, but is itself a projection of a surface” (The Ego and the Id, Standard Edition, 19:26).
Your ego is like your skin. It is on the frontline of your satisfaction. Like the algorithm, it seeks to exclude what is disturbing, frustrating, or different from recognition.
The ego and the superego are “dipped” in the Id, the sphere of exiled uncivilized/unconscious desire. Uncivilized desire resists exile.
One way naughty desire resists its exclusion is in and through the dreamwork. In dreams, uncivilized desire is reinterpreted, reimagined, and recontextualized in ways designed to evade the watchful ego’s censorship and to be absorbed and disseminated by the ego.
We wake up from our dreams when the process of redescription fails. We get woke when the censor “detranslates,” recognizing the disturbing thought, the wolf, in sheep’s clothing.
The ego’s project of satisfaction is frustrated by the Id and the superego. On the one hand, it is beset by disturbing desire (the Id). On the other hand, the ego is bullied by the judging superego.
The psyche is you, and your internal life mirrors your social life. You are caught between antisocial desires and obedience to the (moral) law. If you are lucky, you learn to live with your frustration.
The algorithm, much like the homes our parents began fearing us into back in the 1980s (see Jonathan Haidt’s book, The Anxious Generation, for more on “safetyism”), is akin to OxyContin. On the algorithm, the ego is liberated from the pressures of social life or life in the presence of others.
VIII. The algorithm wants to unlive you, but misery loves company.
Recently, I attended a lecture by Adam Phillips at the Chicago Psychoanalytic Institute. At one point in his lecture, Phillips made a simple observation. He noted that when you walk into your analyst’s office, you walk into a language.
I was reading Algospeak, a book I heard about on the podcast Offline with Jon Favreau, just before attending the lecture. So, I think that is why Phillips’s obviously correct comment struck and stuck with me.
I heard him say: When you walk into your analyst’s office, you are walking into an algorithm.
After explaining what I had heard to him, I asked him a question. If Adam Phillips were on TikTok, what would he say to grab our attention about our wanting or desiring?
Phillips’s response to my query was something like this: People do lose attention. That’s inevitable. When I talk to myself, that’s when people want to listen.
I understood Phillips to mean that when we don’t comply with the algorithm, other people want to listen to us. In other words, you are what other people find most interesting.
To be sure, you won’t go viral by talking to yourself online. The grace of unpopularity is the feeling of an enlivening misery.
– Another chapter in the radicalization of young Andrew Sullivan, generated by AI based on the essay below –
“Words connect with the rational part of our brains; images target the sub-rational. And in a sub-rational world, liberal democracy simply cannot exist” – Andrew Sullivan
Andrew Sullivan can’t get enough of the video of Charlie Kirk’s murder. In a recent Substack, he claims to have “watched that video a couple of times.”
The video of Kirk’s shooting, along with the recording of a young Ukrainian woman’s murder on a train in Charlotte, North Carolina, especially the quasi-beheading character of the killings, seem to have reinvigorated Sullivan’s old-world imagination.
Sullivan correctly notes that these truly horrific murders attack two core principles of any decent democratic society: “the right to be safe in public, and the right to speak freely without fear.” Sadly, Sullivan goes on to write a Tudor-era fiction, and he needs villains.
Andrew enlists “the woke” as his story’s villains: Muslims, critical theorists of all kinds, anti-exclusionary feminists like Judith Butler, faggy gays, Trans* activists, Black activists, and others. These villains are those who Sullivan believes can’t handle the truth: speech is never violent.
“The woke left, especially in the fringes the mainstream left adamantly refuses to rein in, condemn, or control,” Sullivan asserts, “bears some responsibility [for Kirk’s murder], because it has long equated speech with violence.” The “deeply illiberal idea” that a “bullet is no different in kind than a verbal provocation” has, according to Andrew, been forced upon a nonconsenting “young generation” by “the academic and journalistic left.”
Sullivan believes that speech and violent behavior are fundamentally separate realities, and he ridicules the supposedly woke notion that speech and violent actions can—and do—overlap. However, every democracy acknowledges a connection between speech acts and violent or hateful conduct.
In the U.S., the law makes a distinction between what is considered harm and actual harm. For example, it may hurt Andrew’s feelings if I call him a twat—but legally, my disagreement with Andrew is actionable only if I slap or scratch him. Actual harm involves a physical toll (Martha Nussbaum points out that courts recognize that smell can cause actual harm. See Nussbaum, Hiding from Humanity: Disgust, Shame and the Law[2004], e.g., 158-163).
A similar logic applies when distinguishing between speech, protected by the First Amendment, and conduct, which the law can restrict. Consider R.A.V. v. St. Paul (1992), a case Judith Butler discusses in Excitable Speech (1997).
In R.A.V. v. St. Paul, the Supreme Court ruled that a white person burning a cross in a Black family’s front yard is speech, not violent or harmful conduct. Therefore, St. Paul’s ordinance banning such burnings was declared unconstitutional.
The Court corrected itself in Virginia v. Black (2003). In this case, the Court ruled that Virginia’s law banning all cross burnings, regardless of context, is unconstitutional. However, the Court also decided that when context shows that a speech act, like cross burning, is intended to cause harm, it becomes unprotected speech and may be lawfully regulated.
U.S. courts distinguishbetween speech and violent acts (e.g., burning a cross at a klan rally). In these cases, words can—and do—act like bullets, piercing our psyches with unforgiving force, but that doesn’t make them unlawful or punishable by law.
U.S. courts also acknowledge a connectionbetween speech and violent acts (e.g., a klan member burning a cross on a Black family’s yard). Every democracy affirms that words can—and do—act like bullets when they are fired off with the intent, for example, of inciting a mob to attack the U.S. Capitol.
Andrew’s beef with his young woke despisers (he’s consistently miffed that the young woke don’t like him)is that they won’t make a distinction between speech and violence. Thus, the young woke believe, according to Sullivan, that violence/self-defense/legal regulation is always justified agianst speech they don’t like because such speech is alwaysactually harmful speech.
Sullivan, on the other hand, contends that speech is neveractually harmful. Words can never actually hurt us. Thus, violence/self-defense/legal regulation is never justified against speech.
So what?
Denying any overlap between speech and violent conduct enables Sullivan to neatly drop all speech acts in one bucket and all violent acts in another. Charlie Kirk’s public murder on a college campus in Utah, the young Ukrainian woman’s slaying on a train in Charlotte, and George Floyd’s death at the knees of a white cop in Minneapolis all go in the same bucket.
Likewise, arguments against gay marriage and abortion are treated similarly to arguments that deny or demean Trans* existence and oppose parents’ rights to make healthcare decisions for their Trans* children (while at the same time justifying the right of religious conservatives to determine the character of their children’s public school education [see also the New Thoughts Podcast, episode 4, Sex Changes]).
Sullivan’s refusal to recognize any link between speech and violent or hateful behavior allows him to take rhetorical aim from a high position on the whitewashed tomb of piety. “Tell the truth fearlessly,” Andrew preaches, “but always be open to correction. Decency, civility, nonviolence, humor, humility, grace: these are the virtues a free society needs to endure.”
Yet, without irony, humor, or humility, Sullivan claims, “It is never ‘hate’ to tell the truth: that men are not women; that children cannot meaningfully consent to sex changes. . . ,” while insisting that “the mainstream left . . . rein in, condemn, or control” the so-called “woke left,” including, presumably, parents of Trans* children (emphasis added).
It is dishonest, absurd, and manifestly wrong to either (a) collapse the distinction between speech and violent actions or to (b) deny any connection between speech and hateful acts. But what should a fair democracy do about and with disturbing speech?
The delicious irony is that Sullivan’s answer to that question (i.e., no regulation) closely resembles Judith Butler’s, as it is presented in Excitable Speech (1997).
Although Butler does acknowledge the overlap between speech and harm—arguing that speech can harm the human subject (i.e., the human being) because the subject is made of language—their solution to hurtful speech is resistant speech: more speech (of a different kind).
