Politics
Truth-Force
by Levi Asher on Tuesday, January 17, 2006 10:55 amI spent some time yesterday reading Martin Luther King Jr.'s 1963 Letter from Birmingham Jail for the first time. It's a powerful document, and among other things it shows us the depth of King's personal scholarship. He cites two modern existentialist philosophers, Martin Buber and Paul Tillich, and quotes St. Thomas Aquinas and T. S. Eliot. Intrigued by this, I did some further research into King's intellectual roots, and found a vast array of influences. King was well-versed in Indian philosophy (he'd visited with peace activists in India in 1959, just before he began to play a leading public role in the American civil rights movement) and was particularly interested in the Hindu concept of truth-force or Satyagraha. He was familiar with the works of Hegel and Thoreau, and the one philosopher or theologian who seems to have influenced him most of all was Reinhold Niebuhr.
King was a brave guy, but it takes more than courage to build up the kind of backbone he had. It takes intellect, and it should be instructive to activists and human rights protestors today that King studied so hard to develop his. Some students of philosophy or political science feel humbled by the texts they read, but King was smart enough to recognize in these texts a call to action. His formula is basic and elemental, but not so basic or elemental that it doesn't need to be repeated today: we must fight hard against injustice and oppression wherever it is found, and we must always do so in the positive spirit of non-violence.
Truth-force. Where can truth-force be found in media or politics today? I cringe at the thought that I might spout a cliche and say we live in a cynical age. Let's face it, every age is probably a cynical age, and it's never easy to stand up in public for tough ideals. First you risk embarrasment ... and if you are among the tiny few who reach that point and don't eventually cower and turn back, you graduate to the next level, at which you risk physical danger. The evidence shows that this risk is quite real for political or philosophical idealists. Socrates, Jesus, Mohandas Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr. were all murdered by their fellow men.
Truth-force. I've recently been immersed in the writings of Immanuel Kant, a German philosopher and founder of the European tradition of Transcendentalism, which also inspired the so-called New England Transcendentalism of Ralph Waldo Emerson and Thoreau. Kant is often considered the first modern philosopher, in the sense that he transcended many prejudices of his day and avoided the stiff constructs of the Continental rationalists, British empiricists and other intellectual gropers of the 18th Century. Kant was the first philosopher to recognize that the most elemental principle in all philosophy is not truth (as the rationalists would say) or nothingness confronting experience (as empiricists would say) but rather the subject, the self, us. In this sense, his work anticipated every modern philosophical movement, from existentialism to pragmatism to linguistic analytics, as well as the psychology of Sigmund Freud and the metaphysical relativism of Albert Einstein.
Kant is probably most widely read today for his epistemological work (specifically, his dense Critique of Pure Reason) but if you look at the progression of his career it seems clear that his greatest interest and crowning achievement was in the field of moral philosophy. He followed the Critique of Pure Reason with a book about ethics, the equally lengthy Critique of Practical Reason, and then summarized this book in a shorter and more accessible volume, On The Metaphysics of Morals. Kant's primary teaching, like Martin Luther King's, is simple: we must always treat others with the same consideration and respect we wish to be accorded ourselves. But Kant is not just reciting the "Golden Rule" ("do unto others as you would have them do unto you"), because Kant aims to prove that this human kindness, this universal empathy is actually an innate characteristic of mankind, a basic component of human psychology.
Evil and injustice are all around us, of course. But Kant was a moral optimist, and taught that good and evil do not share equal standing. Good will towards others is innate; the will to hurt others and the capacity to ignore the suffering of others represent perversions of our innate selves. Who has the courage to rest their personal safety on this formulation? It's easier to be cynical in our violent age -- watch our backs, read the news, keep plastic sheathing and bottled water and gas masks handy.
Where is truth-force today? Where is the Martin Luther King of the Arab-Israeli war, of the Iraq war, of the Sudan?
