Wednesday, December 1, 2010

slaves and animals

Although we’ve read many compelling analogies to the suffering of animals and various instances of human suffering, I found the slavery analogy in “Am I Blue?” to be somewhat unpersuasive. This objection occurs mostly in the passages referring to Blue’s partner. “The children next door explained that Blue’s partner had been “put with him” (the same expression that old people used, I had noticed, when speaking of an ancestor during slavery who had been impregnated by her owner) so that they could mate and she conceive” (613). These relationships seem to be borne out of financial necessity, with no romantic fulfillment whatsoever. However, it is advanced in the passage as if they are similar. The difference occurs when Blue actually receives fulfillment from the relationship, when he has “a look of independence, of self-possession, of inalienable horseness” (613). This is where the problem occurs. In order for the analogy to work, either the slave relationships are temporarily fulfilling or the horse’s relationship wasn’t. When delving deeper, it is also worth noting that the problem with the original slave relationship is the lack of autonomy in the first place. However, the narrator’s treatment of Blue’s relationship objects to the removal of the partner, instead of the lack of autonomy in their initial pairing. I think that there are more fundamental questions about the freedom of Blue that must be critiqued that provides a more ambivalent description of his relationship with the brown horse.


One quotation that I found interesting in the Spiegel passage is the usage of Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston. Hurston writes, “So de white man throw down de load and tell de nigger man tuh pick it up. He hand it to his womanfolks. De nigger woman is de mule uh de world so fur as Ah can see…” (635). In this passage, Hurston explicitly writes about the intersection of race and gender, which reminded me of many of our discussions that we have had in class (including the one last Tuesday). However, I’m not entirely sure how this applies to animals. If human beings, as animals, are able to develop oppressive attitudes towards other beings, do inter-animal hierarchies exist? Is it possible to theorize of other types of oppression that occur between various species (or in the intersection of species and another social category) that can be theorized in the context of the intersectionality that Hurston refers to? Could speciesism activists have their own second (or third) wave just as the feminists did themselves? I think that we have a lot of room to theorize about these possibilities in the humanities in the future.
zora neale hurston

Monday, November 29, 2010

being-with animals

While many have agreed to Fox’s claim that “every instance of this [patriarchal] linguistic practice brings us one step closer to an oppressive state,” I think it is important for us to be mindful of the author’s argument and not draw radical conclusions from the author’s observations. The author explicitly argues that “our language necessarily reflects a human-centered viewpoint more completely than a male-centered one” (589). The crucial verb in this sentence is ‘reflects’, implying that language is merely reflexive of preexisting social beliefs instead of actively producing the hierarchies that we are concerned with. Rather than these hierarchies being propagated through the language we use itself, instead they are the result of deeply invested mentalities and cultural beliefs that our language is merely symbolic of. I believe that Foucault is correct in noting that it is “necessary also to distinguish power relations from relationships of communication that transmit information by means of a language, a system of signs, or any other symbolic medium.” Just because “the production and circulation of elements of meaning can have as their objective or as their consequence certain results in the realm of power; the latter are not simply an aspect of the former” (Foucault 337). Wendy Brown implicates this by arguing that “moralistic reproaches to certain kinds of speech or argument kill critique not only by displacing it with arguments about abstract rights versus identity-bound injuries, but also by configuring political injustice and political righteousness as a problem of remarks, attitude, and speech rather than as a matter of historical, political-economic, and cultural formations of power” (Brown 30). By oversimplifying the problem of speciesism and patriarchy to mere rhetoric, we run the risk of trading off with genuine political progress. Moreover, this also implies that words have no authentic meaning. Foucault frequently writes of the ability to strategically reverse many power relations that exist, and I believe that the treatment of the word ‘foxy’ is an example of this. The example of the word “foxy” is given by the literature, with the author noting “the ambivalence of foxy lady. A man who labels a woman “foxy” admires her as stylish and attractive yet sees her largely as a sex object worth possessing” (588). This is not to say that words such as ‘bitch’ and other overtly derogatory terminology can ever have a positive connotation (although Lil Kim might beg to differ). However, I think that we need to be mindful of the mentality that shapes the language that we use instead of being asphyxiated with the language itself.


I found the inclusion of Alice in Wonderland in Derrida’s analysis on speciesism to be fascinating. The excerpts in the anthology were confusing to say the least. Derrida argues that it is impossible to presuppose certain relationships with animals “for I no longer know who I am (following) or who it is I am chasing, who is following me or hunting me” (598). Derrida approaches a reconfiguration with animals through a problematization of the Self. I think that Derrida is correct in focusing on a deeper interrogation. Contrary to the belief that Cartesian dualism is the cause of the exploitation of animals, Derrida believes that we need to look at something more intrinsic to the development of humans. Many argue that “Descartes internalized, within man, the dualism implicit in the human relation to animals. In dividing absolutely body from soul, he bequeathed the body to the laws of physics and mechanics, and, since animals were soulless, the animal was reduced to the model of a machine” (605). Derrida seeks to look past this arbitrary rise of speciesism and acknowledge that speciesism was likely borne out of pre-Enlightenment practices. Most confusing from the Derrida passage is his use of the famed Alice quotation regarding madness, “We’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad” (598). Out of context, it is pretty confusing to see how this is remotely relevant to Derrida’s argument. However, further reading of The Animal That Therefore I Am contextualizes this more. Derrida is attempting to undermine previous relations with animals in order to develop a new relationship with the Other. Derrida speaks from the “point of view of the absolute other, and nothing will have ever done more to make me think through this absolute alterity of the neighbor” (Derrida). After declaring one’s own madness, “I no longer know how to respond, or even to respond to the question that compels me or asks me who I am (following) or after whom I am (following), but am so as I am running” (Derrida). In doing so, Derrida is developing a new mode of Being with animals. Specifically, that is “Being after, being alongside, being near [pres] would appear as different modes of being, indeed of being-with. With the animal” (Derrida). While I admit, the Madness claims are still relatively abstract in this context, Derrida makes a little more sense. The declaration of one’s own Madness functions to dissolve the boundaries between animals and humans in order to develop a different mode of being-with animals. It is only through reconfiguring these relationships (as opposed to mere rhetoric) can hierarchies be challenged.

derrida


Wendy Brown. Politics Out Of History. Princeton University Press (2001): 30.

Jacques Derrida. The Animal That Therefore I Am. Fordham University Press (2008).

Michel Foucault. “The Subject and Power”. Power: Essential Works of Foucault Vol. 2. Ed. Colin Gordon.

Monday, November 22, 2010

western barbarism

Reading Kafka’s “A Report for an Academy” gave excellent context to earlier passages of Elizabeth Costello that directly refer to the short story and also about the most recent assigned reading. A particularly thought-provoking line of thought from Thomas O’Hearne revealed that the animal rights movement runs the risk of becoming “another Western crusade against the practices of the rest of the world, claiming universality for what are simply its own standards” (Coetzee 105). The delineation is subsequently made between treating animals compassionately because of an obligation to them or an obligation to ourselves. O’Hearne warns that “as long as we insist that we have access to an ethical universal to which other traditions are blind, and try to impose it on them by means of propaganda or even economic pressure, we are going to meet with resistance, and that resistance will be justified” (Coetzee 106). Although the animal rights movement would subsequently be defended as a worthwhile movement nonetheless, O’Hearne raises some important points. There is always a danger of imposing ideologies upon other individuals. This seems reminiscent of Red Peter’s proclamation that he has “attained the average education of a European” as a source of escaping the imprisonment of most animals (563). Literary analysis of this passage from Kafka argues that this comes at a high price, considering “Red Peter's claim to be human thus derives from his ability to invoke the "longtime corpse" of his animal being. To the extent that Red Peter learns how to inhabit a human body—by imbibing schnapps, for example—he is forced to give up the freedom of movement he formerly enjoyed as an animal” (Danta 729). However, Red Peter claims that it is not freedom that he seeks. Instead he merely seeks “a way out—to the right or left or anywhere at all” (560). Deleuze and Guattari read this passage as advocating that the “animal essence is the way out, the line of escape, even if it takes place in place, or in a cage” (Danta 729). Clearly these different perspectives paint an ambivalent picture of efforts to fight for animal rights. Imposing anthropocentric and Eurocentric values in any social movement could prove to be haphazard.

