Blog cleaning

Hi all,

the purpose of this blog is in transition away from a collection of essays I wrote a long time ago toward a professional website.  I’m keeping a couple short posts up for now that are often visited, but they, too, will be removed soon unless I edit their content.

Coming soon: my CV, research interests, current projects, and possibly select lesson plans and exercises.

Regards,
Seth

24 hours in Boulder

Boulder! ...I didn't take this photo.

Hello all!

Now that I’ve officially moved out of Maine, I thought I’d update with a life post that chronicles my first day in Boulder, CO.

I flew into Denver in the early afternoon on August 1, boarded the AB skyride, and was on my way to Boulder.  All of this was unremarkable.  As I get off at my stop, however, I misstep on the bus, twisting my already crappy ankle.  Obscenities were uttered.  looks of concern from my fellow travelers were received.  I’m not sure if I actually heard a cracking sound or if the pain was so great my mind added sound effects, but it hurt a great deal.  The last time my ankle hurt worse than this was probably when I got hit by an oil truck and had the ankle shattered.  So I hop off the bus, fighting back tears of pain and frustration, get my luggage from under the bus, and hobble to a park bench where I can sit and assess the damage.

So I take off my shoe and sock and begin cradling my ankle like one might a baby.  It swells.  The pain continues for some time, so I sit and debate whether I should go to the hostel where I’m staying that night or the hospital.  Due to my lack of knowledge of Boulder and not knowing if my insurance would cover x-rays and everything in another state without a referral from my primary care physician, I decide on the hostel, intending to figure out my ankle tomorrow.  I walk (according to google maps) 0.4 miles to the hostel from the bus stop.  that walk (which, again according to google maps, should take less than 10 minutes) takes me 45 minutes, as I am practically hopping half a mile up hill with a backpack, laptop, and a suitcase.

Not until I was within 50 feet of the Hostel did someone offer me assistance, and I felt very angry at this city–at the bus driver who suggested I “take it easy” upon seeing that I had severely injured myself, at the people at the bus stop who wouldn’t look me in the eye for fear that I might ask them for help, at the pedestrians who passed me, going in the same direction as myself, without acknowledging my predicament and offering to lend me a hand, at everyone and everything associated with Boulder.  I was so angry that I declined assistance from the woman who offered me help just as I was getting to the Hostel; as irrational as it may be, I didn’t want to give the city the satisfaction.

Upon getting to the hostel, I check in and head up to my room.  I recruit a young man to lug my suitcase up the two flights of stairs to my room (because, although I was still feeling stubborn and defiant, there was no possible way I could have hopped up to the third floor with a 50 pound suitcase).  Just as I get into bed to better wallow in anger and self-pitty, the city’s sirens start going off.  For a moment I feel like the protagonist in an ancient Greek epic, fighting to achieve some end but ultimately at the mercy of the gods.  I decide that, whatever the sirens signify, I would stop fighting the divine forces I’d apparently angered by moving to Boulder.  Just as I resolved to be killed by a tornado, lightning bolt, flood, or flesh-eating locusts, however, I hear over the loudspeakers that the sirens were simply being tested.  I close my eyes to find my happy-place and (after talking to some friends and family, putting up with a bunch of assholes shooting off fireworks, and accepting that my room was going to stay in the 80s all night) eventually got to sleep.

Things began to turn around the next morning.  I grabbed a cup of coffee and egg & cheese sandwich on my way to campus (still hopping the entire way, but down hill), drop off my suitcase at the poli sci department, and track down a set of crutches to use on campus.  Only then did I feel better about my situation.  the kindness of folks in the department restored my faith in humanity, and I’m on the path to appreciating Boulder.  Who knows when I’ll be off crutches, but at least the department serves as a community that I know is willing to help.

Preliminary Response to Royall Tyler’s The Algerine Captive

Royall Tyler’s The Algerine Captive is an early American novel following the life of Updike Underhill. Divided into two volumes, Volume One follows the protagonist and narrator through his American upbringing, from his childhood education, eventual training as a doctor, and subsequent struggles to establish himself as a learned physician within a community. At the conclusion of Volume One, Underhill becomes the surgeon on a trading vessel, which leads to his capture and enslavement at the hands of Barbary pirates. Removed from his American home, Volume Two follows the protagonist’s struggles as a slave in north Africa, beginning with his service as a menial laborer, followed by his sale to a doctor so he may practice his trade, and eventually concluding with his freedom at the hands of a Portuguese ship. Through its use of caricatures of ‘everyday’ people, Tyler’s novel attempts to position itself as a mirror in which one may examine both self and society, using the reflected image as an opportunity to reform the behavior and institutions (slavery, in particular) shown to be troubling.