In fact, it is Butler’s reasonable, in my view, insistence that resistant speech acts–rather than political/legal intervention/regulation, are the solution to, say, fascist speech acts, that contributes to Martha Nussbaum’s damming assessment of Butler’s theory–worked out in Gender Trouble (1990) through to The Psychic Life of Power (1997)–as “quietism.”
Nussbaum concludes that Butler’s theory “collaborates with evil” (see Nussbaum, Philosophical Interventions[2012/1999],215; responses and Nussbaum’s reply, 215-222).
I cover the specifics of Butler’s theory and Nussbaum’s critique of it in a forthcoming essay. For now, I want to emphasize what is at stake (at least for us villains) in denying any link between speech and violent or hateful behavior, namely, the monarchic spirit manifestly possessing some speech acts is allowed to go entirely unchecked.
As I was reading Sullivan’s Substack, I kept thinking about Anne Boleyn as she’s portrayed in the Broadway musical SIX. In the song “Sorry, Not Sorry,” Boleyn reflects on her tonsorial audacity.
Speaking of Catherine of Aragon, she says, “[King Henry VIII] doesn’t wanna bang you / Somebody hang you. . . . / Mate, what was I meant to do? . . . / Sorry, not sorry ’bout what I said / I’m just tryna have some fun / Don’t worry, don’t worry, don’t lose your head / I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”
Later, Anne recalls Henry taking issue with her flirtatious behavior with other men. She responds, “Mate, just shut up / I wouldn’t be such a b- / If you could get it up. . . . And now he’s going ’round like off with her head. Yeah, I’m pretty sure he means it (seems it).”
Even while lamenting that Trump is incapable of cooling the rhetorical temperature, and demanding that we “[c]ool the rhetoric,” Sullivan denies that what he—and any of us—says has any real consequences. Kirk/Andrew desperately wants us to believe that he is just having some good ole, traditional political fun. Like, what is he meant to do?
Don’t lose your head, Andrew.
Kirk/Andrew’s “free” speech leads to the free reign of conservatives over the most vulnerable in U.S. society, such as immigrants, Trans* adults and children, Muslims, and others.
That’s why any just democracy should make speech acts that re-create and re-enforce a U.S. caste system, speech acts that come at the cost of the dignity of others, speech acts that demean and subjugate fellow citizens—and those who aspire to become citizens—not worth the cost of such illiberal behavior.
We can begin to rid our democracy of its monarchic spirits by supporting, defending, and fully funding a rigorous public school education in the sciences and humanities.
– Yinka Shonibare,Scramble for Africa (2003), 14 life-size fiberglass mannequins, 14 chairs, table, Dutch wax printed cotton. The Pinnell Collection, Dallas –
Calls for unity are being heard from across the political spectrum following the murder of Charlie Kirk. What is unity?
The production of unity requires creating a shared or “good language,” words permitted to be spoken. Unity is playing out in at least three different ways in relation to Kirk’s murder:
Kirk is a saint.
Kirk is a devil.
Kirk is a human animal, deserving of compassion.
However, the production of unity is not initially affirmative. Unity is predicated on censorship (see Judith Butler, e.g., Excitable Speech).
The politics of unity is founded on the creation of the zone(s) of its own dissolution, on the “bad speech” that must be silenced for unity to take its affirmative shape. Thus, at least three different speech acts are prohibited, depending on which one of the three unities you find appealing:
Kirk is a devil.
Kirk is a saint.
Kirk is inhuman, undeserving of compassion.
Similar scenes of unity usually unfold for me on an ecclesial stage. Consider the following examples:
Scene 1: I am prohibited from preaching/speaking of LGBTQ+ themes from the pulpit, to avoid being labeled as “controversial,” and to have the opportunity to preach about unity.
Scene 2: A lesbian pastor is prevented from asking for accountability when a guest delivers an anti-LGBTQ+ sermon from her pulpit, to maintain the unity of the church.
There is no escape from the scene(s) of unity. The subject is founded on its exclusive stage. Our readability as human animals entirely depends on an initial exclusion, on the prior “knowledge” of what constitutes the off-stage, the inhuman.
Another example from the ecclesial sphere may help us understand how the politics of unity shapes or fashions the subject. I wrote about it on a friend’s blog ages ago, in 2015.
I was asked to contribute to a blog series inquiring about the character of pastoral identity. Instead, I wondered about what was beyond pastoral identity. I illustrated my argument like this (I am amused by the person who decided to draw out his argument):
I explained:
The square[s constitute] the world. The circles (thin lines) represent various modes of life, the Hetero-social::State::Church and the homo-social::church::world, respectively. The thick black lines symbolize the circuitry of desire.
The image on the left represents our problem. The image on the right represents what is beyond pastoral identity. The dotted-line between the images indicates that the two images do not overlap; the church (right) is in a non—relationship-or to the side of—the Church (left). How are we to interpret the image on the left?
The fact that there are three circles is not important. The Church, the State, and the Hetero-social occupy the same sphere. As you can see, [those spheres keep] desire [. . .] in its place.
Desire is stuck to the Institution and is, therefore, necessarily immobilized within the system imaged on the left. The Church, let us say, is structured like a certain ego [subject, identity, etc].
The image on the right is my attempt to represent a step to the side of the system within which our problem makes any sense. Note the square(s) at the center of the circle(s) on the right. The church’s desire is in the world—where the church always-already re-finds itself—welcomed. The church corresponds with the world.
I did not know it then, but by sidestepping the invitation to define pastoral identity, I was, in fact, describing it. Pastoral unity or identity depends on what is outside or beyond it, namely, the world.
Thus,
we may not say:
The pastor is the world;
we may say:
The pastor is the Church/State/Heterosexual.
Given that we cannot escape the politics of unity, the question arises: What do we do with it? It is a possibility/question inherent in the politics of unity itself.
In 2015, referring back to my drawings, I wrote, “This [threatening] possibility is imaged on the left by the diagonal sphere [formed by a dotted black line meeting a solid black line that then spins outside of the Institution, into the world], that exceeds the system within which it is initially confined. We might understand this movement as desire’s resistant drift.”
We may not be able to escape the pull of unity, but unity’s regulatory power is not fully within its direction. Spinning off-stage, we may occupy the space of unity’s first creation: the sphere of its dissolution, disruption, or redefinition.
If we remain strictly within the scene(s) of unity, we are obliged to lie and deceive. Specifically, we are compelled to confuse the world with our projections or phantasms, pretending that what we are not is strictly outside of us, in the world.
As I have written elsewhere, the author of Ephesians offers us an alternative to the normative politics of unity. We may speak the truth in irony (Ephesians 4[:15]).
One way to understand speaking the truth in irony is as a practice of not . . . taking ourselves too seriously. Unity is not worth the price of someone’s or some other group’s degradation.
In the resistant ecclesial space, we may say that the pastor is the church (lowercase c) in the world (illustrated by the image on the right). In the resistant murder scene, we may say that Kirk is a human animal undeserving of compassion.
Speaking the truth in irony, we may, or at least this is what the author of Ephesians hopes will happen, grow up in unity.
– Judith Beheading Holofernes, 1599 by Caravaggio –
Why is it difficult for progressives to respond to the murder of Charlie Kirk?
Yes, gun-related violence is tragically all too common in our country. Yes, murder is not an appropriate way to resolve disputes with our fellow citizens. Enough said, no?
Apparently not, as Kirk is quickly becoming an exemplar of American politics, which means having the “courage” to make the most extreme, anti-democratic arguments in a democratic forum (e.g., that the 2020 election was stolen . . . ).
Tears are being shed because Kirk’s kids are now in the worst possible situation—well, at least the worst situation conservatives (and more than a few, it seems, male progressives) can imagine: alone in the world with their mother . . . . It occurs to me, since their mother is white, Kirk’s kids are not, from a conservative perspective, in the worst possible situation.
One of the things the HIV/AIDS crisis taught many of us is that conservatives enjoy dancing on the graves of those who lived in ways with which they disagree. “Bad” lifestyles, they continue to argue, inevitably meet with God’s wrath–or, in his stead, the subcommittee of the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith: the Supreme Court of the United States.