A few years ago an author named Jedediah Purdy published a book that called for an end to media cynicism, For Common Things: Irony, Trust and Commitment in America Today. Nobody wants to read a book like this (especially not by an author whose first name is Jedediah), and I'd be the last person in the world to call for an end to general cynicism or irony or sarcasm (among other things, this would crash the blogosphere faster than a bad hard drive at Typepad.com). But yesterday was Martin Luther King Day in America, and King died three and a half decades ago, and the world seems to have completely given up the idea that philosophical awareness or principled behavior can even be relevant in the world's toughest conflicts. This is wrong; these principles are eternally relevant, and when we forget to heed them it's our own fault. We are failing the truth-force; the truth-force hasn't failed us yet.
King was a brave guy, but it takes more than courage to build up the kind of backbone he had. It takes intellect, and it should be instructive to activists and human rights protestors today that King studied so hard to develop his. Some students of philosophy or political science feel humbled by the texts they read, but King was smart enough to recognize in these texts a call to action. His formula is basic and elemental, but not so basic or elemental that it doesn't need to be repeated today: we must fight hard against injustice and oppression wherever it is found, and we must always do so in the positive spirit of non-violence.
Truth-force. Where can truth-force be found in media or politics today? I cringe at the thought that I might spout a cliche and say we live in a cynical age. Let's face it, every age is probably a cynical age, and it's never easy to stand up in public for tough ideals. First you risk embarrasment ... and if you are among the tiny few who reach that point and don't eventually cower and turn back, you graduate to the next level, at which you risk physical danger. The evidence shows that this risk is quite real for political or philosophical idealists. Socrates, Jesus, Mohandas Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr. were all murdered by their fellow men.
Truth-force. I've recently been immersed in the writings of Immanuel Kant, a German philosopher and founder of the European tradition of Transcendentalism, which also inspired the so-called New England Transcendentalism of Ralph Waldo Emerson and Thoreau. Kant is often considered the first modern philosopher, in the sense that he transcended many prejudices of his day and avoided the stiff constructs of the Continental rationalists, British empiricists and other intellectual gropers of the 18th Century. Kant was the first philosopher to recognize that the most elemental principle in all philosophy is not truth (as the rationalists would say) or nothingness confronting experience (as empiricists would say) but rather the subject, the self, us. In this sense, his work anticipated every modern philosophical movement, from existentialism to pragmatism to linguistic analytics, as well as the psychology of Sigmund Freud and the metaphysical relativism of Albert Einstein.
Kant is probably most widely read today for his epistemological work (specifically, his dense Critique of Pure Reason) but if you look at the progression of his career it seems clear that his greatest interest and crowning achievement was in the field of moral philosophy. He followed the Critique of Pure Reason with a book about ethics, the equally lengthy Critique of Practical Reason, and then summarized this book in a shorter and more accessible volume, On The Metaphysics of Morals. Kant's primary teaching, like Martin Luther King's, is simple: we must always treat others with the same consideration and respect we wish to be accorded ourselves. But Kant is not just reciting the "Golden Rule" ("do unto others as you would have them do unto you"), because Kant aims to prove that this human kindness, this universal empathy is actually an innate characteristic of mankind, a basic component of human psychology.
Evil and injustice are all around us, of course. But Kant was a moral optimist, and taught that good and evil do not share equal standing. Good will towards others is innate; the will to hurt others and the capacity to ignore the suffering of others represent perversions of our innate selves. Who has the courage to rest their personal safety on this formulation? It's easier to be cynical in our violent age -- watch our backs, read the news, keep plastic sheathing and bottled water and gas masks handy.
Where is truth-force today? Where is the Martin Luther King of the Arab-Israeli war, of the Iraq war, of the Sudan?
A few years ago an author named Jedediah Purdy published a book that called for an end to media cynicism, For Common Things: Irony, Trust and Commitment in America Today. Nobody wants to read a book like this (especially not by an author whose first name is Jedediah), and I'd be the last person in the world to call for an end to general cynicism or irony or sarcasm (among other things, this would crash the blogosphere faster than a bad hard drive at Typepad.com). But yesterday was Martin Luther King Day in America, and King died three and a half decades ago, and the world seems to have completely given up the idea that philosophical awareness or principled behavior can even be relevant in the world's toughest conflicts. This is wrong; these principles are eternally relevant, and when we forget to heed them it's our own fault. We are failing the truth-force; the truth-force hasn't failed us yet.