eurocentric epistemologies can skew world views


Although Elizabeth Costello wields fascinating comparative analysis between the poetry of Rilke and Hughes, I found myself focusing less upon Hughes’s poems and instead upon deciphering the meaning of Der Panther. Barranco’s translation caught my eye with the line, “Inside, a gigantic Will stands stunned and numb” (565). In an effort to determine why ‘Will’ is capitalized, I examined the original German translation. The line reads, “in der betäubt ein großer Wille steht” (564). Pending scrutiny from Spider, my understanding of Der Wille is having its origins in Wahl, which has a connotation of autonomy and determination. This can also be contextualized with other uses in German philosophical texts, such as Schopenhauer’s and Nietzsche’s diverse writings on Will. This seems to add deeper meaning to the poem than is suggested by the English translations, which has implications for the Panther’s entire Being.


The analogy between the Holocaust and slaughterhouses has been the subject of much writing. Theodor Adorno notes that “Auschwitz begins wherever someone looks at a slaughterhouse and thinks: they’re only animals” (570). Although many object that such an appropriation of the Holocaust trivializes the event, such critics must be mindful of Adorno’s other writings. One of Adorno’s most famous yet misunderstood claims is that the act of writing poetry after Auschwitz is barbaric. Rather than being read as a denial of the importance of art, Adorno’s claim should instead be understood as arguing that “not only would representation in aesthetic form as a matter of course shear away some of the horror, but the principle of aesthetic stylisation might attribute a sense of meaning to the fate of the victims in the sense that senseless mass murder would be given meaningful form” (Martin 9). It can be gathered from Adorno’s passionate reading of the Holocaust that his treatment of the event is far from trivial. Rather, Adorno’s somber treatment of such atrocities merely highlights the importance of Adorno’s comparisons with slaughterhouses. In the same way that Adorno fears the inadvertent attribution of meaning to the irrational violence of the Holocaust, no logical justification exists for the violence that is inflicted upon animals regularly.

adorno


Danta, Chris. “"Like a dog . . . like a lamb": Becoming Sacrificial Animal in Kafka and Coetzee”. New Literary History 38.4 (2007): 729.

Martin, Elaine. “Re-reading Adorno: The ‘after-Auschwitz’ Aporia”. Forum 2 (2006): 9.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

tears of the carnivore

The first viewing of Earthlings left me relatively skeptical. Although the documentary certainly succeeded in evoking emotion, it left me feeling empty-handed. The narrator observes, “ordinary human beings (not a few exceptionally cruel or heartless humans, but the overwhelming majority of people), take an active part in, acquiesce in, and allow their taxes to pay for practices that require the sacrifice of the most important interests of members of other species, in order to promote the most trivial interests of our own species.” The moral claim made by the documentary is very clear: everyone is complicit in this suffering. Even citizens who unknowingly fund this treatment of animals through their taxes are partially responsible for these problems. I couldn’t help but recall a passage from Pascal Bruckner’s book The Tears of the White Man, in which he describes the methods used by “the prophets of guilty conscience” to “con¬front us via the media with all the suffering of the human race, in the face of which the slightest gesture of generosity is an in¬adequate act of charity” (Bruckner 63). This has the potential to be life-negating, if one reaches the conclusion that “our very existence is an insult to the human race. We have only one duty—to wipe ourselves off the face of the earth.51 The future of the West is self-destruction” (Bruckner 66). Considering individual citizens have no control over how their taxes are distributed, much of the suffering seems to function solely to create feelings of guilt for the viewer. I’m not entirely convinced that being confronted with this suffering is necessarily useful when one has no avenues to alleviate the pain.

am i to blame for the status quo?
Recognizing one’s complicity in a system of hierarchies is not inherently life-negating, however. Lecturer in Politics at Goldsmiths College Saul Newman argues that it is only “by acknowledging that we come from the same world as power, not from a 'natural' world removed from it, and that we can never be entirely free from relations of power, that one can engage in politically-relevant strategies of resistance against power” (Newman 30). I feel like Newman’s analysis holds true to the subject of animal suffering and Earthlings. By making me feel complicit in the suffering of animals, Earthlings was not necessarily crossing any lines. However, I do not think that the documentary achieved a useful purpose by situating my complicity in aspects of power relations that I have no control over. Instead, by providing many specific political alternatives to the problems that they are criticizing, Earthlings had the opportunity to open up avenues of resistance. However, without a documentary that leaves room for resistance to the awful treatment of animals, it seems that a change in social consciousness will never achieve material change.
we must search for new political alternatives

Pascal Bruckner. The Tears of the White Man: Compassion As Contempt. 1986. pp. 63-66.

Saul Newman. “Anarchism and the Politics of Ressentiment”. Theory & Event 4:3. http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/theory_and_event/v004/4.3newman.html. Accessed: 17 November 2010.

becoming animal

When Elizabeth Costello mentions Thomas Nagel’s essay “What Is it Like to Be a Bat?” I couldn’t help but be reminded of the experiential learning exercises we conduct in class and how we attempt to view the world from the eyes of our spirit animal. In this lecture, Costello draws an important distinction. Instead of merely being an imagining of how a bat lives, “what we really aspire to know is what it is like to be a bat, as a bat is a bat; and that we can never accomplish because our minds are inadequate to the task – our minds are not bats’ minds” (Coetzee 76). I can associate this with my own experiences trying to learn from the spirit energy of the Mantis. Rather than merely learning from the behavioral tendencies of the Mantis, I instead attempt to empathize with what it is like to exist as a Mantis. In this way, I am drawing lessons from the Mantis’s Being. Wendy Doniger also notes that Nagel was not the first to propose this type of empathic imagination. “Xenophanes, an ancient Greek philosopher, said, “If cattle and horses or lions had hands, or could draw with their feet, horses would draw the forms of god like horses” (519). Many consider this line of thinking the inspiration of Deleuze and Guattari’s recent writings on identity, who argue that “nonidentity is not a deprivation, not a negative, but a form of micropolitics whose structure is molecular, where nonidentity is difference in itself unrelated to the bipolarity (the “bipolar machine”) of identity/difference” (Bruns 713). This seems equally reminiscent of Ram Dass’s advocacy of a nomadic Self that can respond to multiple instances of suffering. Clearly these instances of empathy have also been proposed by other thinkers, giving greater weight to their validity. One can’t help but see similarities between the arguments presented by Costello and Xenophanes and the type of ethical exercises we conduct in Bump’s class.

deleuze and guattari advocate a form of intellectual nomadism where we can 'become animal'

David Sztybel’s analysis of the comparison between the treatment of animals and the holocaust was also remarkably provocative. Sztybel refutes the argument that comparing slaughterhouses with Auschwitz trivializes the holocaust in an interesting manner. Sztybel proposes an ethical framework where all lives are viewed equally, thereby justifying this comparison through a utilitarian calculus. He says, “We kill approximately five billion mammals and birds annually in the United States alone” (549). It is worth noting that this is “many times the number of women and people of color in the United States” in order to draw a comparison between different political goals that the Left pursues in the public sphere (549). Most fascinating is the decision to seize a utilitarian calculus, which is so often used to justify the experimentation upon animals to help the human race generally. Instead of opponents of animal rights being able to use utilitarianism to justify their positions, animal ethicists are able to seize utilitarianism for their own political goals.