Of course, that kind of theology is stupid and gross. Nonetheless, it makes sense when viewed as a strictly social phenomenon.
We can (a) agree that murder—that gun violence—is not an acceptable political strategy, and we can (b) insist that compassion for Kirk is not warranted. The facts of his life make him culpable for his death.
One may counter that (c) compassion must eventually follow (b) one’s lack of compassion for Kirk. But that is to misunderstand the logic of compassion itself. Compassion is warranted only in those instances where a subject is not responsible for the tragedy that befalls them.
Traveling around the country, disparaging and demeaning your fellow citizens—even arguing that “[i]t’s worth it to have a cost of, unfortunately, some gun deaths every single year so that we can have the Second Amendment”—will inevitably make some number of amygdalae twitchy. Flight is not the only response to perceived threats to one’s dignity, freedom, and well-being (and all that is about to get worse as it seems Kennedy is calling the efficacy of SSRIs, like Lexapro, into question).
I take no pleasure in Kirk’s death, and I am not indifferent to it, either. A human being was murdered yesterday. Yet, c need not (eventually) follow a and b.
If you encourage cruelty, you should not be surprised when it finds you. If you live by the sword, why are you surprised when you die by it, too?
– Ai Weiwei, Dropping a Han Dynasty Urn, 1995. Three gelatin silver prints, 148 x 121 cm each –
“But on rising from the table where [Foucault] had inwardly decreed this end [to the writing of History of Sexuality 2 and 3], he knocked over a glass that broke, and just then it seemed to him that the time of satisfaction was ended; it had not lasted but a few seconds.”
The author of Ephesians (most scholars don’t think it’s a Pauline letter) writes, “But speaking the truth in love, we must grow up . . . “ (4:15, NRSV).
Riffing on Judith Butler’s analysis of speech in Excitable Speech: A Politics of the Performative (1997), in which Butler continues their engagement with J.L. Austin’s theory of language, I ask, What kind of speech act is “speaking the truth in love”?
Is speaking the truth in love (a) an example of a performative speech act (a type of illocutionary speech act), a form of speech that immediately does what it announces (e.g., “I pronounce you husband and husband”)? Or, is speaking the truth in love (b) an example of a perlocutionary speech act, a type of speech that, as a result of being spoken, sets in motion a chain of consequences (e.g., “Get out, get out before I kill you!”)?
In other words, when we read, “But speaking the truth in love, we grow up . . .” are we to think that (a) we grow up at the very moment we speak the truth in love, that in the act of speaking the truth in love we become a body possessed by the mind of Messiah? Or, are we to think that (b) we grow up into Christ as a consequence of speaking the truth in love, that the future or promise of speaking the truth in love is growing into a body ruled by the mind of Messiah?
Perhaps the answer is (c): none of the above.
The Greek is (for me!) a bit tricky, but it is helpful to have it before our eyes: “[1] Alētheuontes de en agapē [2]auxēsōmen eis auton ta panta, hos estin hē kephalē, Christos.”
What we take Ephesians 4:15 to mean is, I think, determined by the words 1) Alētheuontes and 2) auxēsōmen.
Alētheuontes = speaking the truth, and it is a present active participle. It means that speaking the truth in love is a way of life that is ongoing.
Auxēsōmen = must/should/might grow into, and it is an aorist subjunctive verb, first person plural. It means that growth is a possible outcome of beginning to (I take the aorist here as indicating a “point of entry” into some action) speak the truth in love.
If my analysis is correct, it would seem that “speaking the truth in love” is neither a performative nor a perlocutionary speech act. It does not do what it says in the moment of its saying. Moreover, there is no guarantee that in saying it, that in speaking the truth in love, we will grow into a body ruled by Messiah. The author hopes that growth will follow the act of speaking the truth in love.
There is another possibility, answer (d): speaking the truth in love is neither a performative nor a perlocutionary speech act, but it is intended to become a perlocutionary speech act.
Ephesians 4 begins with the author neither asking nor demanding that their readers “make every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.” Instead, they “beg” their readers to do so (vv 1-3). The author does not have the necessary status to make either a performative or a perlocutionary statement. The outcome of either kind of speech act depends on a convincing citation of law, tradition, context, and so on.
The force of the author’s statement depends entirely on the character of its readers.If they are the subjects of messianic desire, then they will forsake deceitful living and speak the truth in love, growing into the body of the Messiah and thereby maintaining “the unity of the Spirit in the body of peace.”
These observations are essential for understanding what it means to speak the truth in love. For too many Christians, this passage means: You are free to say the nastiest things to others so long as you do it gently and with a smile. Bless their hearts!
Ephesians 4:15 is often read as blessing hubris–this even though the author begs the readers to adopt a position of weakness and humility at the outset (vv 1-3). Weakness and humility are the preconditions for speaking the truth in love.
To understand why weakness and humility are preconditions for speaking the truth . . . in love, let us briefly consider Alain Badiou’s elaboration of the Truth in Conditions. “I propose to call ‘religion,’” Badiou writes, “everything that presupposes that there is a continuity between truths and the circulation of meaning” (24). Furthermore, Badiou contends that “any truth that accepts a position of dependency with regard to narrative and revelation is still gripped by mystery, whereas philosophy [and, in my view, theology] only exists in its desire to tear down mystery’s veil” (36). Moreover, “Philosophy [and, in my view, theology,] commences . . . only with a desacralization: it establishes a regime of discourse that is its own inherent and earthly legitimation . . . the authority of profound utterance [being] interpreted by argumentative secularization” (36, emphasis original).
Why, though, is religion as the “continuity of truths and the circulation of meaning” and mystery (related as it is to veiling meaning) opposed to the Truth, while secularization is amenable to it?
All too briefly, Badiou defines the Truth as an empty or operational category out of which truths are seized. Truth is not the same as presence; it is not present; thus, it cannot be associated with “the circulation of meaning” (23).
The Truth is precisely what is not present in a text, play, film, and so forth. Philosophy—and, in my view, theology—is the practice of seizing truths out of the void of Truth, of trying to say what is impossible to say.
Philosophy—and, in my view, theology—is “subtractive in that it cuts holes in sense, or causes an interruption in the circulation of sense, so that it comes that truths are said all together” (24, emphasis mine). Yet, the truth is not a “mystery,” veiled and unknowable. We can “know” the Truth as truths that cause knowledge to fail (46).
Truth is necessarily fiction. Thus, power cannot make Truth persuasive. Hence the significance for philosophy, and, in my view, theology, of address. “Addressed to all so that all may be in seizing the existence of truths, it is like a political strategy with no stake in power” (23). A disciple is one persuaded by such an address; a disciple is the subject of the address, “one who knows that [they do] not form a public or constitute an audience but support a transmission” (28).
My all too hasty reading of Badiou on Truth in Conditions brings us back to Ephesians 4. Recall that the author begins from a standpoint of weakness and humility. They address the reader with a Truth that is truths. Take note of the one that is seven ones in Ephesians 4: one body, one Spirit, one hope, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God (vv 4-5). The Truth exists for all those who are subjects of its truths—hence the author cannot guarantee if their admonition will inspire growth into the one body that is not one—and not whole. If the body were whole, there would be no need for the address.
So, what does all this potentially mean? What truth may we seize from this address and so address to others?
My answer: The Truth is fiction, so it must be shared with a sense of irony (i.e., in agapē — and why I think agapē should be interpreted as an already ironized form of desire is a topic for another day).
Put another way, Truth is just not that serious. Truth is (un)serious. Unity then, or growth in love, or growing into the one body that is not one, involves trying things out, imagining things differently: an open mind. It does not require belief in any doctrine or even belief, a force of will that purports to make the Truth present.
“The modern sophist,” Badiou writes, “attempts to replace the idea of truth with the idea of the rule” (6). I have argued elsewhere that the (modern) cleric attempts to “replace the idea of truth with the idea of the” norm.