Stakes is High
by Levi Asher on Tuesday, December 13, 2005 10:57 pmA courtroom trial is, in semiotic terms, the creation of a literary text. And a text of great import: a human being stands before his or her peers and faces up to society's moral judgement. The entire procedure is carried out as an exchange of words, which are recorded for posterity. It's a fascinating process, and some notable texts are being written right now.
Let's start with Saddam Hussein in Baghdad, pounding his fist and complaining that the whole trial process is a theatrical fraud. Well, he's probably right, but then Saddam has his own penchant for theatricality. With Saddam in the hot seat and the cameras rolling, there's more bad acting flying around the Baghdad courtroom than in a Tom Hanks/Robin Williams buddy film directed by Oliver Stone. We yearn for the days of the Nuremberg trials.
Let's start with Saddam Hussein in Baghdad, pounding his fist and complaining that the whole trial process is a theatrical fraud. Well, he's probably right, but then Saddam has his own penchant for theatricality. With Saddam in the hot seat and the cameras rolling, there's more bad acting flying around the Baghdad courtroom than in a Tom Hanks/Robin Williams buddy film directed by Oliver Stone. We yearn for the days of the Nuremberg trials.
Clean For Gene
by Levi Asher on Monday, December 12, 2005 11:40 amWho knew that 60's-era Presidential semi-hopeful Eugene McCarthy was a practicing poet? I had no idea. I didn't know much about this maverick Senator from Minnesota, except that he apparently played the "Howard Dean role" in the 1968 Presidential election. He represented Americans who vigorously objected to the Vietnam War, caused a lot of ruckus, didn't even come close to winning the Democratic Party nomination, and watched his party lose the election from the sidelines.
The Dean parallels end there, though; the Vermont governor became famous for uttering loud pirate-like noises at televised campaign rallies, whereas the Minnesota senator (whose death was reported this weekend) preferred quietly quoting the likes of Plutarch, Shelley and Whitman, as well as reciting his own poems at political events. You can check out some of his verses here ... he was no John Ashbery, as far as I can see, but there's an appealing Ted Kooser kind of vibe to the stuff, and it's clear his heart was in the right place. Thanks to Syntax for the tipoff.
Speaking of hearts that no longer beat ... I don't know if Richard Pryor considered himself a writer, but he was certainly poetry in motion. "That's right ... we bad ..."
The Dean parallels end there, though; the Vermont governor became famous for uttering loud pirate-like noises at televised campaign rallies, whereas the Minnesota senator (whose death was reported this weekend) preferred quietly quoting the likes of Plutarch, Shelley and Whitman, as well as reciting his own poems at political events. You can check out some of his verses here ... he was no John Ashbery, as far as I can see, but there's an appealing Ted Kooser kind of vibe to the stuff, and it's clear his heart was in the right place. Thanks to Syntax for the tipoff.
Speaking of hearts that no longer beat ... I don't know if Richard Pryor considered himself a writer, but he was certainly poetry in motion. "That's right ... we bad ..."
Harold Pinter: See This Fist?
by Levi Asher on Thursday, December 8, 2005 03:34 pm
Somebody correct me if I'm wrong about this, but I've read several reactions to Harold Pinter's aggressive Nobel Prize acceptance speech, and I get the feeling I'm the only one here who actually knows Pinter's work.
Harold Pinter has spent his career studying the way human beings lie. It is his obsession, his medium. A play is called "Pinteresque" when the audience cannot trust a single character on stage. His working class Brits deceive, intimidate and overpower each other in tightly packed, oppressive rooms. They speak with great volume and speed, but they never mean anything they say -- their words are either weapons of cruelty or pathetic pleas for help.