The numerous ways in which one may approach The Algerine Captive served to overwhelm me upon the conclusion of my first reading. There exists, it seems, a blatant Marxist critique of the text, as economic motivations are a perpetually present aspect of the narrative. Simultaneously, the near total absence of women, save for his mother and a passing romantic interest, begs a gendered examination of the presented role (or lack thereof) of men and women in early America. Third, and perhaps the most obvious, is the manner in which the novel deliberately positions the Algerines as inferior Others, using the single commonality presented between the two cultures—slavery—as a tool to argue against its continued presence within the American community. Each of these strategies have a degree of value in efforts to understand the text, but the commonalities between them, centered upon dyadic pairings of abstract ideas—power and weakness, authority and servitude, liberty and slavery—point toward another form of literary criticism which is often ignored or mislabeled (usually as Marxist criticism): anarchist literary criticism.

 

Approached in this manner, the enslavement of the protagonist does not strip him of his self-direction, but rather marginalizes him in a different manner than his pre-enslavement experience in America. While economic conditions are an important axis upon which this subversion takes place, it remains but one of many. The division of the book into its two volumes at the point of his enslavement serves to position the American community with a mirror image with which it may reflect upon its own form and behavior in relation to the allegedly barbarous Algerines. While I lack the space to reflect upon this observation in a thorough manner, one example may simultaneously serve to legitimize my preliminary observations and point the way to further reflection. In both Volumes of The Algerine Captive, the protagonist is first the victim of, and later the willing participant in, hierarchical structures that require the involvement of all parties, including those who are disadvantaged by the process, in order to function. Slavery serves as the most blatant example of this: early in his enslavement, he is stopped from attacking his master by other slaves, but later, he repeatedly references his desire to please his masters so he may enjoy the privileges that accompany obedience. Before his enslavement, similar observations can be made in regards to his relationship with educational institutions—lording his knowledge and position of authority over his students—as well as his desire to establish himself as a doctor—attempting to reveal his competition to be ‘quacks’ so he may usurp their position within the community.

Reflecting upon Sections of ‘The Federalist Papers’

An argument in support of the ratification of the proposed constitution which would replace America’s confederated system of government with a stronger, federal institution, The Federalist Papers provide an opportunity to examine the beliefs which prompted America’s reformation of state power as well as the deliberate formation of a national identity. Even within the select papers assigned (“Federalist #1-10, 14-15, 23-24, and 39”), a large range of topics are pursued by the authors. “Federalist #1-2” serve as an introduction to the question at hand; “Federalist #3-5” examine the benefits of a single union on the international stage; “Federalist #6-10” address the possibilities of conflict and faction within a confederated system as well as the proposed federal system; “Federalist #14-15” argue that the confederated system is inadequate and the federal system is viable; “Federalist 23-24” support a strong central government that is not limited in its ability to organize military forces. Lastly, “Federalist #39” explains how and why the proposed constitution is republican in nature. Because of its broad scope, it is not my intent to discuss each of these sections in relation to one another, and instead will address those sections which I found to be immediately revealing of the text’s position as a whole.

Within The Federalist Papers, it is immediately visible that the authors depend heavily upon Social Contract theory (Locke’s, particularly) for the justification of inwardly exerted power, as well as the realist position regarding the state’s outward presence in the international community. As early as “Federalist #2”, reference is made to the manner in which “the people must cede to [government] some of their natural rights,” an extremely Lockean manner of justifying state power, and later, in “Federalist #7,” Hamilton states his belief in the need for an “umpire or common judge” to resolve conflicts as they arise (Scigliano 2000: 8, 35). In addition to these Lockean beliefs, one may also repeatedly notice hints to Hobbes, for the authors are ostensibly arguing that the same ‘State of Nature’ that justifies the creation of a state also justifies the expansion of that state as far as it may go (while still making representation in the democratic republic feasible). In short, the newly formed states require a unifying abstraction greater than all of them so as to hinder one region from forcing its will upon its neighbors; the newly formed states require their own Leviathan so as to ensure that the lives of the former colonies are not, using Hobbes’ famous phrase, “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.”