“But speaking the truth in love” entails living without such assurances. It is more like sending a postcard: we hope the exposed truths make it to the listed address, to the all to which it is (un)intentionally addressed—”so that all may be in seizing the existence of truths.”
In one National Geographic presentation on migration, gazelles run across the screen as the narrator says something like, migration is life. Movement, multitasking, scanning the horizon for prey or for predators–even as they eat or sleep–is animal life.
We recently traveled to Chicago, and our son was especially interested in the “L” system. As we walked to the train, I shared with him that city life involves a lot of flexibility. A young man immediately made my point.
Inexplicably, the young man decided to stop and take a call midway up the stairs leading to the train, reducing two lanes of pedestrian traffic to one. If he had cared to notice, he would have seen that people were building up behind him, unable to pass without colliding with the people walking freely down the stairs in the opposite direction.
A lady passed the young man before turning around to stare at him violently, as if to scream “WTF?!” in the young man’s face. He did not notice her.
We were next. We passed quickly and quietly around the young man. However, the man walking behind us, struggling to carry many bags, let himself be heard: “Bro! What the fuck are you doing?! Take your fucking call at the top of the stairs—you’re blocking everyone from the station!”
We laughed. We kept moving, eventually boarding the Brown Line.
When we exited at Sedgwick and started walking back to our hotel, we noticed a group of teenagers entering the crosswalk early. A passing white truck almost hit them. The driver of the truck stopped just past the intersection, and he yelled, “Are you ok?!”—and in a way that clearly conveyed that he thought the young men were not ok, as in not mentally well.
The young men got it. They yelled back, even more mockingly, “Are you ok?!” And this went on until one of the young men made a gun with his fingers and the sounds pop, pop, pop before saying to the man in his white truck, “You better get moving.”
Inflexibility, getting stuck in the moment, is the (potential) death of you. We kept moving.
Ben Rhodes recently argued, “Short-term compulsions blind us to the forces remaking our lives.” What Rhodes calls “short-termism” is not exactly a lack of movement. “We are all living in the disorienting present,” Rhodes writes, “swept along by currents we don’t control. The distractions abound.”
For Rhodes, distraction is a type of stuckness “in . . . currents we don’t control,” the movement of other people’s, (in Rhodes’s article, Trump’s), desire.
I see it the other way around. Distraction is the solution to presentism.
We tend to think that the opposite of distraction is attention. But attention is a form of distraction.
As we walked around Chicago, I often reminded my son to “pay attention.” I meant for him to focus less on the objects of his desire, the cute Labubu in the store window, my mother at the jewelry counter, getting to the bathroom or on/off the elevator, and to attend to the world around him, to the people and cars moving toward him and to details, like what floor the elevator had stopped on.
The meaning of “pay attention,” to pay attention its due, was dramatically revealed when my son accidentally hit an old woman’s cain with his foot, nearly sending her to the ground. He didn’t notice her cain because he was focused on an object of his desire.
Staying focused is a form of traction rather than a form of attention, a type of distraction. Animals tend to die when they are focused, when they are not paying attention, when they are attracted to the delicious grass, the person with a nice gyatt, the phone call, the teenagers in the crosswalk, and so on.
I was walking around Brussels when I noticed an attractive young man and his friends standing on the sidewalk. He noticed my loud stare (I know, a bad habit!), and he smiled before asking me something innocent. Before I knew it, he had tripped me and stole my wallet (talk about being caught in currents!). For whatever reason, when I asked him to give my wallet back–he obliged (perhaps he was just practicing to rob people or he though it unethical to rob gay men or he noticed my wallet was empty or he had made his point about staring, about traction . . . )!
I learn the hard way. When I first moved to Chicago, I owned a car (I know dad, you owned a car!)–and I quickly learned why city folk fervently pray for parking spaces. In this instance, my prayers were not answered, and I decided to park in a prohibited space.
I reasoned that it would only take me sixtyish seconds to use the bank’s ATM. On that day, I learned that it takes less than a minute to have your car towed. The upside of this is experience (one of 2 dramatic times I got towed in Chicago. The second time, keyed and covered in syrup[!], the car was towed to a 103rd street!) is that I got to explore lower, lower Wacker Drive, the location where a few scenes of Dark Knight and Transformers: Age of Extinction were filmed–and of one of the city’s impound lots.
Traction costs a lot, too.
The question now arises: should we always resist traction for the pragmatics of distraction? Or, if collective life requires the suspension of one’s own desire, is there a time to forsake attention for the pleasures of traction or focus?
In the rural Idaho town where I grew up, it was not uncommon for farmers to pull off the side of the road, one truck on each side, and talk for a good while. On many early mornings my dad joins a group of men at the local gas station to talk about only God knows (I surely don’t want to know!).
In the country, one is not often punished for this kind of decadence. No one dies for focusing on friends or neighbors–and no one gets their car towed for parking incorrectly or even unwisely.
I thought of this on our recent visit to New York City (if you have not seen the musicals Operation Mincemeat or Death Becomes Her[so, so much better than the movie!], you must! Go now!). We were walking along the edge of Times Square, and I noticed a man on the ground, in a position that suggested he was sleeping. “Tourist-looking” people were sitting on the bench near him, looking unconcerned.
Even though his position on the ground caused me concern, I irrationally assumed others would have already taken action if the man was not well. I kept moving.
I should have stopped; I should have focused on the man, if even just long enough inquire about his well-being or to ask someone else to do so.
Rural Studies research makes the valuable point that rural spaces exist in cities. The reverse is also true: city spaces exist in rural towns.
The division between the city and the country can be translated as city = space that requires distraction (i.e., vigilance, forward think, reality principle) while rural = space that allows for the indulgence of traction (i.e., talking to strangers, walking in the street, and so on).
Collective life, of whatever size, requires an ethics or practice of distraction. Yet, if our collective life is just, it will make space for individual pleasures, space for stopping, caring, helping, loving, creating, spontaneity-ing, moments discomfiting, focusing–in a word, pleasuring–possible.
I grant that we must pay attention to live together; we must keep on the move, facing multiple directions at once. If living together is what we really want, we must pay attention its due. Yet, we seem to “know” that collective life is not always what we really want. We seem to “know” that life is not always worth its due.
Hence the relief of letting go, of finding ourselves temporarily “dropped back into the immense design of things” (Willa Cather). It feels good to give into our anti-social impulses–and justice allows it, for a time.
Traction isn’t free. Nonetheless, we more often than not experience the cost of it as worth every dime. Thus, making America distracted again is an urgent political task.
The dramatic conclusion of Byung-Chul Han’s gloriously terse The Burnout Society (2015) calls forth–for me–an image of a sow in a gestation crate.
The sow may be genetically engineered to produce upwards of 20 piglets a year. According to Big Pork, the gestation crate is necessary for the sow’s health. In her crate, she lives a healthy life, but a life without what Han describes as “livingness.” The sow lives a life–but not “the good life” (50, emphasis original)
The life of the industrial sow is a vestige of an earlier form of human society. Her health is required–and it is enforced/policed by the Master, by Big Pork. When age or disease makes health impossible–the sow is killed. She becomes what she can no longer (re)produce: pork.
Unlike the industrial sow, living as she does in a disciplinary society, Han argues that we live in an achievement society. In our case, we have returned to the wild, and the internalized imperative of absolute survival is our Master.
The distinguishing feature of the achievement society is self-regulation. Gone are the days of an external Master ruling over their sows. Nowadays, we enter the crate of (re)production of our own “free” will.
Our eagerness to (re)produce breeds burnout because closure or an end to (re)production is not forthcoming in our survival society. Ultimately, our inability to live up to our ideal–to endlessly live/produce–stuns us.