Gerald Bruns. “Becoming-animal (Some Simple Ways)”. New Literary History 38.4. 2007. Pages 703-720.

Monday, November 15, 2010

sadism

It’s somewhat difficult to draw the correct implication from the Stanford prison experiment. It is safe to say that the experiments reflect an inherent tendency in human nature, considering the experiment was conducted in a “mock prison in the basement of the Stanford psychology building” (486). Rather than being an examination of actual legal institutions, the experiment was merely a simulation of the different interpersonal relationships that many individuals have. The study concluded with the determination that “both prisoners and guards had become too grossly absorbed in their roles and terminated the experiment after six days” (486). This was due to the sadistic tendencies that many guards exhibited in their treatment of prisoners. It seems implied in the summary’s account of the experiment that the sadistic responses were the result of an inherent aspect of human nature that takes advantage of other human beings. The comparison to Abu Ghraib is particularly compelling, with the conductor of the Stanford experiment describing it as the result of “systemic problems of a formally established military incarceration system” (488). It is this comparison that I think makes the original Stanford experiment particularly useful. This is in line with analysis of Abu Ghraib provided by the social sciences, considering “Lynndie England was dubbed the ‘Trailer trash torturer,’ by British tabloids, while a reporter from the Daily Telegraph wrote that Americans were being shamed by ‘smirking jezebels from the Appalachians”” (Cowen). This discourse functioned as a “means of individualizing blame for US imperial violence, placing it at the feet of young rural soldiers” (Cowen). Only through recognizing that institutional roles have a tendency to create violence and abuse can we confront the types of roles that people play that could encourage them to exploit.
abu ghraib photos

Similar lessons can be learned from Hogarth’s “The Four Stages of Cruelty.” In this story, the killing of an animal initiated by boys is attributed to the “absence of parish officers,” implying that “one of the causes for the rising crime rate was the lack of care from the overseers of the poor, who were too often interested in the posts only for the social status and monetary rewards they could bring” (490). In some ways, this locates animal abuse as an institutional instead of personal problem. Just as the ultimate lesson of Abu Ghraib and the Stanford prison experiment was that certain institutional arrangements are uniquely conducive to exploitation and hierarchies, Hogarth uses emotional images to “heighten the fear for the audience” for the purpose of advocating certain political changes. The assigned reading even notes certain changes in common law as the result of the influence of Hogarth. The types of empathic connections established by Hogarth have also been supported by physical evidence. For example, many “brain-imaging studies have begun to reveal the physical evidence of empathy’s erosion” (501). This suggests that the belief that animal abuse is a natural human condition is relatively untrue, considering the brain has specific neurological pathways designed for empathy. The compassionate thoughts elicited by Hogarth’s writings can alter social consciousness, since the “mere act of thinking compassionate thoughts caused significant activity and physical changes in the brain’s empathic pathways” (501). Rather than resist the difficult nature of confronting the suffering of others, perhaps this can be a productive approach.
we must actively confront animal abuse


Deborah Cowen. “National Soldiers and the War on Cities.” Theory & event. 10.2: 2007.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

on vivisection

I must admit, it is tempting to embrace Lewis Carroll’s reading of vivisection as being the product of recent developments in the history of humanity. Carroll does a great job in the beginning of “Vivisection as a Sign of the Times” responding to any readers who might feel defensive when their long-accepted social practices are challenged. Critical of the reader who is shocked that individuals so “full of noble sentiments, can be hardhearted,” Carroll seems well aware of the gut reaction that many individuals have to the suffering of others (460). Reminiscent of Ram Dass’s observations on reactions to suffering, proponents of vivisection may “feel a little nervous and tentative, even defensive, about responding to the needs of others—particularly of those in considerable pain, who may make demands on us” (Dass 24). While Carroll does indeed penetrate the emotional depths of the problem, he does provide a problematic historical narrative to describe the problem. Carroll attributes the prominence of vivisection to the demise of a focus on religion and humanism, and instead the “development of the most refined religion of all—the worship of Self” (461). However, this treatment of animals traces long before the development of most major world religions and Enlightenment thought. Professor of philosophy Steven Best observes, “Hierarchy emerged with the rise of agricultural society some ten thousand years ago. In the shift from nomadic hunting and gathering bands to settled agricultural practices, humans began to establish their dominance over animals through “domestication.” In animal domestication (often a euphemism disguising coercion and cruelty), humans began to exploit animals for purposes such as obtaining food, milk, clothing, plowing, and transportation” (Best). Perhaps it would be more useful to historicize the development of animal abuse as something that has existed far longer than for a few centuries. The long-established psychological and emotional tendencies to degrade animals have existed in human beings for thousands of years, and only admitting the magnitude of the problem can mobilize the change of consciousness necessary to reverse such exploitation.


Robert Titus’s personal account of vivisection was certainly fascinating. However, his account of the silencing of opposition to vivisection in Victorian England was relatively incoherent. In the conclusion, Titus summarized the scientific community’s marginalization of vivisection opponents as being the result of the deployment of “an ad hominem argument” (480). However, it is unclear in the body of the essay what ad hominem argument Titus is referring to. He even concedes that scientists “fought to establish a “distinction between inflicting pain during ‘justifiable’ experiments and mere cruelty”” (475). This argument seems to beg for a utilitarian calculus when evaluating animal suffering, instead of functioning as an ad hominem argument. Although the essay later says that such anti-vivisection activists were silenced in the public sphere, the author draws comparisons between them and “feminists” and “labor activists” (475). However this comparison seems to disprove the validity of his ad hominem analysis, considering both feminists and labor activists made significant political gains post-19th century. I also feel like my objection is not mere semantics. In order to sufficiently advance a position against vivisection, it seems as if animal rights activists must grant a reasonable amount of legitimacy to the opposition’s argument. Admittedly, a strictly utilitarian perspective might justify the use of vivisection. Nevertheless, this is still a morally repugnant procedure to defend. As advocates of abstinence-only education seem to prove, advancing simplistic yet incorrect positions seems to only hurt political mobilization in the long run. It is worthwhile for animal rights activists to grant their opponents legitimacy while simultaneously refuting the meat of their arguments, rather than misarticulating them.


Steven Best. “Review of Charles Patterson, The Eternal Treblinka: Our Treatment of Animals and the Holocaust New York: Lantern Books, 2002, 280 pp.” Journal for Critical Animal Studies. Volume 5. Number 2.

Monday, November 8, 2010

critique of alice essays

There are a few problems with the arguments made in David Daniel’s essay on Alice. One section that I found particularly problematic was the analysis on Alice’s encounter with the Mouse. David asserts that the Mouse “understands both French and English” (444). However, after Alice uttered a question in French, “the Mouse gave a sudden leap out of the water” (Carroll). Despite this leap, the claim is never explicitly made that the mouse understood what Alice was saying. Rather, the Mouse could have merely been startled by any noise that it heard. Moreover, David Daniel connects this conversation to a broader claim that Alice is inconsiderate about the feelings of other individuals: “Alice demonstrates very quickly that she is unable to imagine what it is like to live in the world of the mouse, or indeed, any world but her own” (444). I feel like this claim is relatively unwarranted. The context of the conversation given by Lewis Carroll presents Alice as a more innocent character, with his description of her “soothing tone” of voice while she talks to the mouse (Carroll). Moreover, the Mouse later claims that he will tell Alice his “history, and you'll understand why it is I hate cats and dogs” (Carroll). If Carroll was presenting an argument about whether or not Alice could empathize with the animal, it seems likely that the Mouse would attribute its hatred for cats and dogs to a natural relationship shared amongst all mice. Instead, the Mouse attributes this fear to a personal history, implying that it is reasonable for Alice to be unaware of the context of the Mouse’s dislike for cats and dogs. Because of this, it seems unfair to expect Alice to be aware of the Mouse’s dislike for cats or dogs.



