This is a brilliant idea—cruising around with serious thinkers and engaging them in conversation, in settings of their choice. Cornel West in a taxi, Michael Hardt in a rowboat, Marth Nussbaum on Chicago’s lakefront… This is the transcript to the movie, which I haven’t seen, but I found the book to be a casual and satisfying way to become more familiar with the new thinkers.
The unique set-up makes for kinesthetic conversation, allowing for serendipitous stimulation and encounters, and, as Taylor hopes, to bring philosophy “to the streets.” The hope that follows is that these intellectuals use language that is accessible to a popular audience. Some, like Cornel West, are public intellectuals who need no reminder of the need for accessibility, while others, like Slavoj Zizek, seem almost bent on willfully resisting it.
Zizek’s conversation with Taylor, while entertaining (it is conducted in a garbage dump) is ultimately useless. He says nothing to advance the cause of the suffering, preferring instead to propose bourgeouis aesthetic positions and play philosophical games: “I think that what is truly threatening is not trash as such, it is separating trash, it is throwing trash out. I think that the ultimate horror is, again, a nice green pasture or whatever where trash disappears. I think that an ideally balanced (environmentalists use this term) ecological society would have to be a totally chaotic space where trash is simply part of our environs, not discriminated against” (180).
In contrast, West’s contribution was enjoyable. I found his ability to draw from the African American experience and cultural expression (especially jazz and hip hop) as well as make fresh the classics (like Plato) to be an impressive performance; revealing a brilliant mind at work. His evocation of Theodor Adorno also stuck with me: “The condition of truth is to allow the suffering to speak.” I feel like that statement grounds philosophy a little, and provides a promising frame for the conversations that Astra Taylor sets out to have with the thinkers in this collection. For West’s part, he lists desire in the face of death, dialogue in the face of dogmatism, and democracy in the face of domination as a sort of orientation for his thinking. His discussion of dedication to this responsibility, and Avital Ronell’s notion of never completely meeting such responsibility, remind me of Simon Critchley’s notion of the “infinitely demanding.”
Contrast these ideas of responsibility to those of Peter Singer, which Kwame Anthony Appiah takes to task. He rejects Singer’s appeal to us to do more than our “fair share” (however that is determined) in order to compensate for those who aren’t doing theirs. Appiah rightfully argues that Singer’s line of thinking takes us down a dangerous path in which we become some sort of martyr do-gooders and begin to deny ourselves of what other areas of philosophy would identify as “the good life”—friends, family, community, etc. Never mind the point that we can’t do the “fair share” of work for the rich and powerful—those who are the obstacle to a more equal society—even if we wanted to! A more astute thinker than Singer once observed, “Power concedes nothing without a demand.”
Further, Appiah points out that shouldering additional responsibility (again, whatever that means) would cause most of us to simply walk away. Which, I imagine, is exactly what the Bank of America security guard did after hearing Singer’s reply to his question of how Singer can get his ideas to the 5% or 1% of the richest Americans (this is before Occupy!). Singer reminds him that all of us can give a little and secondly, that some of the wealthy like Gates and Buffett are “receptive.” Let’s pause a moment and review the significance of this encounter. Here, a worker, who watches the wealthy enter and exit one of the institutions and corporations responsible for our unequal society, wants to engage a philosopher. This is exactly the kind of encounter that Taylor hopes her project to have. A meeting with a famous philosopher should leave one inspired, but instead (I imagine), the guard is left with the disappointing, even insulting, message that he should give more to charity and that, in fact, some rich people do too. This is a sixth-grader’s solution to poverty.
Besides critiquing Singer, Appiah makes the interesting observation (and by implication, a critique of the philosophical tradition itself) that most problems are practical—not theoretical—and ultimately, agreement on what is to be done is more important than agreement on why it is needed to be done: “Most of our value commitments are not theoretical, they’re practical, and most of what we say in justifying them is a kind of rationalization (104).
Hardt is interested in drawing theory out of social practice: “…don’t ask what is to be done. Don’t even try to answer that question. Instead, ask what are people already doing and then look at tht kind of theorizing that’s going on collectively in the movements” (151). He sees an urgent need to do so because the Left no longer has much in the way of proposals: “We’re living in a period when, in order to ensure its legitimacy, the Left has had to abandon the notion of revolution. So what’s left after the possibility of a radical transformation of society has been written off? What’s left, for the Left, are practices of resistance, practices of critique and civil disobedience. In other words, it’s a strictly negative vocation” (135).
This makes sense to me. It often feels that to be Left is to be defensive or to be critical. Protesting the war, publishing articles about how right-wing policy makers are wrong and duping the public, but not so much on the offensive. I’m not sure how useful the discourse of revolution is as a solution to this problem, but Hardt emphasizes that the Right has successfully adopted it, and how other words like “democracy” are equally squishy and problematic (nonetheless, he speaks of revolution in terms of freedom and democracy). For him, revolution really entails transforming human nature so that people are more capable of democracy. While he begins with this sort of patronizing Leninist position, he sharply rejects Lenin’s belief that dictatorship is necessary in the interim before democracy. Rather, Hardt argues that only democratic means can produce democratic ends. The task at hand, then, it seems, is to tap into people’s democratic impulses and develop their democratic practices. But Hardt’s line of thinking sort of cul-de-sacs when challenged to think about what methods might be used to bring out organic forms of cooperation and solidarity. He speaks of it as being a “glacial process,” which effectively postpones democracy not unlike Lenin’s sort of “purgatory” or “deferred utopia” (Hardt’s words) that Hardt criticizes. Ironically, he points to camaraderie found among workers on the factory floor as an example of organic terrain for democratic training, yet Hardt’s best known work (together with Antonio Negri) theorizes post-industrial “immaterial labor.”