II. Humans in a Crate
The achievement society is a “capitalist economy [that] absolutizes survival” (50). The survival society is, according to Han, an active, multi-tasking society:
Multitasking is commonplace among wild animals. It is an attentive technique indispensable for survival in the wilderness. An animal busy with eating must also attend to other tasks. For example, it must hold rivals away from its prey. It must constantly be on the lookout, lest it be eaten while eating. . . In the wild, the animal is forced to divide its attention between various activities. . . . The animal cannot immerse itself contemplatively in what it is facing because it must also process background events. Not just multitasking but also activities such as video games produces a broad but flat mode of attention, which is similar to the vigilance of a wild animal . . . . Concern for the good life, which includes life as a member of the community, is yielding more and more to the simple concern for survival (12-13).
As driven animals, we do not require external motivation to (re)produce. “That is, the achievement-subject competes with itself; it succumbs to the destructive compulsion to outdo itself over and over, to jump over its own shadow” (46).
According to Han, I am “predator and prey at once.” I “exploit” myself (10, 19). I am unable to be unproductive.
Yet, we are not aware that we have walked into and are living entirely within the gestation crate. The achievement-subject “thinks itself free of all foreign constraint” but is “entangled in destructive self-constraints” (47).
III. Stunned
What our entanglement in the crate of our freedom achieves is burnout and depression. “Burnout . . . often precedes depression” (44).
Burnout is the fatigue experienced by the “entrepreneur of the self” (Agony of Eros, 9). It is the result of “voluntary self-exploitation,” of being a “flexible person,” of constantly changing to meet the current demands of the market (Burnout, 44, emphasis original).
The real ego strives to keep up with the demand, the ever-new market, now projected as the ego ideal. The problem is that closure/gratification is not forthcoming—one never arrives at their desired destination.
Thus, I turn on myself. “In view of the ego ideal, the real ego appears as a loser buried in self-reproach” (47).
Depression is the deepening of fatigue/burnout. “The exhausted, depressive achievement-subject grinds itself down . . . it locks its jaws on itself . . . this leads the self to hallow and empty out” (42).
The depressive subject is characterless, formless, chaotic. The depressive lacks the strength to rebrand. It is stuned.
IV. Blood Bath
Han offers a promising antidote to the (re)production of the achievement society: the tired society. We may appreciate his constructive proposal more if we address an aspect of his analysis that I think is incorrect, in addition to some reservations I have with it.
My reservations are as follows:
First reservation: Is the split between an older disciplinary society and the contemporary achievement society (even more regressive than the previous disciplinary society) as clear and radical as Han seems to think it is?
The success of Donald Trump in the U.S. indicates that the distinction between the two societies is not so clear. Trump masterfully deployed the immunological imaginary of the disciplinary society, casting the Other as a contagion–a dire threat to the pure blood of the social body. Trump’s strategy would not have worked if the idea of otherness had been weak or powerless, as it is in Han’s achievement society.
It does seem like the old disciplinary logic is lurking in the background. Perhaps repressed, it erupts into view every so often.
Second reservation: It is also hard not to notice in Han’s writing what I call a mystical flair. In Agony of Eros, Han asserts that “[e]ros conquers depression” (4). The Other is salvation from what Han calls absolute positivity or “the inferno of the same.”
But at what cost? The self.
In his Forward to The Agony of Eros, Alain Badiou reminds us that the “vanishing of the self in the Other–has a long and glorious history: the mystical love of God . . . ” (xi). While Badiou cites Saint John of the Cross as an example, there are others, like Mechthild of Magdeburg, Angela of Foligno, and Marguerite Porete.
From them we learn that self-evacuation/immobilization tends to lead in one of two directions: either to 1) the reification of the self–i.e., to auto-eroticism–(e.g., Mechthild); or to 2) the evacuation of the self (e.g., Angela, Porete). The outcome is not guaranteed.
Moreover, the difference between them is not clear. The inferno of the same melts identity down, leaving it to suffocate in its blood, while the freeze(?) of the Other immobilizes the self, incapacitating it.
The idea seems to be that immanence/same without transcendence/Other is a kind of hell (or a deadly illusion) and transcendence/Other without immanence/same is a kind of heaven (i.e., the real). Ok, but if the same/self/Own is irrelevant in either case, why are the respective “destinations” evaluated differently?
Third reservation: Han does not consider animal development in his philosophy. Animal development is not a novel philosophical topic. For example, Rousseau observes that the infant begins in monarchy (i.e., the same).
Her Majesty then enters into a relationship with the maternal parent(s) (i.e., Other[s]). Only then, if she is lucky, does she begin to leave the family sphere and enter society–hopefully as a citizen committed to love and reciprocity.
For example, Nussbaum consistently points out the ongoing threat of monarchy, or what Han describes as “the inferno of the same.” However, what Han considers a return to animality, Nussbaum recognizes as an aspect of human animal development.
So much for my reservations. What do I think Han gets wrong? I think he is wrong about the status of psychoanalysis in the supposed era of the absolute achievement society.
V. In the Beginning: the Unconscious
In Burnout, Han asserts that “Freudian psychoanalysis is only possible in repressive societies that found their organization on the negativity of prohibitions and commandments.” Han claims that the “late-modern achievement subject possesses an entirely different psyche than the obedience-subject for whom Freud conceived psychoanalysis” (36, emphasis original).
“The Freudian unconscious,” Han recognizes, “is not a formation that exists outside of time.” The unconscious is also not, pace Han, “a product of a disciplinary society . . . that we have long left behind” (36). The formation of the unconscious does not depend on society.
Jean Laplanche, for example, argues that the unconscious is formed by “enigmatic signifiers,” messages from adults (what I am calling the maternal caregiver[s]/Other[s]) that are untranslatable by the infant/child. Consequently, these messages are repressed–forming “a certain type of reality, called the unconscious” (“A Short Treatise on the Unconscious”, 92).
Han may respond that Freud ultimately rejected the seduction theory that Leplanche revives, giving primacy to the Other in the formation of the unconscious. Yes, Freud argues that the unconscious is formed in response to the instincts. In so doing, Freud makes otherness an intractable, internal feature of the human being (i.e., the biological organism, the human body, or the same).
Society, of whatever kind, need not play a (primary) role in the formation of the unconscious. The unconscious originates as a result of trauma, specifically the shock of human existence, starting at birth.
VI. Entangling/Entangled Desire
The formation of the unconscious does not depend on social organization–and this detail is significant because without the unconscious, there can be neither an achievement society nor a viable source of resistance to it.
The unconscious is the source of desire, and Han’s achievement society, it seems to me, is driven–not by instinct–but bydesire. Desire is inherently unentangled. As such, it drags the subject of desire in various directions. In this way, meaning is (re)produced.
Desire flits from this to that, like a hummingbird, (re)producing meaning out of originally disentangled, unconscious materials. Desire perpetually entangles–that is, it (re)forms the unentangled chaos of the unconscious.
The unconscious is also an occasion, at least within a Lacanian framework, for the entanglement of desire. This is an important observation because Han’s achievement society is, it seems to me, both frenetically active and frozen in place.
In the achievement society, the hummingbird flits about in a cage. The cage is the death drive.
The drive captures desire, entangling it in a cycle of repetition. Now, the hummingbird returns to the same flower again and again. In this way, the drive tires desire.
Tiring desire, the drive, the cage in which desire is captured, potentially frees it from the confines of the crate in which it is unknowingly circulating. Slowed, desire is potentially forced to see the crate/the thing in which it has unknowingly constrained itself.
Han’s achievement society is entirely diagnosable, if you will, from within a psychoanalytic framework–and in a sense that is entirely consistent with Han’s argument. The unconscious is a powerful resource for rethinking–and even for refocusing–political desire.
VII. The Entangled Society
In my view, the Other is the figure of the death drive in Han’s Burnout Society. The Other entangles or tires (as opposed to exhausts) the same–potentially opening it up to a new relationship with the world, women, and men.
Han, commenting on Peter Handke’s work, “Essay on Tiredness,” locates a form of tiredness that opens up “a space of friendliness-as-indifference, where ‘no one and nothing dominates or commands'” (31). Han observes that “[s]uch ‘fundamental tiredness’ brings together all the forms of existence and coexistence that vanish in the course of absolutized activity” (32).