There are also problems in Bump’s essay about Alice. When referring to the croquet scene, Bump likens the flamingo’s pain to the face of the Other as described by Levinas. This presents the ethical dilemma central to Carroll’s book, that the “face of the other says, “Don’t kill me.” (453). However, I believe that the invocation of Levinas’s understanding of ethics undercuts the broader critique of speciesism presented in the beginning of the essay, which alludes to the animal kingdom as being a component in a broader family that we are all members of. This all-inclusive form of ethics in the opening of the essay seems incompatible with being fixated on the face of the flamingo, considering Zizek argues that “every preempting of the Other in the guise of his face relegates the Third to the faceless background” (Zizek). After all, “justice as blind thus means that, precisely, it cannot be grounded in the relationship to the Other's face” (Zizek). It seems reasonable to assert that focusing ethics upon the face of the Other will always relegate the suffering of other entities into the background. While the animal’s suffering is viewed as an a priori issue, instances of environmental degradation and human poverty seem impossible to grasp with. In order to attain the type of familial ethical stance towards animals, it seems that ethics can not be situated around the shock and awe of an individual animal’s suffering. Instead, justice must truly be blind to alleviate the suffering of everyone.



Slavoj Zizek. “Smashing the neighbor’s face”. http://www.lacan.com/zizsmash.htm.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

accounts of dogs: similarities and dissimilarities

Rick Bass utilizes a fascinating approach when discussing his dog, Homer, in “The Odyssey.” Rather than attempting to inject humanizing traits into the behavior of the animal like many authors, Bass seems to have a greater focus upon the unique traits of the dog that make it distinct from humans. Homer’s abstract musings about life achieve this function. While Homer’s “owner” (note that Homer never refers to him as an owner) is showing Homer nostalgic places from his past, Homer describes it as a time “before he knew or dreamed us, and the way we would change his life—the way everything, each day, adds up to change your life, to steer it, turn it” (418). It is unclear whether the human views Homer’s influence upon his life in a similar way. Nonetheless, Homer’s unique perspective provides her with a unique characterization. She continues, “The best thing you can do about this is to take long naps and let it, the decay of life, go on past you, as if uninterested in you—though it is always interested” (418). I can’t help but recall our discussions about how each animal has unique characteristics that we can learn from. Homer’s napping is depicted as being a component of a broader life view that many dogs have. In this way, Rick Bass refrains from the temptation of reading human traits into dogs, and instead presents the unique traits that dogs possess and humans are lacking.



I also found many differences between “The Odyssey” and Jonae Chavez’s “A Ruff Life.” Where “The Odyssey” exemplifies the unique characteristics of dogs, it seems like “A Ruff Life” imagines dogs as being remarkably similar to humans with their emotions and thought process. The protagonist laments, “I run up to my fellow dog’s, but they just ignore me because their mom says, “Don’t talk to her, she can have rabies or bite you.” Why would someone think that of me?” (Chavez). The interactions between the two dogs is depicted as being remarkably similar to the types of interactions that exist between humans. As the account draws to a close, the narrator claims that “her mom puts a collar on me, and this time I won’t take it off” (Chavez). This action was justified by many human emotions that the dog performs. Moreover, the dog is depicted as desiring an owner to take care of it. This speculation from the author is vastly different from Rick Bass’s account, which places the dog and the owner on an equal playing field.

Monday, November 1, 2010

animals

The assigned readings provide a great amount of context for our viewing of Earthlings. Earthlings calls for a radical change about how we view the treatment of animals and our own complicity with the violence enacted upon them regularly. One argument frequently used to justify this treatment of animals is that the consumption of animals is natural. Humans are naturally suited to consume other animals. However, this argument is invalid considering many of our presuppositions about animals are formulated by outside sources. If our beliefs about animals are influenced by outside subjectivities, then outside institutions cause us to formulate our beliefs from birth. “When a system is entrenched, it is supported by every major institution in society, from medicine to education; chances are, your doctors and teachers didn’t encourage you to question whether meat is normal, natural, and necessary” (374). The presumption of eating meat is advanced in every realm of society. The example is given that the American Veterinary Medical Association, regarded as the “voice of the veterinary community,” endorsed “gestation crates, two-foot-wide stalls in which sows are confined during pregnancy” (374). This is another revealing example that shows how many of our institutions, even the normalized medical discourses that we see throughout our society, advance certain understandings about meat that may or may not be natural. Instead, they are contingent upon the perspectives of institutions and the sway they hold over us as we engage in political socialization.




The readings also provide other insight to how we should respond to Earthlings. Earthlings functioned to problematize the privileged role that humans have in society. It can be argued that “if we no longer feel entitled to kill and consume animals, our identity as human beings comes into question. Witnessing compels us to view ourselves as strands in the web of life, rather than as standing at the apex of the so-called food chain” (391). However, it is easy to feel uncomfortable with such a realization. If we no longer have the privileged anthropocentric position on the food chain that we previously did, our very existence comes into question. Denial is also another common response to Earthlings. Much of this denial can be explained in psychoanalytic terms as an attempt to justify the status quo that we associate ourselves with. “Freud explains that we attempt to detach ourselves from reality by the use of denial,” and this claim is especially applicable to the issue of eating meat (400). If one were to refuse to eat meat after watching Earthlings, they are responsible for the murder of many animals over the past several years in their new ethical viewpoint. The fear of feeling such despair causes us to develop many psychological coping mechanisms. The only proper way to prevent such a knee-jerk response is by being willing to feel complicit in the violence of animals. It is only by feeling more comfortable with this feeling of pain can we genuinely question our ethical engagement with the animal kingdom.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

ram dass ii: this time it's serious

Our adventures in world literature have taught me a significant amount about listening. Between our meditation activities and also the many discussions we’ve had during class, it has always been emphasized that we should listen to those around us more carefully. To limit ourselves to only our own solutions to problems forecloses the opportunity to benefit from the wisdom of one’s peers. There have been many times in the past two months that I’ve benefited greatly from the thoughts shared to me by my friends in Austin. Ram Dass puts it best when he says that, “as we listen with a quiet mind, there is so much we hear” (111). Ram Dass also believes that we should be attentive to the thoughts and emotions of others around us. The best way to confront suffering is to reveal an honest portrayal of the phenomenon.

i learned how to listen to others


I have been exposed to a greater sense of community since I have arrived in Austin, as well. Living in the dorm, I have found myself more dependent on others for my daily necessities than I have ever previously encountered. Countless times I have failed to purchase flash drives, gotten horrendously sick on Thursday nights, and squandered hours at the bowling alley. Nevertheless, the bonds of friendship that I have formed have helped me persevere. Truly “intimacy is what we're looking for, and it's often there to be found in a helping relationship” (126). Encountering these new relationships has presented realizations about my relationship with my own suffering. Rather than deny that I am in need of assistance, I should refrain from hiding behind “false facades of courage or self-sufficiency” and instead take a more humble posture (136). After all, I have willingly bailed my friends out of their awful decisions many times myself.

sometimes i was sick on friday mornings

Monday, October 18, 2010

There has been a lot of great discussion regarding the explicit messages conveyed by Ram Dass. However, one thing that I found interesting in How Can I Help? was the implicit arguments made by Ram Dass. On an abstract level, it is telling that Ram Dass chose to respond to suffering on an individual level instead of in a broad sense. Many political and philosophical books have been written about the response to suffering on a macro level, proposing solutions to the suffering resulting from the alienation of labor, political disenfranchisement, and material deprivation. While this literature is extensive, Dass makes the decision to focus on different solutions to suffering other than structural change.