While further evidence is certainly present for the above observations—the text is saturated with it—I feel it is more beneficial to set it aside and, for my rereading of the text, focus upon the presentation of the conceptualized-Us within the text. Each paper is addressed to “the People of the State of New York” but, because The Federalist Papers are attempting to argue in support of a larger state body, most references to ‘us’ and ‘we’ are speaking of all the citizens of former colonies. Like the manner in which Jefferson imagines Virginia in Notes, the authors of The Federalist Papers attempt to establish the ‘natural’ unity of the former colonies through establishing borders which unite the “connected, fertile, wide-spreading country” (Scigliano 2000: 8). Also similar to Jefferson’s Notes, The Federalist Papers seek to establish the community through shared identities:

“a people descended from the same ancestors, speaking the same language, professing the same religion, . . . who, by their joint counsels, arms, and efforts, fighting side by side throughout a long and bloody war, have nobly established general liberty and independence,” (Scigliano 2000: 9).

Despite the reasons why the union is ‘natural’, the authors also argue that, if their union is not formalized within a single state, it will inevitably lead to competition and conflict over territory, commerce, the public debt, and so on. Looking beyond this realist belief that “neighboring nations . . . are naturally enemies of each other,” these conflicting positions warrant reflection (Mably, in Scigliano 2000: 33). John Jay (who authored “Federalist #2) and Alexander Hamilton (who authored the majority of The Federalist Papers, including Federalist # 6-8) seem to be of conflicting opinion here, the former arguing that we are one, and the latter arguing that we will only be one through mutual subservience to a single state abstraction. For Hamilton, in other words, the use of ‘we’ is tentative, dependent upon the ratification of the proposed constitution by all states. While not my focus in my initial reading or rereading of The Federalist Papers, further observations regarding the differences in presented belief between the three authors of the text would certainly be relevant and worthy of discussion.

Reflecting upon Jefferson’s ‘Notes…’ (Queries XIII-XXIII)

Having previously outlined the basic and ‘natural’ conditions of Virginia, (including geography, animal life, population growth, and Native Americans, among others,) Jefferson proceeds in the latter half of Notes on the State of Virginia by shifting his focus toward the institutions of Virginia itself: the constitution, laws, education, religion, and industry. Most noteworthy of these topics are the problems he sees in the constitution stemming from his perception of human nature, his proposal for systems of education in which select, economically disadvantaged individuals may achieve higher education, and his comments upon religion, in which he argues that a (selectively) pluralistic society may prove beneficial to the community. In addition to these points, the latter half of Notes returns to the subject of African Americans and Native Americans, which the majority of this reflection will focus upon.

The dramatic break within the text referenced above caused me to pause and reflect upon it after my first read-through. Queries I-XII predominantly focus upon nature, save for Queries IX and X which focus upon Virginia’s military and marine forces, but starting with Query XIII there is a noticeable shift toward the abstractions of the society in question. Rather than nature being the subject of discussion, it becomes the primary object from which the structures of Virginia’s various institutions find justification. In addition to covering the basic laws of Virginia, for example, a considerable chunk of Query XIV is dedicated to an explanation of why former slaves must be excluded from the society and replaced by White settlers if laws of emancipation are passed. While he briefly references prejudice on the part of white citizens and the likely inability of former slaves to move beyond “the injuries they have sustained,” he focuses upon “the real distinctions which nature has made;” African Americans, according to Jefferson, lack the beauty of Whites, are less capable of love and, most importantly, “their existence appears to participate more of sensation than reflection,” (Waldstreicher 2002: 176-177). Interestingly, his comparison of African Americans with Native Americans seems to justify my observation that Jefferson’s position is similar to the ‘kill the Indian, save the man’ mentality one finds later in American history[1].

“[Native Americans] astonish you with strokes of the most sublime oratory; such as prove their reason and sentiment strong, their imagination glowing and elevated. But never yet could I find that a black had uttered a thought above the level of plain narration; never seen even an elementary trait of painting or sculpture.” (Waldstreicher 2002: 177)

Unlike his views of African Americans, there seems to be an acknowledgment of ability from Jefferson regarding Native Americans’ potential. I wouldn’t go so far as to argue that this suggests he would pursue a policy of inclusion, however.