Handke’s “we-tiredness”–a tired with you, as opposed to “I-tiredness,” a tired of you–opens up a potentially playful space between Others (33, 34). Han defines the space between as the Sabbath.
Han notes that Sabbath “originally meant stopping” (33, emphasis original). It is a day to stop commanding and being commanded. Duty and/or desire rest. This is the single day God calls holy. “It is a day of tiredness,” Han writes, “a time of, and for, play” (34).
The religion of the entangled society is “an immanent religion of [fundamental] tiredness” (34, emphasis original). It is a society in the grip of a playful drive, one inspiring new connections, curiosity, and openness without yielding to the pressure to achieve anything.
The entangled society is not the society of no! or yes we can!–it is the society of see what happens when you (are) stop(ped)and you play.
In my view, Han comes very close to theorizing a society that recombines duty and desire, reality and pleasure principles. Isn’t that what play enables, relationships with Others that are also pleasing–and even potentially new? But at the last moment, Han dances away, escaping “the achievement-principle entirely” (24).
Jon Favreau and Jon Lovett of Pod Save America recently interviewed the inimitable Representative Sarah McBride (D-Delaware). Among McBride’s interesting insights and arguments is the idea that the two major U.S. political parties are gendered. Republicans are gendered masculine (or identified in terms of fatherhood). Democrats are gendered feminine (or identified in terms of motherhood).
Here’s their conversation (if you prefer to watch, jump in at 12:44):
Rep. McBride: I’ve been thinking about how do you fight back against Trump in a smart way . . . because we are so susceptible to sort of this Trump derangement syndrome dynamic. We’ve been screaming about democracy. . . rights and the rule of law for so long—and clearly, this country voted for someone who incited an insurrection. . . .
The Democratic party is the woman of politics and the Republican party is the man of politics. It’s why Donald Trump can scream and yell and people see him as strong—and why when [Democrats] scream and yell we’re seen as hysterical and shrill. It’s why Donald Trump can hate and insult more than half of this country—because we tolerate deadbeat dads, but Democrats can’t say anything about any voters that [impugn] their motives and their good faith—because a mom has to love every single one of her children. So, I’ve been thinking about how do you grapple with that reality that is a real double standard. . . .
Lovett: Let’s test this new way of talking . . . . You’re trying to make people understand how dangerous it is that Donald Trump is coming after basic academic freedom, but you’re worried it’s not going to resonate with people. How do you talk about it?
Rep. McBride: With all of these actions that we’re seeing against immigrants, against institutions, [the Trump Administration is] picking on the most unpopular, the most vulnerable. They’re picking on people who are easy targets. I do think . . . you have to go back to what we were talking about before, which is that if they can do it [to them], they can do it to you . . . . They can do it to my constituents . . . . I think we can do a better job by making the main character [of our story] our constituents.
Changing our political situation requires, McBride claims, recognizing how political party affiliation is gendered. For example, Republicans can get away with being angry, but Democrats must always be empathetic. “[A] mom,” McBride says, “has to love every single one of her children.”
Motherhood is often the object of politics because the public sphere, the sphere of politics, is gendered masculine. The traditional story is that politics is for men; the management of the home is for women. For McBride, motherhood is the subject of political action.
But what is maternal politics, exactly? In her response to Lovett’s question about how to discuss maternal politics in the context of education, McBride attempts to clarify the character of partisan gendered politics. Her answer, namely that the mother protects “easy targets” of public abuse, isn’t specific enough–so it can’t inspire serious Democratic political action.
In what follows, I ask a revised version of Lovett’s question to McBride: How do you talk about maternal politics in the context of early childhood public education? To answer the question well, we need a definition of maternal politics that is specific enough to avoid confusion (e.g., terrorist organizations like Moms for Liberty claim to love all children) and to provoke serious liberal and/or progressive public action. I propose the following definition:
Maternal politics = public action(s) to secure and defend a boy’s rightto become a man who desires like a woman/mother.
Why a boy’s right to desire like a woman/mother? Consider recent oral arguments before the Supreme Court of the United States regarding an opt-out option for religious conservatives who do not want their children exposed to readings that mention/feature same-sex desire in the public school classroom. It was a book about male same-sex marriage that caught the attention of conservative Associate Justice Samuel Alito.
Conservatives are manifestly not as passionate or concerned about a girl’s public education. What they care about is the reproduction of traditional or normative masculinity. Hence their focus on male same-sex desire. Conservatives think that male homosexuality is especially threatening to the future of straight maleness.
I think my definition of maternal politics helps explain the recurring outbursts of straight anxiety about male homosexuality and the “indoctrination” of boys in our public elementary school. Furthermore, the specificity of my definition of maternal politics (one of many possible proposals) allows us to form a more direct and beneficially partisan answer to (the revised version of) Lovett’s question about gender politics and academic freedom in Trump’s U.S.
Here is the take I will explain and defend below: Conservatives have used the public school system to indoctrinate boys, and we have generally failed to resist it because we (unconsciously) agree with the “obvious” meaning of the conservative premise: boys should be boys. Instead, we should reform early childhood public education by securing and defending a boy’s right to desire like a woman/mother.
A traditional public school education entails learning skills, especially (though it is never explicitly acknowledged) the skill (and appreciation) of straight maleness (i.e., normative masculinity). Between the ages of 5 and 6, boys are forced by law to leave the sphere of maternal power (i.e., the home/family) and enter the public school system. It is in the public school classroom that they begin to learn, formally (i.e., curriculum) and informally (i.e., socially), to desire “proper” manhood or straight maleness.
The irony is that the reproduction of “proper” manhood necessarily requires/inspires homoerotic desire. Boys must be motivated to undertake an education in normative masculinity. Thus, they are taught to want men/manhood.
You may argue that what boys are taught is the protocols of normative masculinity rather than to desire adult males–but the foundation of straight logic is that sex, gender, and sexuality are inextricably linked. Male/penis > masculine > heterosexual. In other words, a boy can’t want masculinity without also wanting men.
A second irony: the propagation of masculinity requires a boy to desire like a woman/mother. The transmission of normative masculinity from one generation to the next requires, at least initially, the misalignment of sex, gender, and desire (i.e., male/penis desiring man/masculine). It is at this early stage that normative masculinist logic shows its ass (= its vulnerability).
The vulnerability of normative masculinity is its unnaturalness. In other words, “proper” maleness does not inevitably proceed from being born with a penis. “Proper” maleness must be taught.
The fact that straight maleness is taught is not exactly the problem. The way normative masculinity is taught is the source of its tyranny.“Normal” masculinity is presented uncritically, and it requires uncritical acceptance to be mistaken for normal (i.e., natural) or, as the Trump Administration prefers, for “biological truth.”
Traditionally, this is why the acknowledgment of (male) homosexuality in public schools has been a source of straight panic. It exposes the hole of straight maleness: straight masculinity is not natural. It is optional.
Nowadays, homosexuality is not as often considered inherently opposed to straight masculinity. It’s an interesting development. Today, dudes sucking dick (homie head, brojob, etc.) is just another way for boys to be boys.
Straight ideology is flexible, and gay identity politics is clever. It’s a win-win situation: straight masculinity remains (if not natural) inherently desirable, and male homosexuals are welcome to enjoy its privileges–well, at least if they are good students, willing to learn/embody the protocols of “proper” masculinity.
So, recent arguments before the Supreme Court about readings in public schools that mention same-sex desire may be read as a form of social progress. Before books that acknowledge the reality of happy adult male homosexual relationships (happiness being what I think Justice Alito means by the “subtle” moral message of the book that offends religious conservatives) defiled God’s male children, the biggest threat to the “proper” education of our male children was the gay male English teacher. And before the English teacher became sus, the “gay” male philosopher was considered the corrupter of male youth.
“In a famous passage in The Divine Comedy,” writes David M. Halperin in “Deviant Teaching” (2007, 146-167), Dante represents himself as encountering, in the course of his journey through Hell, the soul of [philosopher] Brunetto Latini . . .” (146). Why did Dante put poor Brunetto in Hell? “His sin is tellingly not named in Canto 15, but other passages in Inferno remove any doubts about its identity. Brunetto is damned for sodomy” (146).