Marx searched for structural changes to alleviate suffering

Dass acknowledges the expectation for the “government to relieve suffering” (10). At the same time, Dass also finds that such an expectation is too narrow of a scope to find solutions to the problem of suffering. Dass notes that while governments implement policies that cause suffering, any individual politician would “probably do everything he could, faced with one starving child” (10). Dass is effectually deconstructing the State as an institution comprised of individuals with their own agency to relieve minute instances of suffering. Dass’s reconfiguration of the question of agency to relieve suffering enables each person to alter suffering in their own way.

Charity and service can result from deeper connections with suffering

Some of the Dass passages also relate to the concept of compassion fatigue that many of us discussed in a previous Facebook discussion. We mentioned previously that compassion fatigue causes individuals to respond less and less to the proliferation of images of people suffering. Dass notes that being confronted with suffering sometimes triggers off “an almost morbid fascination. We continually feed ourselves, through newspapers, soap operas, tragedies, and gossip with images of suffering” (55). However, Dass actually offers a solution to the problem of compassion fatigue. He believes that instead we can confront our own relationship to suffering which ultimately frames the way that we approach the suffering of others. By having a different perception of suffering, we can “look anew at how each situation can teach us, how it can help us evolve in our ability to confront and help alleviate suffering” (72). This was one thing that I really appreciated about the Dass book. It genuinely attempted to find solutions to problems that it’s difficult to even conceive of solutions to respond with.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

emotional intelligence

I found the passage about emotional intelligence to be particularly compelling. Society places a significant amount of emphasis on measurable forms of intelligence in its educational institutions and on a personal level. We seem to be inundated with the importance of SATs, ACTs, LSATs, and MCATs while other important forms of education are placed on the backburner. Indeed, all of the decisions that we make in life are "determined by both," "it is not just IQ, but emotional intelligence that matters" (334). It seems that all of our actions are determined by our understandings of emotions. It is worth noting the "power of emotions to disrupt thinking itself" (333) which means that we should have a type of focus on emotional intelligence so thinking is disrupted in ways that are good instead of bad. I also felt like the author's attempts to eliminate the dichotomy between reason and emotion was also useful. Creating a paradigm that "harmonize[s] head and heart" has the benefit of taking all perspectives about a matter into account (335). I think that it would be useful for individuals in society as a whole to move past previous understandings of giving preference to reason over emotion and instead to take both aspects in account equally.

standardized testing


Compassion fatigue is a phenomenon where indifference is developed "towards the suffering of others" as a result of being surrounded by too many depictions to such suffering (347). Many cultural theorists have found compassion fatigue to be particularly problematic as humanitarian groups attempt to raise funds to donate towards impoverished people who are suffering. However, I think that this approach to humanitarianism is somewhat nihilistic. If we are constantly afraid of pushing humans' compassion to the fringe, then it seems that the battle has already been lost. The valid concern of compassion fatigue hindering the ability for people to donate moneys to humanitarian foundations is somewhat resolved by later passages about sympathy. Literature distinguishes sympathy from compassion as the attempt to develop an "imaginative understanding of the nature of others" and the "power of putting ourselves in their place" (350). The problem of compassion fatigue should not be read as a call to reject humanitarianism, but instead should push us to understand deeper forms of emotional intelligence and create a personal ethics that is founded upon this new belief. Compassion fatigue seems pretty impossible in a world where one engages in the type of sympathetic approach that the liteature suggests.

images such as these create compassion fatigue

Monday, October 11, 2010

p2

    Although the University of Texas emphasizes the ability for their incoming freshman to achieve a rebirth, Texas has already granted me a rebirth in my past. In the summer of 2008 I attended the University of Texas National Institute of Forensics as an incoming junior. While there is a diverse array of debate camps to choose from across the country, the UTNIF is renowned for pushing the limits in argumentative style. Rather than solely trying to improve the debaters’ win/loss record, the institute emphasized drawing deeper connections with the arguments presented in debate rounds. Generally opposed to the sophistry prevalent in high school speech and debate, the instructors at the UTNIF encouraged debaters to research major philosophical thinkers and deploy their beliefs within a debate round. The personal emancipation that the instructors enlightened me to has sparked my own desire to continue to teach similar lessons to younger debaters.
    Early on in my own participation in speech and debate, I had many instructors who were excellent and teaching me how to win. A common expectation advanced throughout the debate community is that arguments should be approached strategically. While certain teams might advance arguments condemning patriarchal relations that oppress women, a valid response to such arguments could include morally repugnant justifications of patriarchy. Debate rounds are won frequently on arguments with Malthusian, imperialistic, and even implicitly racist assumptions. Despite the extensive amounts of research and persuasive technique exhibited by such hypothetical victors, I have always felt that there is something missing in such an approach to debate. While it is obviously not necessary to intimately believe in every warrant advanced in a speech delivered in a debate round, an approach to debate that creates unique disincentives to defending personal advocacies in favor of more strategic yet less genuine arguments is untenable. Approaches to debate should be fostered that leave room for connecting advocacies to personal agency. Similar to how methods of experiential learning “make the value of education more obvious because you begin connecting information to the “real world””.1 Due to these personal observations, I quickly became disenchanted with the ideologues who emphasized a separation between personal beliefs and positions defended.
    The aforementioned severance was conducive to giving the progressive instructors at the UTNIF a highly influential role in my own development. A significant amount of my time at UTNIF was spent studying the thoughts of Martin Heidegger. Heidegger’s 1953 essay “The Question Concerning Technology” reorients philosophy from being primarily concerned with how to one thinks about action and instead with how one thinks about thinking. In the face of the suicidal drive of modern technological thought, Heidegger advocates incorporating meditative modes of thought into one’s ontology. While there are certainly problems in this world that require immediate action, Heidegger suggests that many more problems are caused by a rush to action without proper reflective inquiry. Such an approach can be aggravating, especially “if we still believe that thinking’s only real purpose is to function as a prelude to action,” which will leave us “feeling nothing but frustration, unable to conceive of ourselves as anything but paralyzed.”2 Although this might be a difficult obstacle to overcome, the end result is certainly worthwhile. This approach to philosophy introduced by Heidegger directly applied to the revelations that the UTNIF gave me in my approach to speech and debate. Because my own personal ontological inquiries became a high priority, debate quickly became a brilliant outlet for my own development. It was through the implementation of Heidegger’s philosophy in debate that the UTNIF instructors affected my personal views of debate.
    These lessons taught to me in Austin remained with me throughout my junior and senior year of high school. Senior year was a time of great existential questioning as I filled out college applications and wrote many essays. As college approached, I was forced to consciously consider what my future career was going to be. My previous experience in speech and debate had made me painfully aware of countless struggles constantly occurring across the globe. My declared major in college would inevitably be conducive to personally influencing a social issue of concern. Although I was resolved to make my choice in career a means to a higher end, determining the proper methodology to use to combat social injustice was particularly problematic. The structural conditions that lock individuals into social hierarchies are largely irreversible by a single individual. This depressing realization forced me to consider prioritizing certain struggles that I would align myself with. When determining how best to use my labor to benefit other individuals, I had no other criterion with which to base priorities upon besides my own personal experience. Remembering the emancipation found through intellectual inquiry taught to me at the UTNIF the previous year, I realized my own personal contentment derived from personal growth instead of a mere shift in material conditions. Such a freedom is inherently derived from the immaterial. Because my own path to emancipation was paved with intellectual enlightenment alone, I was left with no other choice but to lay similar stones for others to follow. While it might be difficult to quantify the impact that an inherently immaterial methodology would have on others, I was inevitably more intimately connected with such a struggle than any other political outlet predicated upon a material struggle that I have not personally experienced.
    My passion for debate provides the perfect means for me to cause other individuals to question their presuppositions in a similar manner. Because of the objective and creative nature of debate, competitors are encouraged to research and create their own unique arguments and utilize the laboratory of the debate round to discover how different arguments interact. More importantly, debaters have the opportunity to defend positions that they personally believe in and teach other competitors about distinct material struggles. This increase about awareness of certain issues translates into interest and activism towards solutions to the particular problem. However, using my influence to strictly increase participation in debate is insufficient. The instructors at UTNIF that sparked my own passion for debate taught me that debate only reaches its full potential when it is pushed to the limits of intellectual inquiry. When debaters can advance positions that they fundamentally believe in instead of falling prey to the sophistry that characterizes debate, the competitors can thereby situated their arguments in a broader context of social struggle. This creation of intrinsic meaning for individual advocacies allows the debate round to become a space for the advancement of personal ethical beliefs.