Keeping this observation in mind, my purpose throughout my second reading of Notes was to make sense of Jefferson’s relationship with Native Americans. Beginning by rereading Waldstreicher’s introduction, the rest of the text is finally beginning to fall into place, although I cannot think of a single contribution to the discussion which isn’t covered, either explicitly or implicitly, by Waldstreicher. Jefferson sees many positive traits within Native Americans, but those points of admiration are on an individual level rather than a societal level. It is their lack of homogeneity as a race, in Jefferson’s eyes, which simultaneously allows European Americans to ‘civilize’ them while also stripping them of their decentralized power on the continent. In many ways, this marks the end of Native American history for Jefferson, slowly brought about by the attempts of Native Americans to compete with European Americans as well as the latter’s attempts at socializing the former. Whether taken through trade or violence, European Americans inherit the best of what Native Americans possess, and more than anything, these inherited objects are the land and the legitimacy provided by being ‘native’.

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[1] This was initially proposed in my reflection of the first half of Notes.

Reflecting upon Jefferson’s ‘Notes…’ (Queries I-XII)

Thomas Jefferson’s Notes on the State of Virginia is a compilation of facts, observations, and beliefs regarding Virginia at the close of the American Revolution. With topics ranging from the seemingly mundane and inconsequential to thorough critiques of European misconceptions regarding the new world, the first half of Jefferson’s Notes acts as an important foundation which the latter half—with its emphasis upon political structures—builds off of. Jefferson begins with an overview of geography: where the state in question begins and ends; the rivers and their viability for shipping and travel; natural wonders within the state, including mountains, falls, minerals, and fossils. He then moves the discussion to arguing against de Buffon’s allegations regarding the inferiority of natural conditions in the new world compared to the old, concluding that, whether one’s point of concern is plants, animals, or humanity, it is not an issue of superiority or inferiority; the new world is different from, but not any better or worse than, Europe. Jefferson concludes the first half of Notes with comments upon the climate, population, Native Americans, and the current state of Virginia’s various counties and towns.

The manner in which Jefferson approaches the discussion in Notes can position the text as disjointed and inaccessible at times. Each Query presents itself as relatively contained from the others, suggesting that there is not an overarching point the author seeks to make, and his lengthy descriptions of natural conditions don’t help make the text a page-turner. While I have read many sections of Notes before, this is the first occasion I have approached the text as a whole. Personally, the most interesting parts of the first half of the text are his arguments against de Buffon (Query VI), his fear of the corruptive influence of foreigners (Query VIII), and his discussion of Native Americans (the latter part of Query VI and Query XI), all of which I had previously read for various Political Theory courses.

This most recent reading of Notes was interesting for its completeness, however, for even the seemingly unimportant discussions of rivers, mountains and climate reveal themselves as relevant in relation to the more interesting (and, if my own experience is like many others’, more read) sections of the text. Although presented as an informative work without a thesis that unites each Query as relevant to one another, I increasingly see Jefferson’s Notes as a narrative that seeks to define not only the experience of early Americans, but also the meaning of America’s newly formed national identities which are more regionally specific (i.e. Virginians) and drastically different from contemporary understandings of the American identity. In particular, Jefferson’s discussion of race and his attempt at rooting it in nature strike me as one of the most consequential elements of the text. Also, although I am not yet prepared to comment upon it in unequivocal terms, Jefferson seems to continually speak of Virginia and the new world in general with a defensiveness of its grandeur, not only seeking to establish that the former colonies are great, but also that these new political bodies are inheritors of the best that the world can offer, be it in nature or in society. This particularly shines through the text towards the end of his argument against de Buffon’s beliefs. After he establishes that the new world is no worse than the old, he speaks of Great Britain’s inevitable decline, declaring that “[h]er philosophy has crossed the Channel, her freedom the Atlantic, and herself seems passing to that awful dissolution, whose issue is not given human foresight to scan.” (Waldstreicher 2002: 127)

One part of the text that continues to confuse me is the manner in which he approaches the issue of Native Americans, which is potentially made more complex by his need to prove de Buffon wrong. He speaks of Native Americans with a degree of respect, (such as his example of their oratory skill) but simultaneously pursues political policy that seeks to destroy them. He also makes a distinction between their ‘natural’ ability and their society, which seems to allude to later American policies regarding Native Americans such as ‘kill the Indian, save the man’. I have struggled with this aspect of Notes for over a year, and although the introduction to the text illuminates the issue a bit more, it remains unclear to me.