By the time a Pinter play ends, at least one character has been completely destroyed, and at least one character has won a petty, hollow victory. The audience shuffles out of the theater feeling both excited by the naked display of power and guiltily complicit in the depraved brutality of human aggression.
Do-Gooder
by Levi Asher on Tuesday, November 29, 2005 11:10 pmI received in the mail a copy of a bright yellow-and-orange book I'd never heard of, The Impossible Will Take A Little While, edited by a hardworking political journalist named Paul Rogat Loeb.
This a source book of political hopefulness, if such a thing can actually exist in these times. Indeed, it seems one must put on a mocking voice to even whisper of hope for mankind in the era of suicide bombers.
This a source book of political hopefulness, if such a thing can actually exist in these times. Indeed, it seems one must put on a mocking voice to even whisper of hope for mankind in the era of suicide bombers.
American Writers: Totally Unelectable
by Levi Asher on Thursday, November 10, 2005 04:20 pmThanks to Bookslut for covering the poignant electoral campaign of novelist Caleb Carr, who failed to gain a seat as a County Legislator in Rennselear, New York. Carr came in last among four candidates, and I think this is sad news.
Who the hell wouldn't vote for Caleb Carr? Who are these stiffs who beat him, and what the hell have they written lately? Caleb Carr is not just some thumbsucking postmodernist; he's a vivid social critic whose books paint vast sympathetic canvases of diverse humanity. His Alienist invoked Jacob Riis, Teddy Roosevelt and Sigmund Freud, a potent mix of sociological influences and a sure indication that this is a guy upon whose mind the welfare of the human race weighs heavy. I think he would have made a great county legislator, and I salute him for giving it a shot.
Who the hell wouldn't vote for Caleb Carr? Who are these stiffs who beat him, and what the hell have they written lately? Caleb Carr is not just some thumbsucking postmodernist; he's a vivid social critic whose books paint vast sympathetic canvases of diverse humanity. His Alienist invoked Jacob Riis, Teddy Roosevelt and Sigmund Freud, a potent mix of sociological influences and a sure indication that this is a guy upon whose mind the welfare of the human race weighs heavy. I think he would have made a great county legislator, and I salute him for giving it a shot.
Reviewing the Review: October 30 2005
by Levi Asher on Saturday, October 29, 2005 10:08 amA disturbing report has just come in: tomorrow's New York Times Book Review has been invaded and occupied by the Times' News desk.
The evidence shows that several foreign policy journalists and think-tank types have moved into the Book Review's literary territory, evicting aesthetes, academic theoreticians and fiction/poetry-scene gossip mongers from their familiar positions. The iron curtain of political journalism has even fallen over the cover layout, which features the large title "IRAQ", an illustration of a bloodied flag (how original), and five headlines, all relating to current news.
A puppet display of tepid fiction reviews (Alison Lurie's Truth and Consequences, intriguingly reviewed by Alice Traux; David Maine's Fallen, an Adam-and-Eve retelling faintly praised but ultimately dismissed by Bruce Bawer) will not satisfy the rage of angry literateurs who may care deeply about the war in Iraq, but get plenty of reporting about it elsewhere. Attempts to locate poetry critic David Orr for comment have been unsuccessful, and his whereabouts are unknown.
This will not stand.
The evidence shows that several foreign policy journalists and think-tank types have moved into the Book Review's literary territory, evicting aesthetes, academic theoreticians and fiction/poetry-scene gossip mongers from their familiar positions. The iron curtain of political journalism has even fallen over the cover layout, which features the large title "IRAQ", an illustration of a bloodied flag (how original), and five headlines, all relating to current news.
A puppet display of tepid fiction reviews (Alison Lurie's Truth and Consequences, intriguingly reviewed by Alice Traux; David Maine's Fallen, an Adam-and-Eve retelling faintly praised but ultimately dismissed by Bruce Bawer) will not satisfy the rage of angry literateurs who may care deeply about the war in Iraq, but get plenty of reporting about it elsewhere. Attempts to locate poetry critic David Orr for comment have been unsuccessful, and his whereabouts are unknown.