unique opportunities of debate

    This endeavor is not an end in itself. Preserving public spaces for the democratic contestation of ideas is integral to maintaining freedom within American society. Professor of Cultural Studies at McMaster University Henry Giroux notes in his 2006 essay “Reading Hurricane Katrina” that any resistance to social injustice is impossible when a public sphere does not exist to allow citizens to genuinely consider different political ideas. Giroux writes that we should foster the “creation of a vast network of democratic public spheres such as schools and the alternative media in order to develop new models of individual and social agency that can expand and deepen the reality of democratic public life.”3 By ensuring the emancipatory potential of speech and debate programs in high schools across the United States, such a democratic network of the exchange of ideas is thereby created. This conclusion allows me to connect my own passion for my involvement in high school speech and debate to broader material struggles. Without ensuring that the free exchange of ideas is maintained throughout the nation’s youth (that is not manipulated by corporate or governmental influence on ideas), the hearts and minds behind any future social struggle will never be passionate enough themselves. It would seem safe to conclude that maintaining speech and debate as a public sphere free of outside control is a perquisite to the vitality of American democratic culture.
    My passion for speech and debate as an outlet for expressing certain political beliefs directly translates into influencing the way that others approach speech and debate. In some ways, the indebtedness that I feel towards the instructors at UTNIF for opening my mind years ago only feels resolved when I am able to pass a similar gift onto others. Fortunately, I have several ways to influence high school speech and debate as a college student. Many local Austin high schools host speech and debate tournaments on the weekends that require judges. As a judge, I am able offer encouragement and advice to competitors. Moreover, I am currently involved in coaching several debaters at a local high school. By helping the students learn how to research arguments and also injecting my own personal views on debate, I am able to ensure that the activity is approached in a manner that is conducive to a genuine exchange of ideas. It is also encouraging to note that my passion for sparking intellectual inquiry within others is not relegated to the speech and debate world. I have considered pursuing a future career in teaching as a result of my recent reflection on what constitutes my passion. Even maintaining any involvement with the academy would allow me to pursue encouraging others to take the pedagogical stances that can provide a sense of freedom.

1 Bump, Jerome. Course Anthology. Page 45.

2 Ladelle McWhorter. Assistant Professor of Philosophy at Northeast Missouri State University. “Guilt as Management Technology: A Call to Heideggerian Reflection.” Heidegger and the Earth: Essays in Environmental Philosophy. 1992. pp. 3-9

3 Henry Giroux. Global TV Network Chair Professorship at McMaster University in the English and Cultural Studies Department. “Reading Hurricane Katrina: Race, Class, and the Biopolitics of Disposability.” College Literature. 33.3: Summer 2006.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

covey

These past couple of weeks I’ve had biology on my mind. We had our first biology test recently, so I’ve been studying the functioning of many biological processes in our ecosystem(s). Covey’s claim about how we must relate to the interdependent “world every day” whether we like it or not seems to be in line with the thesis advanced by many biodiversity theorists in biology (51). This is a more significant conclusion than it appears. Covey borders on a hippie’s pipe dream when he describes us as being in “harmony with the natural laws of growth” (52). The fact that this thesis actually has scientific grounding suggests that Covey might actually be onto something. And this is not merely the perception of conservationists in the field. Even Major David Diner warns in the 1994 edition of the Military Law Review that “humans have artificially simplified may ecosystems” (Diner). “Theoretically, each new animal or plant extinction, with all its dimly perceived and intertwined affects, could cause total ecosystem collapse and human extinction. Each new extinction increases the risk of disaster. Like a mechanic removing, one by one, the rivets from an aircraft’s wings, n80 [hu]mankind may be edging closer to the abyss” (Diner). Even the academics associated with the military, despite their occasionally narrow focus, posit that interdependence may be an integral aspect of the human condition.

edging closer to the abyss


Another fascinating passage that I found in the Covey readings related to language. Covey indicts “reactive language” as becoming a “self-fulfilling prophecy” (79). Reactive language causes people to become reinforced in “the paradigm that they are determined, and they produce evidence to support the belief” (79). Although Covey is obviously discussing these issues in the context of self-help, I can’t help but connect this thought to a conversation that I coincidentally had in Bump’s office today. When I walked in for office hours, Sonali was actually describing the scope of her Project 2 essay and her passions in the area of feminism. One thing that she considered writing about was gendered language and how the male/female binary entrenched within language reproduces gender norms in society (I hope I’m not in trouble for the spoilers on her paper). Although a slightly different but still intimately related thought, many of the writings in Judith Butler’s famed book Gender Trouble also reflect a focus on language. Butler’s primarily concerned with the focus on a static category of “women” that characterizes feminist politics in the 21st century. She calls for an investigation of our presuppositions about representations and understandings of women in order to avoid silencing any voices that might not directly align with traditional understandings of females. Both Sonali and Butler seem to support Covey’s argument that we could fall into dangerous traps because of the language that we use. Covey’s application of these theoretical thoughts to our approach to everyday life (and love, in the example he gives) seem to be relevant. Taking proactive control of one’s language can provide new paths to emancipation previously thought to be impossible.

personal constitution


I did find some of Covey’s advice problematic. Covey advocates the development of a “personal mission statement” similar to a “personal constitution” (107). He proceeds to develop an extended analogy by noting that the United States Constitution has remained “fundamentally changeless” since the creation of the country (107). Covey believes that such a personal statement can be the “basis for making major, life-directing decisions” and can empower “individuals with the same timeless strength in the midst of change” (108). After all, “people can’t live with change if there’s not a changeless core inside them” (108). While Covey’s archaic representation of power remains “under the spell of monarch” and clings to images of power-law traced out by “theoreticians of right and the monarchic institution,” I actually think it’s more important to object to Covey on a personal level (Foucault). From my own personal experiences, I’ve found that the most radical changes to my personal views on life have been the most beneficial. Indeed, if I had developed a personal constitution just a year ago, it would be radically different from the ‘constitution’ that I live my life by now. I instead think it’s more useful to have your own personal roadmap in life constantly in flux. It seems that any change is going to merely be reformist unless one is willing to genuinely allow radical thoughts change their core. I also don’t think having a grounding in a world view prevents the implementation of Covey’s other recommendations. Nevertheless, Covey offers great insight for the most part, and I look forward to discussing this book with the class tomorrow.