Trying to Understand William James: Part Two

The Will to Believe

According to William James, “the will to believe” is applicable only in specific instances when the hypothetical option is simultaneously living, forced, and momentous—“a genuine option”, in James’ words (McDermott 1977: 718). A living option is one that is not rooted in rational thought, but rather is emotional and subjective to the individual faced with the option in question. As an example, James offers the difference in having to choose between being “’a theosophist or be[ing] a Mohammedan,’” and being “’an agnostic or being a Christian,’”: the former are likely dead options due to the lack of both familiarity and cultural appeal, while the latter are likely to be both familiar and appealing (McDermott 1977: 718). A forced option is dyadic, thereby requiring the individual to make one of two decisions. The options “’love me or hate me’” would therefore be non-forced, for one could remain tepid and non-committal in either direction, but the options ‘believe X or don’t believe X’ are forced, for it is “based on a complete logical disjunction, with no possibility of not choosing,” (McDermott 1977: 718). A momentous option is immediately relevant and irreversible, presented to the individual within conditions that are not likely to be reproduced, such as James’ example of joining an expedition to the north pole (McDermott 1977: 718). Any instance of a hypothetical option that deviates from these three conditions by instead possessing an antithesis of one of the above—a hypothetical option that is dead rather than live, non-forced rather than forced, or trivial rather than momentous—is an instance of when the will to believe cannot be invoked. While these conditions are seemingly clear and definitive, upon closer examination the classifications are problematic and will create inconsistent instances in which various individuals may employ their will to believe. As James’ belief in the divine is his cited purpose for setting down conditions under which one may believe without rational cause, this shall be our object of analysis, and in short order it will suggest a need for revision in James’ proposed conditions.

Trying to Understand William James: Part One

Pure Experience and Consciousness

William James’ ‘pure experience’ relates to consciousness in three predominant ways. First, pure experience fleshes out a mediating position between rationalism, which “tends to emphasize universals and make wholes prior to parts in the order of logic,” and empiricism, which “lays the explanatory stress upon the part, the element, the individual, and treats the whole as a collection and the universal as an abstraction,” (McDermott 1977: 195). Second, pure experience is capable of rooting itself between these conjunctive and disjunctive relations because it does not require the application of language or its legitimizing influence over what James calls ‘vicious intellectualism’. Third, pure experience does not require the application of language because it is rooted in individual consciousness rather than the complex interplay of individuals’ various perceptions. Pure experience is therefore what James refers to as “coming-to-be-and-a-passing-away”; it is a continuous, personal experience that is selectively contextual due to the necessities of cognition.

Peirce and Post-Positivist Epistemology

In a scientific and narrow pragmatic epistemological sense, ‘hard’ signifies documented reality: diamonds are considered hard after they have scratched glass. In a metaphysical sense, however, ‘hardness’ is a characteristic of an object’s materiality which exists independent of documentation: diamonds possess intrinsic hardness, thus diamonds will scratch glass. The former concept of ‘hard’ limits the degree one can apply the knowledge towards future action, while the latter concept of ‘hardness’ lacks total verification. I argue that, rather than these two points being irreconcilable, they assist one another in the process of constructing belief. Peirce’s epistemology manufactures fact—what has happened through scientific observation—which, once verified through subsequent observations, can be applied to the metaphysical construction of belief—what is believed will happen. This exchange between the two disparate points actually strengthens his pragmaticism by requiring a post-positivist approach in which metaphysical laws are acknowledged to be filtered through the interaction between objects, thus allowing the movement of belief toward the fixed concept of truth without entrenching it prematurely as an unquestioned known.

On Voting: Part Two

Voting as a quantitative reflection of community sentiment

If this was all voting was, I’d be fine with it. I have no problem with having a vague understanding of how others within my community feel about certain issues. The problem, however, resides in the use of an imperfect quantitative reflection of sentiment as a justification for heading toward a culturally hegemonic position. The dominant body or idea becomes the standard in such a situation, and all other positions and ideologies become positioned beneath that standard and marginalized in their validity. The numerical superiority of a position stands in for whether the position is ‘right’; the collective discussion of the issue stops being important, for all one must due is garner enough support to have a majority through whatever tactics one has at one’s disposal (which often include slander and lies that, due to their manipulative nature, should have no place in democratic systems). Issues are not discussed in order to collectively approach a mutual understanding that assists in achieving mutual liberty; ideological positions are instead screamed at one another, and we reward the loudest.