When Dante asks him about his companions in Hell, Brunetto answers that “all were clerks and great men of letters, in the world defined by one [and the] same sin” (148). “Sodomy,” Halperin declares, “is evidently a sin to which literary scholars, critics, and writers (such as Dante himself) are particularly prone” (148).
Halperin, a public university English professor trained as a classicist–and no stranger to controversy–reminds us of “how ancient is the association between teaching and sodomy, between paedagogy and paederasty” (149). “[T]he abolition of any clear or firm distinction between the relation of teacher and student and the relation of lover and beloved is,” Halperin writes, “one of the most notorious consequences of Plato’s metaphysical theory of erotic desire” (149). Teaching “has an extended history of association with deviance and has long figured as a deviant practice” (151).
If gender were a “biological truth,” as the Trump Administration claims it is, then straight anxiety inspired by the fantasy of homosexual indoctrination in public schools would be a genuine absurdity. The reality of old school straight anxiety exposes a glitch in the code of masculinist transmission: gender is a social–not a biological–reality. It must be taught and learned.
For a boy to become a man, he must leave the maternal sphere, the home. He must also leave his father’s side. A boy’s father “is too closely tied to the boy by blood and domesticity . . . so they cannot fully . . . incarnate the cultural ideal of male identity . . . ” (151).
“Every proper boy,” Halperin writes, “has to have at least two daddies” (151, emphasis original). Boys learn to become traditional or “proper” men in the public sphere (e.g., schools, sports teams, etc.).
The glitch in the heteronormative educational regime is further exposed by how it represents the social transmission of masculinity (154-155). Consider how the Sambia of Papua New Guinea ritualize the reproduction of strong warrior men.
Elder males take boys ages 8-9 off into the forest where they are forced to perform oral sex on adolescent males. Halperin observes that the young boys are taught to think of “cock-sucking as a kind of breast-feeding” (155).
Ingesting semen, the boys receive the nourishment they require to grow “into real men who will be strong warriors” (155). They continue to ingest semen until they turn 15, at which point they become “the breast” for younger boys.
Listening to social and religious conservatives today, one would never know that third and fourth grade boys in the U.S. are not being taught to suck cock in public schools. What they are being taught, and in ways not entirely different from how the Sambia “represent to themselves symbolically the means by which they reproduce themselves socially,” is how to become proper Western men (156, emphasis original).
Halperin considers the 1953 Western movie Shane an example of a Western form of masculine transmission. The movie’s focus on the mechanics of masculine reproduction makes it a standout Western (157).
Shane is about how a 9-year-old boy, Joey, is made into a man (i.e., taught how to shoot a gun and fight) by a mysterious stranger, “a gunfighter and a killer” (i.e., a social deviant), a cowboy named Shane (158). Joey’s father cannot teach Joey how to become a man because he is too busy managing and defending the family farm. For obvious reasons, Joey’s mother can’t possibly teach him how to become a man.
Halperin compares Shane to the Holy Ghost. “It is only when Shane’s potent shadow falls across the holy American family that the family succeeds in . . . reproducing masculinity . . . and ensuring its own futurity” (159–for my reading of the Holy Ghost, go here). And “[g]unfighting in Shane is,” Halperin observes, “like cock-sucking among the Sambia: both are cultural practices connected with initiation into the symbolic order of masculinity and heavily laden with phallic meaning” (160).
The relationship between Shane and Joey mirrors the relationship between Shane and Joey’s mother, Marian. It is not sexual, but it is erotic. Marian wants to play with Shane’s pistol, too.
Like his mother, Joey feels some kind of way about Shane. In desiring him, Joey gives Shane the “charismatic power necessary to enable those enamored of him (Joey and male viewers) to accede to manhood by means of identification, emulation, and endless, unfulfilled desire for him” (160).
Moreover, Joey’s desire for Shane is no accident. Like Socrates, Shane has a way with his young male students (160-161). Shane makes his manhood hot to both Marian and Joey (= it’s object a). He inspires Joey (and male viewers) to observe his gunobsessively. Masculinity is transmitted “ocularly” in Shane (162).
In seeing/receiving Shane’s manhood, the male viewers “make the supposedly identity-affirming, gender-consolidating experience of masculine identification coincide, as if nothing could be more normal, with the urgent and inescapable solicitation of homoerotic desire” (162).
Question: Did Shane indoctrinate Joey? Did Shane require Joey to accept his warrior manhood uncritically to begin becoming a “real” man? No. Joey wanted the manhood Shane offered him.
Masculine indoctrination requires boys to accept Shane’s manhood as “biological truth.” In that way, Shane becomes the “proper” man, the kind of man boys must become to be considered real men, the type of man women must desire and whose prerogatives they must support to be identified as pious/conservative/real women.
Shane’s “Republican manhood,” if you will, undoubtedly continues to appeal to women/mothers and their boys. I accept that, and I am prepared to secure and defend a boy’s right to want Shane and to become a man who either desires women/mothers or other men who desire men like Shane.
There is nothing inherently wrong with conservative masculinity. That is, I think, a liberal (if not progressive) position to hold–and it is consistent with McBride’s–and my own–definition of maternal politics. “[A] mom has love every single one of her children.”
Apparently, dads have a choice in the matter.
What I reject is the fascist spirit that often animates a traditional education in straight maleness. Republican manhood is manifestly not appealing to every boy. It is not even appealing to every boy’s parents, and there is no reason to believe it will appeal to all who will enter a boy’s life as an adult male.
Moreover, it is an offense to common sense and reason (and I, as a biblical Christian theologian, think it is an offense to the gospel of Jesus Christ) to enforce, as a matter of (unacknowledged) policy or law, Republican manhood. If “biological truth” requires the enforcement of norms and/or the sword of law, just how biological–or true–is it?
The assertion of the biological truth of gender reveals that social and religious conservatives have, like a God, forgotten themselves:
For with the old Gods things came to an end long ago–and verily they had a good and joyful Gods’ end! Theirs was no mere “twilight” death–that is a lie!
Rather: one day they–laughed themselves to death!
This happened when the most godless words issued from a God himself–the words: “There is one God! Thou shalt have no other God before me!” . . . a God, most jealous, forgot himself thus:
And thereupon all the Gods laughed and rocked their chairs and shouted: “Is just this not Godliness, that there are Gods but no God?”
In a gloss on this passage, psychoanalyst Adam Phillips writes, “God, in Nietzsche’s fabulation, forgot Himself, and even His own name; He thought he was God, THE God, when He was simply one among many others (inner superiority means we are on the wrong track, it means we are too intimidated) (Unforbidden Pleasures [2015], 42).
In another text–but in a similar context–Halperin describes how the “inner superiority” of straight maleness may work out in the context of sexuality and gender, nowadays:
If homophobia sometimes functions less to oppress homosexuals than to police the behavior of heterosexuals and to strong-arm them into keeping one another strictly in line with the requirements of proper sex and gender norms, for fear of appearing queer [remember: declaring “no homo” after receiving, e.g., homie head will protect you from appearing (too) queer] it may be that one of the functions of transphobia is to police the behavior of lesbians and gay men and to terrorize them into conforming to the gender style deemed appropriate to their respective sexes (How To Be Gay [2012], 307, italics mine).
As we discovered earlier, the propagation of straight maleness can accommodate a disconnect between sex and sexuality. Nowadays, being a homosexual doesn’t necessarily make you a sus male (i.e., gaaaaaay).
The chronic misalignment of sex/penis (male) and normative gender style (straight maleness) does, however, remain socially problematic. At some point, one must put childish ways behind them.
At this point, straightness has shown a lot of ass. It concedes that heterosexuality is not natural. No one (bi, lesbian, gay, straight, none) knows what determines one’s sexuality (or lack thereof). It also concedes that straight maleness (i.e., normative masculinity) is not natural: it does not proceed naturally from having a penis. It must be taught (and even enforced).
And given that gender does not proceed naturally from sex or depend on one’s sexuality, it follows that anyone, of whatever sex or sexuality, can, if they so desire, learn a specific gender style. Women can, at least in principle, learn to embody normative masculinity.
What all this means is that the claim of straightness to have no other Gods before it is laughable. But the Gods before it need not laugh themselves to death! Instead, they can get on with baptizing newly persuaded converts.
The epigraph of How To Be Gay, a description of gay male masculinity, or masculinity that is gendered feminine because it is resistant to straight maleness, reads: “Let the pagans beget and the Christians baptize” (see also How To Be Gay, 532-533).
The epigraph of How To Be Gay echoes the central argument of Halperin’s essay, “Deviant Teaching”: The “introduction . . . to [non-sexual methods of instruction in maleness,] to non-standard ways of seeing, to distinctive ethical and aesthetic modes of relating to the surrounding culture, to a unique set of sensibilities, and to dissident ways of reading cultural objects (movies, opera, Broadway musicals, emblems of fashion and styles, embodiments of masculinity) [is] what I have been calling deviant teaching,” and what, in How To be Gay, is called gay male subculture (“Deviant Teaching,” 165).
Gay male subculture, as a deviant form of masculine propagation (i.e., it resists the allure of straight maleness), is similar to straight maleness in that it does not depend on either one’s sex or sexuality. It is a style that anyone who finds persuasive may learn to embody.
Gay maleness is among the gods a boy may reasonably desire. Accordingly, maternal politics entails defending and securing a boy’s right to become a man who desires women/mothers or other men who desire gayness.
As a non-normative gender style, a lifestyle misaligned with one’s sex, gayness is a form of Trans*ness (I use the * to indicate gender nonconformity in addition to sex nonconformity). However, Trans*ness moves us well beyond gender misalignment to sexual misalignment.
In her interview on Pod Save America, McBride addresses one of the challenges of Trans* politics (42 minutes in):
I think one of the challenges that we have in conversations around Trans identities that’s different than conversations around gay rights is that most people who are straight can understand what it feels like to love and to lust –and so they’re able to enter into conversations around sexual orientation with an analogous experience. People who aren’t Trans don’t know what it feels like to be Trans–and for me the closest thing that I can compare it to is a constant feeling of homesickness, just this unwavering ache in the pit of my stomach that would only go away when I could be seen and affirmed and live as myself . . . .
I imagine one reality that Rep. McBride is expressing here is that her body initially provoked a conversation: Is this you? She answered either “No” or “Not exactly.” I am guessing (because I am unfamiliar with the details of her experience) that McBride desired a new alignment of sex and gender–and one made possible by a radically new understanding of sex: sex, like gender, is not a natural fact. Sex is an opportunity for conversation rather than indoctrination.
Although Evangelical men really want women to have penises, male to female Trans* experience constitutes an upheaval of normative thought. It inspires intense—and, unfortunately, intensely irrational—emotions.
The animus directed toward Trans* women is a fruit of the fascist spirit that often underlies the commitment to the reproduction of Republican manhood–and one that more than a few fruits enjoy. We have only to think of Andrew Sullivan.
Sullivan is usually an interesting and nuanced public intellectual, but his screeds against “big trans” are becoming increasingly overdetermined (i.e., inspired by irrational forces). On a recent episode of Real Time with Bill Maher, Sullivan comments:
I love the idea that Democrats should get back into building things, into making things happen, into deregulating, into supercharging the economy. I just think that until the Democrats address some of the core issues, they seem not to want to control immigration. They have extremist views about race. They think that boys should compete with girls in sports, and that children should be… have their sex reassigned. Until they grapple with that. . . .
We have not taught civics in this country. They’re too busy learning that America is white supremacist without learning that there are three branches of government. They’re all separate. They’re kept apart so that we can be freer than other countries. Why are we teaching that? We should be teaching that (italics mine).
The claim that Democrats “think . . . that children should be . . . have their sex reassigned” is blatantly false. I am curious, though, about the Levitical themes of Sullivan’s commentary: separation and purity.
Sullivan seems to think biological males should not be separated from their penises–even when they desire to be so separated. In his view, effeminate gay boys are being misled by “big trans” into thinking they are Trans* women rather than gay males. “Big trans,” again in Sullivan’s view, is “transing away the gay.”
The second of Sullivan’s falsehoods, related, I think, to the first, is: “We have not taught civics in this country.” Sullivan seems to believe that “we” have not learned anything about the separation of powers–and too much about the separation of racial groups enforced by those same powers for several centuries.
Is his argument that “we” would become less preoccupied with white supremacy if “we” were taught the philosophy of “separate but equal”? If I am not mistaken, “we” were taught in school that Sullivan’s approach is not unique in history. Hence the focus on white supremacy.
I don’t think it’s uncharitable to read the argument of the unruly forces underlying Sullivan’s Leviticus-like political theology this way: In a good society, penises should remain attached to their original bodies; races, like the branches of the U.S. government (like the sexes?), should be separate but equal.
Maternal politics, at least as I understand it, entirely rejects Sullivan’s (unconscious) definition of a “good” society. Instead, it defends and secures a biological male’s right to discern who they are, really–including a woman/mother who desires women and/or men who desire a new alignment of sex and gender.
Maternal politics, as I understand it, is a form of deviant politics. Securing and defending the right of boys to become (wo)men who desire like women/mothers takes us into scandalous and fraught territory.
How do we talk about maternal politics across a range of issues that are important to our fellow citizens? In other words, how do we make it an electorally desirable politics? If we allow ourselves to have a real conversation about the political body, what is our answer to the question, Is this us?
If maternal politics appeals to us, it could be defined more broadly as taking public action(s) to secure and defend everyone’s right to have complicated conversations about the political body, especially now. Among the lessons Trump has (unknowingly) taught us is that we require a genuine upheaval of political thought.
“The common sort of men,” wrote Thomas Hobbes in Leviathan, “seldom speak insignificantly” (I.viii.27). Perhaps among Donald Trump’s more surprising achievements is proving Hobbes wrong. Today, the “common sort of men” often speak insignificantly.
By insignificant speech, Hobbes means a train of words without clear definitions or with contradictory definitions. Such are the words of “schoolmen”—especially Christian theologians (I.v.3). “Incorporeal body . . . , hypostatical, transubstantiate, consubstantiate, eternal-now” are, for Hobbes, a train of insignificant words (I.v.14).
This “stuff,” the speech of academics, is an expression of madness, “too much appearing passion,” or drunk speech (I.vii.23). The speech of a drunkard is noise.
It is hardly controversial to assert that Trump’s repertoire includes speaking insignificantly. So, his manifest hostility toward prestigious universities (e.g., Harvard) may be an expression of envy. He wants to own insignificant speech.
The original objects of Hobbes’s critique, those we know nowadays as the “liberal elite,” surely agree with my analysis: Trump’s speech is all too often insignificant. What the liberal elite may find inconvenient is the idea that “common men” enjoy Trump’s meaningless speech. Jealousy?
What’s the contemporary appeal of meaningless speech? Three ideas:
Academics/the elite have enjoyed the privilege of meaningless speech for decades—and they have looked down upon “common men” for just being too stupid to get it. Well, now it is the turn of “common men” to enjoy the privileges of speech sans the mathematics of reason. Revenge! Populism!
Insignificant speech is just everyday life. Contemporary social experience is filled with drunken speech, meaningless trains of words: “Hi, how are you?” “Well, thank you.” “And you?” “I’m fine.” Think also of “bandwidth,” “circle back,” “deep dive,” “pivot,” etc. And I have not even touched upon the au courant language of faith. Such speech keeps things moving–like elevator music.
It is also possible that Trump’s insignificant speech is a form of free association, a train of words without apparent or widely accepted meanings. So, it is unconscious speech: a welling-up of nature, the very thing from which the State was, according to Hobbes, created to save us. It is armor-piercing speech. In that case, Trump’s insignificant speech is our speech, too: another inconvenient truth.