Works Cited

David N. Diner. Major and Judge Advocate in the General’s Corps. “The Army and the Endangered Species Act: Who’s Endangering Whom?” 143 Mil. L. Rev. 161. Winter 1994. Lexis.


Michel Foucault. The History of Sexuality: Volume 1. 1978. pp. 88-91

Monday, October 4, 2010

pedgagoy cont'd

This liberal arts education can have great potential to change society. Education is seen as an attempt to foster cooperation within society. As a result of this paradigm shift, the civilized life of the university is no longer lived "alone but in concert" (293). Creative thought and innovative developments, previously considered to be the halmark of profit-motive driven forms of education (the benefits of Microsoft's profit margins for us all) are instead rejected in favor of creative thought that benefits society (the developments of open source Linux software, as a counter-example).

pedagogy and the public sphere

Education is in a crisis. Professor of Media at McMaster University Henry Grioux argues in his 2008 article entitled “The Militarization of US Higher Education after 9/11” that neoliberalism has caused education to increasingly focus upon producing productive members for the global workforce while uniquely foreclosing the opportunity to view education as an end in itself. The influence of neoliberalism upon higher education has distorted the focus of curriculum to be oriented towards profit motives instead of towards the genuine appreciation of knowledge or the empowering of society as a whole. The only solution to this problem is to “reclaim higher education as a democratic public sphere, one that provides the pedagogical conditions for students to become critical agents who connect learning to expanding and deepening the struggle for genuine democratization” (Giroux). I personally feel like much of the literature in the assigned reading this past few weekend is focused on a vision of liberal arts education that can achieve many of the goals articulated by Henry Giroux.

Henry Giroux at his finest



A passage in the anthology notes that the purpose of experiential learning is to “make the value of education more obvious because you begin connecting information to the “real world.”” (45). It inherently connects the value of education towards real life struggles that are occurring in the status quo instead of future job opportunities that might improve the country’s GDP. Experiential learning is inherently more organic, and I feel like it translates to more direct benefits to society. This goal for thought is a process that tries to move “an individual to membership in a community; so a thought, begun in the seminary of a single mind, participates in the construction of a citadel of living ideas, of a life organic and yet shaped” (293). This is clearly the purpose of a liberal arts education. Similar to lots of the focus on animals and ethics that we have in Bump’s class, we are trying to connect our thinking with broader notions of empathy and acknowledgement of the material struggle of others. Liberal arts education fundamentally changes the paradigm of thought so that it is oriented towards more ethical goals instead of merely self-interest.




we don't want education to be focused on this

One other problem that I feel like exists with many normal modes of education is what I like to call “thinking in islands” instead of holistically. The separation of different modes of thought into different classes and departments makes it seem like knowledge exists in isolated spheres. However, knowledge is simply the attempt to discover and describe the world. all forms of knowledge inherently compliment each other. Interdisciplinary forms of knowledge function to “unsettle the boundary lines between science and science, to disturb their action, to destroy the harmony which binds them together. Such a proceeding will have a corresponding effect when introduced into a place of education. There is no science but tells a different tale, when viewed as a portion of a whole, from what it is likely to suggest when taken by itself, without the safeguard, as I may call it, of others” (288).  Rather than understanding instances of physics or biology as separate, all of these modes of thought are very intimately related with each other. I feel like the interdisciplinary focus of Plan II and of liberal arts education in general provides a more holistic, and thereby more accurate, world view. The quest for knowledge is situated in a more ethical manner this way.



Henry Giroux. 2008. “The Militarization of US Higher Education after 9/11”. Theory, Culture & Society. Pages 58-59.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Alice in Austin

My arrival at UT has functioned as somewhat of a rebirth to me. Whether this is an authentic emotion or partially influenced by Bump’s constant references to a feeling of rebirth, this has still been something bery important to me. College is an opportunity to redefine yourself and shut the doors on the skeletons in your closet. In some ways, I am able to view myself as a child ready to grow up once again. I could probably even tie this perception to a few influential religious beliefs that I have encountered in my life. Having been raised Lutheran, I subscribed to the belief that you are reborn everyday for your sins. Rather than being forced to be perpetually stigmatized for your decisions, I am able to repent and take my life in a new direction. Despite having liked this principle of the religion, I still eventually grew to have many disagreements. It was at this time that I was exposed to many continental philosophers who pointed to new paths in ethics that are not inspired by one sole religious belief. But nevertheless, I believe that as my extremely ethical views progress I will always have the ability to ‘reset’ and begin my life anew.

thoughts floating in my brain




In this same token, college provides a unique opportunity to do this. While this type of rebirth may be positive, it sometimes feels like there is a dark underside to my existence. This is somewhat reminiscent of Alice, who at her core there “also lies a tale of angst and the darker aspects of the story have often been commented on” (198). Even Professor of English at Ryukoku University John Dougill notes that “in the progress for Wonderland the young rectory boy/girl exhibits all of the culture shocks of a freshman transposed from home and dropped into college life.” (199). Because of this, I have always found it fascinating that Lewis Carroll strives for portraying the innocence of childhood while also incorporating darker elements into the story. It’s almost as if he’s trying to emphasize that no pure birth can ever occur. As a result, I can’t help but be wary about my experiences that I will face.

rebirth

Monday, September 20, 2010

The Praying Mantis: Power in Patience

Carl Fitz
World Lit – Bump
September 20, 2010
The Praying Mantis: Power in Patience
    In an ancient Egyptian passage hailing the mystical powers of the praying mantis, the author addresses the mantis, “Stable art thou, O mighty god, for even, Make thou for me a path upon which I may pursue my course” (Prete and Wolfe 97). The praying mantis has existed as a totem animal for cultures throughout the history of humanity, including ancient Egyptian, Chinese, and Indian societies. Although their depictions of the praying mantis sometimes vary, prevalent themes of the animal’s power include its patience and wisdom. As I have meditated about my relationship with the praying mantis in recent weeks, I have found that both of the aforementioned traits have played and continue to play integral roles in my life. Channeling the energy of the praying mantis allows me to unlock patience, wisdom, and power in my life.


    The praying mantis has held meaning for many humans over the course of history. One understanding of the praying mantis that I have found particularly compelling is the Kalahari Bushmens’ conception of the praying mantis. Animal educator Ted Andrews writes in his 1993 book Animal-Speak that “to the Kalihari Bushmen of Africa, Mantis was a Bushmen,” and “whenever Mantis got himself into trouble, he would go off and hide. He would then go to sleep and dream a solution to his problem” (Andrews 343). Although the praying mantis is physically smaller than humans, the Kalahari Bushmen still found them to be powerful in their own unique manner. This power was considered significant enough for groups of Bushmen to personally identify with the animal. The praying mantis offered the Kalahari Bushmen a specific roadmap for how to confront their problems. Rather than rush into action, it was believed that meditation and reflection allowed better solutions to problems to reveal themselves. This seems to imply that the power of thought can at times be more powerful than brute force. Such a conclusion is intimately related to the mantis’s being, considering the very word mantis is derived from a Greek word meaning prophet (Andrews 343). Upon the arrival of this conclusion, makes sense that many Kalahari Bushmen personally identified with the praying mantis despite its tiny stature. Rather than being oriented towards the stature of the animal, the Bushmen observed the mantis’s behavior and became more powerful because of it.