This will not stand.
Pamuk Still Talking
by Levi Asher on Friday, October 28, 2005 04:04 pmI'm having trouble keeping up with all the legal challenges Orhan Pamuk is facing in Turkey. Apparently Pamuk keeps giving interviews about the lawsuits against him, which only results in more lawsuits. It's kind of like that scene in Breakfast Club where the teacher keeps saying "You want another?" and Judd Nelson keeps saying "Yeah." As Molly Ringwald would whisper: Orhan, stop ...
Seriously, much is murky about this whole situation, which makes the nation of Turkey appear ridiculous to the rest of the world. It's sad because Pamuk was originally greeted as a proud literary representative of a Turkey that had advanced beyond its Midnight Express image (remember that one?). As Laila Lalami reported last month on Moorish Girl, the bad reflection these lawsuits cast on the Turkish national government may not be fully deserved, or at least is probably not well understood.
Seriously, much is murky about this whole situation, which makes the nation of Turkey appear ridiculous to the rest of the world. It's sad because Pamuk was originally greeted as a proud literary representative of a Turkey that had advanced beyond its Midnight Express image (remember that one?). As Laila Lalami reported last month on Moorish Girl, the bad reflection these lawsuits cast on the Turkish national government may not be fully deserved, or at least is probably not well understood.
Still October, Still Earth
by Levi Asher on Tuesday, October 18, 2005 09:59 amI believe in literature as a curative force in the world. I'll even go out on a limb and say I consider fiction, poetry and drama as some of the best hopes for resolving the psychological and sociological afflictions that plague the dysfunctional family known as humankind.
I know that I'll get shouted down if I speak the above paragraph in any kind of crowd. Literature is entertainment and escape, some will say. Others scoff at entertainment and escape but only want to speak of literature as refined aesthetic experience, or personal and private enlightenment. Still others will admit that literature could possibly help end wars and break racial, economic and social barriers in theory, but balk at trying to translate this theory into action.
I say our world is an awful mess, and any discussion of this mess will quickly founder upon the bedrock of ideology. From communism to capitalism to fascism to scientific racialism to anarchism to hippie utopianism to religious fundamentalism, our past century has been a loud pinball game of theories and beliefs. But ideology is a mercurial pursuit, and most attempts to debate these types of world views go nowhere. I'm thinking, for instance, of the chilling chapter in Orhan Pamuk's Snow in which an Islamic fundamentalist debates a secular bureaucrat in a pastry cafe before shooting him. The conversation reminds me of many I've had (though I haven't been shot yet) because both are talking but neither are listening. It's a defensive game -- one character speaks a volley, and the other tries to intercept and return it. The argument is inevitably settled with a gun, a natural progression in a conversation that was all bullets and shields to begin with.
A year ago this month, we turned the entire LitKicks site into a special one-time-only project called October Earth. This was my attempt at an exploration of basic human principles through the discussion of literature. We asked one controversial question each day, illustrated with a selection from a relevant work of fiction or poetry or drama, and we required respondents to choose a definite "Yes" or "No" along with their answer.
The "Yes/No" thing got a lot of criticism. We were lambasted for requiring simple answers to tough questions. In fact, that was the whole scheme. Of course there were no simple answers to the questions we were asking, and by asking each person to commit to an "Agree" or "Disagree" with each response we were trying to make each participant feel the insufficiency of simple answers, the frustration of propaganda and institutionalized stupidity.
October Earth was my baby, my self-indulgence. I'm not sure if anybody in the world liked the project except for me, but it was something I had been dreaming of doing for years, and it was a thrill to finally see it in action. Jamelah and Caryn and I took turns selecting topics, and while we touched on everything from love to fear to money to religion, the focus was clearly on the state of our planet in an age dominated by intellectual extremism and massively distributed propaganda. In October 2004, my country was in the final stage of a virulently contested presidential election that also stood as a referendum on our war with Iraq. Opinions were abounding on all sides, and October Earth was my little shout in the midst of all the noise.