    The Kalahari Bushmen also admired the silence of the praying mantis. I found this particularly striking considering I generally associate the ability to speak one’s mind with empowerment. Only though communication and persuasion does one have the ability to affect their surroundings. However, the Bushmen seem to use the praying mantis to provide a competing counter-narrative to this claim. In their view, the “ancient mystics spoke of seven levels of silence that can be used by us, the first being simple contemplation and the last being death. In between them are dimensions that can add tremendous power to our life. This is part of what the praying mantis teaches. It teaches how to still the outer, so that when it is time to act (in any form) it is done with surety, accuracy, and great power” (Andrews 343). For the Bushmen, empowerment comes through patience instead of action. While action is by no mean forbidden, it is to be taken with great consideration. By doing so, the infrequent actions taken are inspired by wisdom and confidence rather than folly. Silence is thereby conducive to informed actions. While speaking may be empowering, perhaps it is only through silence that the utterances of words can derive importance. The Bushmen’s counter-narrative about the praying mantis seems to convey the importance of patience in one’s life. This patience even functions to sustain the praying mantis’s existence. Observations of the praying mantis’s eating practices reveal that the mantis will “wait motionless, blending into its surroundings, then at the most opportune time, it will suddenly grasp its prey in its long forelegs which fold over its victim like closing a jackknife upon it” (344). For the praying mantis, patience is not merely a conscious choice. Rather, the mantis is physically designed to sustain itself through patience. While its long forelegs might not be the fastest method used to kill its prey, it is extremely effective when combined with the mantis’s camouflage and the element of surprise. In order to exist, the praying mantis must constantly exert patience even in its most starved state. Clearly the praying mantis can be read as exemplifying the value of patience.

    While the Kalahari Bushmen understand the praying mantis as a largely tranquil animal, this is vastly different from the praying mantis depicted in ancient Chinese culture. In ancient China, the praying mantis represented “strength, courage, and boldness” (Prete and Wolfe 95). An ancient Chinese folktale even states that the praying mantis was crushed by the weight of a bullock cart despite having no chance to stop the runaway cart (95). In this folktale, the praying mantis is portrayed as being so confident of his or her strength that he or she is killed as a result. Needless to say, this is in stark contrast with the Kalahari Bushmen’s praying mantis. This information could prove to be extremely problematic for any individual seeking to learn from the praying mantis as a totem animal. The advancing of seemingly contradictory views of the praying mantis could lead one to conclude that one society must simply be mistaken. However, further meditation and personal inquiry has led me to resolve this conundrum differently. The rest of this paper will be devoted to my attempt to explore the praying mantis’s power in response to this complication.
    I have found the multiplicity of perspectives on the praying mantis to make the insect an even more appealing totem animal that previously thought. This is primarily because I can personally relate to having conflicting priorities about one’s internal growth. Both of my parents were raised as traditional Lutherans who were soft-spoken and polite. The most lucid example of this that comes to mind is my uncle’s observation about my father that he doesn’t talk much, but when he does he has something important to say. While they obviously never look down upon people who talk freely, they simply personally choose to live their life a certain way. As a result, I was inclined to behave this way at a young age. This trajectory took a distinctly different course upon my joining of speech and debate. At its very core, the activity moralizes verbal expression to a dizzying degree. Bringing me out of my shell, I became comfortable speaking my mind regardless of whether or not they might offend those around me. Sensitive to injustice in my surroundings, I found myself picking fights with teachers and administrators on a regular basis. After all, nothing wreaks of fascism more than a public high school. Although this sense of empowerment is ultimately a good thing, it can still result in a feeling of alienation at times. Perceived docility of those around me and increased hostility towards my parents caused me to feel uprooted from social interactions that I was previous grounded in. This internal conflict is extremely analogical to the conflict previously articulated about different social understandings of the praying mantis. While the praying mantis is at times depicted as being courageous and boastful, it is also understood as being a wise and patient creature. This type of thinking is also not out of line with traditional understandings of totemism. Even Ted Andrews argues that the spirit may be “of a being who uses the animal image to communicate messages of the world to humans” (Andrews 10). These similarities have led me to resolve to look to the praying mantis for solutions to these problems.
    Ultimately garnering the power of the praying mantis allows me to strike a balance between these conflicting influences upon my life. My admiration for the radical and unapologetic politics depicted in debate is just as strong as my admiration for my father as the wisest figure that I have met in my life. Coping with the development of subjectivities through a multiplicity of forces is hardly unique to me. Every individual is forced to find their place in response to a constant proliferation of contradictory world views and opinions. It is only through the power of the praying mantis that I understand that strength is important but dangerous. While the boastful mantis is crushed by a runaway cart, the cautiously powerful mantis successfully strikes its prey to live another day. While the overly timid mantis never catches its prey, the reflective mantis’s actions are influenced by its wisdom. By attempting to understand this power of balance and wisdom, I have been able to meditate on my own search for a balance between the influences of debate and of my parents.
    Clearly the praying mantis seems to be a fitting totem animal for my life. Not only does my attempt to seek the power of the praying mantis allow me to feel more connected with the energy of the animal itself, but it also opens up a new world of exploration into various cultures, political beliefs, and even teachings of my parents. As my life progresses, it is unclear what the praying mantis will teach me and whether or not I will eventually be chosen by another animal. Nevertheless, all signs seem to point to the relevancy of the praying mantis in my present life. I am only left to await the lessons that the praying mantis will teach as the year progresses.

Works Cited

Andrews, Ted. Animal Speak: The Spiritual & Magical Powers of Creatures Great & Small (2009): 10, 342-3.

Frederick Prete and Melissa Wolfe. “Religious supplicant, seductive cannibal, or reflex machine?     In search of the praying mantis”. Journal of the History of Biology. 1992: 95-7.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

suicidal thoughts

 "I wonder if I died, would tears come to her eyes?/Forgive me for my disrespect, forgive me for my lies" - Notorious B.I.G. ("Suicidal Thoughts")

Reports about suicide prevention will always have a very personal impact upon me. Two years ago, a close friend of mine committed suicide after battling drug and psychological problems for several months. Rather than being abstract studies about suicide, the reports in the anthology about suicide are automatically contextualized in my mind with this incident. Rather than being a spontaneous act of violence, I learned firsthand that “the vast majority of suicidal people communicate their intention to kill themselves by showing warning signs” (154). In my incident, the victim even explicitly told others about his intention to commit suicide. However, sufficient actions were not taken to prevent the tragedy.

Until recently, I felt relatively alone about my experience. While everyone else in my graduating class certainly understands my experience firsthand, it has been easy for me to think that others that I have subsequently encountered in recent years have not faced similar tragedies. However, the discussion that I had with Professor Bump and many of my classmates at dinner before the Plan II convocation altered this perception. Many of us discussed people that we had known that either committed suicide or seriously considered it. It seems that the problems of depression and suicide are stigmatized, with blame being displaced upon the victim. Although depression can sometimes be the result of one’s choices, uncontrollable psychological elements and other external tragedies are also frequently to blame. The voices of those suffering are pushed to the periphery, and I’m left to wonder how many suicides could be prevented if everyone was able to have as candid of a discussion about the topic as occurred at dinner that evening.




although this poster was originally used for HIV/AIDS, these campaigns should expand to psychological disorders, as well



On a lighter note, I found the parable of the South Indian Monkey Trap to be quite engaging and persuasive. Using a hollowed-out coconut, villagers placed “rice inside which can be seen through a small hole” that is “just big enough so that the monkey can put his hand in, but too small for his fist to come out after he has grabbed the rice” (167). Most fascinating about this parable is that it seems to suggest that ambition is an extremely common trait in biological entities. Not merely relegated to humans, this trap proves that monkeys can be just as overly ambitious as humans tend to be. Although this trait isn’t inherently bad, the preceding analysis presented in blog posts indicates that it’s extremely dangerous. Such ambition could be a source of anxiety and depression.

lol monkeys