A year later, the world's no better, so I guess the project failed. Still I enjoy looking back on the discussions we had that month, like this one and this one and this one and this one and this one and this one. Today, in the spirit of October Earth, I'd like to ask you one more question: do you believe literature can help cure the world of its current plague of institutionalized violence, injustice and oppression? Please include a clear "Yes" or "No" along with your response.
I know that I'll get shouted down if I speak the above paragraph in any kind of crowd. Literature is entertainment and escape, some will say. Others scoff at entertainment and escape but only want to speak of literature as refined aesthetic experience, or personal and private enlightenment. Still others will admit that literature could possibly help end wars and break racial, economic and social barriers in theory, but balk at trying to translate this theory into action.
I say our world is an awful mess, and any discussion of this mess will quickly founder upon the bedrock of ideology. From communism to capitalism to fascism to scientific racialism to anarchism to hippie utopianism to religious fundamentalism, our past century has been a loud pinball game of theories and beliefs. But ideology is a mercurial pursuit, and most attempts to debate these types of world views go nowhere. I'm thinking, for instance, of the chilling chapter in Orhan Pamuk's Snow in which an Islamic fundamentalist debates a secular bureaucrat in a pastry cafe before shooting him. The conversation reminds me of many I've had (though I haven't been shot yet) because both are talking but neither are listening. It's a defensive game -- one character speaks a volley, and the other tries to intercept and return it. The argument is inevitably settled with a gun, a natural progression in a conversation that was all bullets and shields to begin with.
A year ago this month, we turned the entire LitKicks site into a special one-time-only project called October Earth. This was my attempt at an exploration of basic human principles through the discussion of literature. We asked one controversial question each day, illustrated with a selection from a relevant work of fiction or poetry or drama, and we required respondents to choose a definite "Yes" or "No" along with their answer.
The "Yes/No" thing got a lot of criticism. We were lambasted for requiring simple answers to tough questions. In fact, that was the whole scheme. Of course there were no simple answers to the questions we were asking, and by asking each person to commit to an "Agree" or "Disagree" with each response we were trying to make each participant feel the insufficiency of simple answers, the frustration of propaganda and institutionalized stupidity.
October Earth was my baby, my self-indulgence. I'm not sure if anybody in the world liked the project except for me, but it was something I had been dreaming of doing for years, and it was a thrill to finally see it in action. Jamelah and Caryn and I took turns selecting topics, and while we touched on everything from love to fear to money to religion, the focus was clearly on the state of our planet in an age dominated by intellectual extremism and massively distributed propaganda. In October 2004, my country was in the final stage of a virulently contested presidential election that also stood as a referendum on our war with Iraq. Opinions were abounding on all sides, and October Earth was my little shout in the midst of all the noise.
A year later, the world's no better, so I guess the project failed. Still I enjoy looking back on the discussions we had that month, like this one and this one and this one and this one and this one and this one. Today, in the spirit of October Earth, I'd like to ask you one more question: do you believe literature can help cure the world of its current plague of institutionalized violence, injustice and oppression? Please include a clear "Yes" or "No" along with your response.
Michael McClure: What It Meant
by Levi Asher on Friday, October 7, 2005 01:08 pmI asked poet Michael McClure, one of the five performers at the seminal 1955 Six Gallery poetry reading, if he had any thoughts to share on the event's 50th birthday. He sent me some notes that he's going to deliver at HOWL REDUX in San Francisco's Herbst Theater tonight at 8 pm as part of the city's LitQuake Festival. "The first half will be a celebration of earlier San Francisco revolutionary writers -- the second half is to honor the Six Gallery readings with revolutionary young poets reading for the original Six readers. I'll read for myself THE DEATH OF 100 WHALES, MYSTERY OF THE HUNT, POINT LOBOS:ANIMISM and NIGHT WORDS. Sandinista Daisy Zamora will read for Philip Lamantia, Leslie Scalopino will read for Philip Whalen and Peter Coyote will read for Kenneth Rexroth." Here's what Michael had to say about the original event:

