Category Archives: Academia

I Only Report

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“A Report to an Academy” (“Ein Bericht für eine Akademie”) is a short story by Franz Kafka, written and published in 1917. In the story, an ape named Red Peter, who has learned to behave like a human, presents to an academy the story of how he effected his transformation. The story was first published by Martin Buber in a German monthly. This English version was translated from German by Philip Boehm.

Esteemed Gentlemen of the Academy!

I feel honored by your invitation to present the academy with a report on my former life as an ape.

I am afraid, however, that I will be unable to comply with your request. It is now some five years that I have been separated from apedom – a short time according to the calendar, perhaps, but an eternity when you have to gallop through it the way I did. And even though I was accompanied, at least for parts of the way, by fine human beings, good counsel, orchestral music and applause, my journey was in essence a solitary one, for the accompaniment-to stick with the metaphor-kept far away from the barricade. This achievement would have been impossible if I had desired to cling to my origins, to the memory of my youth. In fact the first rule I set for myself was the renunciation of any and all forms of obstinacy; I, a free ape, willingly accepted this yoke.

But because of that my memories withdrew more and more. And the gateway of return, had the humans willed it, which at first was as great as the heavens that vault the earth, became less and less lofty and more and more constricted as my development proceeded at its spurred-on pace. I felt increasingly at ease, increasingly included in the world of men. The storm that followed me from my past abated, and today it is nothing more than a breeze to cool my heels, and that distant aperture through which it blows, the same opening I once passed through myself, has grown so small that I would have to scrape the fur off my body to make it through-assuming I had the strength and willpower for the journey back. Frankly speaking, much as I enjoy finding images to describe all this, frankly speaking, esteemed sirs, your own apedom, insofar as something similar may lie in your own past – could not be further from you than mine is from me. But every creature that walks the earth has a ticklish heel: from the small chimpanzee to the great Achilles.

Nonetheless, I may be able to respond to your request after all, at least in the most limited sense, and I’m very happy to do so.

The first thing I learned was how to shake hands. A handshake is a sign of candor, and today, at the pinnacle of my career, I’d like to expand on that first handshake by adding a few candid words as well. And although what I have to say won’t teach the academy anything essentially new, and though it’s far less than what was requested of me-and what I cannot articulate despite my best will-I might nevertheless be able to offer a broad outline of how a former ape managed to penetrate the world of men and continue his existence in that world. Nor would I permit myself to say the little that follows unless I was absolutely certain of myself, having secured an unshakable position in the biggest variété shows of the civilized world:

I come from the Gold Coast. As to the method of my capture I have to rely on the accounts of strangers. A hunting party of the firm Hagenbeck-incidentally I have since downed many a bottle of good red wine with the leader of that expedition-had set up a blind in the bushes by our watering place along the riverbank, where I went in the evening together with my tribe. Shots were fired, I was the only one hit, I took two bullets.

One grazed my cheek, and although the wound was superficial, the bullet did shave out a large red scar that led to my being called Red Peter–a disgusting name, completely inappropriate, only a monkeybrain would come up with a name like that, as if the red mark on my cheek were all that distinguished me from the circus chimp Peter, recently deceased, who was well known in certain parts. All that just as an aside.

The second shot hit me just under the hip, and it was serious; to this day I limp a little as a result. I recently read an article penned by one of the thousands of gossiping gadflies that write about me in the papers, who claims that my apish nature is still not completely repressed, and cites as proof my predilection for removing my pants whenever I have guests to show the entry point of that bullet. The man who came up with that should have each finger shot off his writing hand, one by one. I may remove my pants in front of whomever I please, the most anyone would find there is an impeccably groomed fur and the scar from a shooting wound that was-and I use this word carefully so as not to mislead anyone – that was downright criminal. It’s all plain to see, there’s nothing to hide, for when it comes to truth, even the highest-minded individual is ready to let his manners drop. On the other hand, if the author of that article were to take off his pants when he had visitors, well, that would be another matter entirely, and I’ll give him the benefit of any doubt he doesn’t do this. But he should stop imposing his own delicate sense of propriety on me.

When I woke up after being shot – and this is where my own memory gradually begins – I found myself in a cage on a Hagenbeck company steamships, down in steerage. Instead of four walls of bars this cage had only three, and was fastened to a large crate, which comprised the fourth wall. The whole thing was too low to stand up in and too narrow for sitting down. So I just crouched inside, with my knees bent and constantly shaking, and my face turned toward the crate, as I didn’t want to see anyone and wished only to be left alone in the darkness, the bars cutting into my flesh from the back. This method of confining wild animals is supposed to be particularly advantageous during the first days of captivity, and judging from my own experience I cannot deny that this is indeed the case, from the human point of view.

But at that moment I wasn’t thinking about that. For the first time in my life I was trapped with no way out, at least nowhere I could go directly, since straight ahead of me was the crate, board securely fixed to board. And though I discovered a gap between the boards, which made me howl for joy in all my ignorance, it wasn’t even big enough to stick my tail through, and all my apish strength couldn’t make it any wider.

Later I was told I made unusually little noise, which led everyone to believe I would either soon die or else – assuming I survived the first, critical period -would prove to be very tamable. I survived. Dull sobbing, the painful search for fleas, apathetically licking a coconut, banging my head against the wall of the crate, and sticking my tongue out at anyone who came near me-this is how I first behaved in my new life. But my one prevailing feeling was that I had no way out. Of course today I have to rely on human words to describe what I felt then as an ape, so my portrayal is bound to be distorted, but even if I can no longer attain my old apish truth, at least my depiction is very much in that spirit, there’s no doubt about that.

I had always had so many ways out, and now there was none. I was trapped. My freedom of movement couldn’t have been more restricted if they had nailed me down. And why? You can scratch between your toes until you start to bleed and not discover the reason. Press yourself so close against the bar of the cage until it nearly slices you in two and you won’t find the answer. I had no way out, so I had to invent one: otherwise I was doomed. If I had stayed staring at the wall of that crate I would have inevitably died a miserable death. But that’s where Hagenbeck & Co think apes should be, and so I stopped being an ape. A beautifully clear train of thought I must have somehow hatched out with my belly, since apes think with their belly.

I’m afraid that you may not understand exactly what I mean by a way out, which I mean in the most ordinary and fullest sense of the phrase. I am deliberately avoiding the word freedom, because I don’t mean this grand feeling of freedom on all sides. As an ape I may have known it, and I’ve met humans who yearn for exactly that. But I myself have never asked for freedom, neither then nor now. As an aside: freedom is something people deceive themselves with far too frequently. And just as it counts as one of the most sublime feelings, so, too, can it lead to the sublime disappointment. Often, before going on stage as part of a revue, I’ve watched this or that pair of trapeze artists high in the air by the ceiling. They would swing and sway, floating into each other’s arms, one would carry the other by her hair in his teeth. “So that’s another example of human freedom,” I thought, “ego-maniacal and high-handed.” What a mockery of holy nature! There’s not a building on earth that could withstand the laughter of the apes at such a sight.

No, I didn’t want freedom. All I wanted was some way out – right, left, wherever it might lead. I kept my demand small, so that if it turned out to be a delusion, the disappointment would be no greater. Anything to get on, to get out! And not just stand there with upraised arms pressed against the wall of some crate.

Today I see clearly that I could never have escaped without the greatest inner tranquility. Indeed, I think I owe everything I have become to the calm that came over me after those first few days at sea. And I probably have the crew to thank for that.

They’re good people, despite everything. To this day I enjoy recalling the sound of their heavy steps that echoed through my half-sleep back then. They had the habit of taking everything extremely slowly. If one of them wanted to rub his eyes, he’d raise his hand as if it were a hanging weight. Their jokes were crude, but hearty. Their laughter was generally mixed with coughing that sounded dangerous but didn’t mean anything. They always had something in their mouths to spit out and couldn’t care less where it landed. They were constantly complaining about the fleas jumping from me to them, but they weren’t ever really angry at me; they realized that fleas thrive in my fur and that fleas are jumpers, so they learned to live with that. When they weren’t on duty they’d sometimes sit around me in a half circle, more cooing than speaking to one another. They would stretch out on the crates and smoke their pipes, slapping their knees whenever I made the slightest movement, and now and then one of them would take a stick and tickle me where it felt pleasant. I can’t say I’d accept an invitation to take another voyage on that ship, but nor could I claim that all the memories I have from that passage are ugly ones.

Above all, the tranquility I acquired among these people kept me from trying to escape. Looking back, I think I must have sensed that if I wanted to live, I needed to find some way out, and I must have understood that fleeing would not accomplish this. I no longer know whether such an escape was possible, but I believe it was – surely escape is always an option for an ape. Today my teeth are such that I have to be careful even with ordinary nutcracking, but back then it would have probably been just a matter of time before I chomped my way through the lock on the door. But I didn’t do that, for what would it have gained me? As soon as I stuck my head out they would have recaptured me and locked me up in an even worse cage, or else I might have crept off unnoticed, to the other animals–for instance to the giant boa that was caged across from me, and breathed my last breath in its embrace. I even might have managed to steal onto the upper deck and jump overboard, in which case I would have rocked a while on the water and then drowned. Desperate deeds every one. I didn’t calculate things in such a human fashion, but under the influence of my surroundings I acted as though I had.

I didn’t calculate, but I probably observed things in peace and quiet. I watched the people going back and forth, always the same faces, the same movements, I often had the impression there was only one of them. So this man, or these men, went about with no impediment. A lofty purpose began to dawn on me. No one promised me they would open the bars if I acted like them. After all, promises aren’t made for seemingly impossible tasks. But when such tasks are accomplished nevertheless, the promises are made after the fact, and exactly where you would have looked for them in vain before. Except there wasn’t much about these men that truly tempted me. Had I been a follower of the grand freedom I mentioned earlier, I’m sure I would have chosen the sea over the way out I saw in the gloomy faces of these people. But in any case I spent a long time observing before I ever had thoughts like that, and it was the only accumulated observations that first pushed me in a specific direction.

Imitating people was so easy. Within a few days I was able to spit. We would spit at each other in the face, with the only difference that I licked my face clean afterward, and they didn’t. Soon I was smoking a pipe like an old salt, and if I pressed my thumb into the bowl to boot, the whole steerage would cheer; except it took me a long time to understand the difference between an empty pipe and one that had been fully stuffed.

The whiskey bottle caused me the most difficulty. The smell was sheer torture, I forced myself with all my strength, but it took weeks to overcome my aversion. Strangely, the people took these internal struggles more seriously than anything else about me. While I don’t distinguish the people in my memory, there was one who kept coming back, alone or with his chums, day or night, at the oddest hours. He’d stand outside my cage with the bottle and instruct me. He didn’t understand me, but he wanted to solve the riddle of my being. He would slowly uncork the bottle and look at me, to check whether I had understood; I confess that I always watched him with wild-eyed attention-all too eager, in fact-no human teacher on earth would find such a student of people. After the bottle was uncorked, he would hold it to his mouth; I would follow with my eyes, from the bottle to his throat. He would nod, pleased with his pupil, and place the bottle to his lips. Delighted with my gradual discovery, I would shriek and scratch myself all over, wherever I felt the urge. He liked that – then he’d tilt the bottle back and take a swallow, and I was so impatient and desperate to emulate him that I wound up soiling myself in my cage, which would again cause him enormous satisfaction. Then, swinging the bottle away from his body and back to his lips, he would drink, exaggeratedly bending over for purposes of instruction, and down the entire bottle in a single gulp. Exhausted from so much effort, I could no longer follow him; I’d hang limply on the bar, while he ended his theoretical instruction by stroking his belly and grinning.

Then came the practical instruction. But hadn’t the theoretical part already worn me out? Indeed it had. Still, that’s part of my fate, so despite my exhaustion I reached as best I could for the bottle being held out to me, and, shaking all the while, uncork it. Success gradually brought renewed strength, and I managed to lift the bottle in a manner hardly distinguishable from the original. I raised it to my lips, then threw it away in disgust, disgust, even though it was empty, with nothing left but the smell. I was so revolted I tossed it on the ground, to the sadness of my teacher, and the greater sadness of myself, and the fact that I didn’t forget to stroke my belly and grin after throwing away the bottle didn’t make either one of us feel better.

All too often, that was how my lessons went. And to my teacher’s credit: he wasn’t angry with me, though he did on occasion hold his burning pipe against my body in some place I couldn’t reach, until my fur began to glow, but then he’d dampen it himself with his huge kind hand – he wasn’t angry with me, he realized we were both on the same side, both struggling against my apish nature, and he knew I had the more difficult struggle.

So what a victory it was for him as well as me, when one evening in front of many onlookers – it may have been a party, a gramophone was playing, an officer was carrying on among the crew-at a moment when no one was watching, I grabbed a bottle of whiskey that had been inadvertently left outside my cage, and did a perfect job of uncorking it-to the increasing attention of the group around me. Then I held the bottle to my lips and without the slightest hesitation or grimace, like a bona fide professional drinker, with round and rolling eyes and letting the liquid slosh into my throat, I really and truly drained the bottle, and threw it away, no longer out of desperation, but as an artist. Of course I forgot to stroke my belly, but for that, because I couldn’t help it, because I felt an irresistible urge, because all my senses were intoxicated – well, to make a long story short I called out “Hello!” in a human voice, and with this call I leaped into the community of humans, and their echo of “Listen to that – he’s talking!” felt like a kiss on my body that was thoroughly drenched with sweat.

I repeat: I never felt any desire to imitate people; I imitated them because I was looking for a way out; that was my only reason. And even this triumph was just a small step. I immediately lost my voice, which I took months to recover, and my aversion to the whiskey bottle came back worse than ever. But my course had been set once and for all.

When I arrived in Hamburg and was handed over to my first trainer, I soon realized that I had two choices: zoological park or variety show. I didn’t hesitate for a second. I told myself to focus all my strength on getting into the variety show, there lies your way out. The zoo is just a new cage, if you end up there, you’re lost.

And study I did, gentlemen. You learn when you have to, when you’re looking for a way out, you learn with no holds barred. You drive yourself with a whip, flogging yourself at the slightest opposition. My apish nature came tumbling out of me so fast that my first teacher nearly went ape himself, as the saying goes. He was soon forced to give up teaching and had to be taken to an institution. Fortunately he was released soon thereafter.

But I wore out many more teachers, even several at once. When I became surer of my own abilities, and the press began to follow my progress and my future began to shine, I hired my own tutors, had them set up in five adjacent rooms, and learned from all of them at once, constantly jumping from one room to the next.

What progress! How the rays of knowledge penetrated my waking brain from all sides! I will not deny it: it made me happy. But I must also confess that I did not overvalue my achievement, neither then nor especially today. Through an unprecedented exertion I managed to acquire the education of your average European, which might not mean a thing in itself, but at least it helped me out my cage, at least it provided me with this way out, this human way. I slipped off into the bush, so to speak-the human bush. I had no other choice, assuming that freedom was never an option.

Looking over my development and its purpose up to this point, I neither complain nor am I fully content. I half-sit, half-lie in my rocker, my hands in my pockets, a bottle of wine on the table, and look out the window. If I have company I show them the proper hospitality. My agent sits in the anteroom; if I ring then he steps in and listens to what I have to say. I perform nearly every evening, and my success could hardly be greater. If I come home late after a banquet, a scientific society, or a friendly evening at someone’s house, a small, half-trained chimpanzee is waiting for me and I have my pleasure with her in the manner of apes. I don’t wish to see her by day, as her eyes have the insanity of the befuddled half-tamed animal, which I alone can recognize, and which I cannot bear.

By and large I have accomplished what I set out to accomplish. It cannot be said it wasn’t worth the effort. Nor am I asking for any human judgment; all I wish to do is disseminate knowledge, I only report, and that is all I have done for you tonight, esteemed members of the Academy: I have reported, and nothing more.

Love Letter

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Darling Sweetheart,

You are my avid fellow feeling. My affection curiously clings to your passionate wish.
My liking yearns to your heart. You are my wistful sympathy: my tender liking.
Yours beautifully,
M.U.C.*

Even with such a designer as Turing, it takes more than imitation-games of consciousness to write a love letter.

Still, isn’t there something about this letter that suggests our own, often inarticulate, longings?

*In this instance, MADAM preferred to call herself M.U.C. (Manchester University Computer). I know how she feels.

(Thanks to John for calling my attention to this bit of sweetness).

Sharing D.H. Lawrence on the Cosmos

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D.H. Lawrence is most well-known for his loverly novels, but I am most fond of his book “Apocalypse.” I picked it up again when it caught my eye, patiently waiting, wedged between Bataille and Baudrillard – out of order, why? I opened it up to a random page, and found this passage. I loved it so much that I want to share it with you.

Perhaps the greatest difference between us and the pagans lies in our different relation to the cosmos. With us, all is personal. Landscape and the sky, they are to us the delicious background of our personal life, and no more. Even the universe of the scientists is little more than an extension of our personality, to us. To the pagan, landscape and personal background were on the whole indifferent. But the cosmos was a very real thing. A man lived with the cosmos, and knew it greater than himself.

Don’t let us imagine we see the sun as the old civilisations saw it. All we see is a scientific little luminary, dwindled to a ball of blazing gas. In the centuries before Ezekiel and John, the sun was still a magnificent reality, men drew forth from him strength and splendor, and gave him back homage and lustre and thanks. But in us, the connection is broken, the responsive centers are dead. Our sun is quite a different thing from the cosmic sun of the ancients, so much more trivial. We may see what we call the sun, but we have lost Helios forever. We have lost the cosmos, by coming out of responsive connection with it, and this is our chief tragedy. What is our petty little love of nature – Nature!! – compared to the ancient magnificent living with the cosmos, and being honored by the cosmos!

And some of the great images of the Apocalypse move us to strange depths, and to a strange wild fluttering of freedom: of true freedom, really, an escape to somewhere, not an escape to nowhere. An escape from the tight little cage of our universe: tight, in spite of all the astronomist’s vast and unthinkable stretches of space: tight, because it is only a continuous extension, a dreary on and on, without any meaning: an escape from this into the vital cosmos, to a sun who has a great wild life, and who looks back at us for strength or withering, marvellous, as he goes his way. Who says the sun cannot speak to me! The sun has a great blazing consciousness, and I have a little blazing consciousness. When I can strip myself of the trash of personal feelings and ideas, and get down to my naked sun-self, then the sun and I can commune by the hour, the blazing interchange, and he gives me life, sun-life, and I send him a little new brightness from the world of the bright blood. The great sun, like an angry dragon, hater of the nervous and personal consciousness in us. All these modern sunbathers must realize, for they become disintegrated by the very sun that bronzes them. But the sun, like a lion, loves the bright red blood of life, and can give it an infinite enrichment if we know how to receive it. But we don’t. We have lost the sun. And he only falls on us and destroys us, decomposing something in us: the dragon of destruction instead of the life-bringer.

And we have lost the moon, the cool, bright, ever-varying moon. It is she who would caress our nerves, smooth them with the silky hand of her glowing, soothe them into serentiy again with her cool presence. For the moon is the mistress and mother of our watery bodies, the pale body of our nervous consciousness and our moist flesh. Oh, the moon could soothe us and heal us like a cool great Artemis between her arms. But we have lost her, in our stupidity we ignore her, and angry she stares down on us and whips us with nervous whips. Oh, beware of the angry Artemis of the night heavens, beware of the spite of Cybele, beware of the vindictiveness of horned Astarte.

For the lovers who shot themselves in the night, in the horrible suicide of love, they are driven mad by the poisoned arrows of Artemis: the moon is against them: the moon is fiercely against them. And oh, if the moon is against you, oh, beware of the bitter night, especially the night of intoxication.

Now this may sound nonsense, but that is merely because we are fools. There is an eternal vital correspondence between our blood and the sun: there is an eternal vital correspondence between our nerves and the moon. If we get out of contact and harmony with the sun and the moon, then both turn into great dragons of destruction against us. The sun is a great source of blood-vitality, it streams strength to us. But once we resist the sun, and say: It is a mere ball of gas! – then the very streaming vitality of sunshine turns into subtle disintegrative force in us, and undoes us. The same with the moon, the planets, the great stars. They are either our makers or our unmakers. There is no escape.

We and the cosmos are one. The cosmos is a vast living body, of which we are still parts. The sun is a great heart whose tremors run through our smallest veins. The moon is a great gleaming nerve-centre from which we quiver forever. Who knows the power that Saturn has over us, or Venus? But it is a vital power, rippling exquisitely through us all the time. And if we deny Aldebaran, Aldebaran will pierce us with infinit dagger-thrusts. He who is not with me is against me! – that is a cosmic law.

Now all this is literally true, as men knew in the great past, and as they will know again.

By the time of John of Patmos, men, especially educated men, had already almost lost the cosmos. The sun, the moon, the planets, instead of being the communers, the comminglers, the life-givers, the splendid ones, the awful ones, had already fallen into a sort of deadness; they were the arbitrary, almost mechanical engineers of fate and destiny. By the time of Jesus, men had turned the heavens into a mechanism of fate and destiny, a prison.

The Christians escaped this prison by denying the body altogether. But alas, these little escapes! especially the escapes by denial! – they are the most fatal of evasions. Christianity and our ideal civilisation have been one long evasion. It has caused endless lying and misery, misery such as people know today, not of physical want but of a far more deadly vital want. Better lack bread than lack life. The long evasion, whose only fruit is the machine!

We have lost the cosmos. The sun strengthens us no more, neither does the moon. In mystic language, the moon is black to us, and the sun is as sackcloth.

Now we have to get back the cosmos, and it can’t be done by a trick. The great range of responses that have fallen dead in us have to come to life again. It has taken two thousand years to kill them. Who knows how long it will take to bring them to life?

When I hear modern people complain of being lonely then I know what has happened. They have lost the cosmos. – It is nothing human and personal that we are short of. What we lack is cosmic life, the sun in us and the moon in us. We can’t get the sun in us by lying naked like pigs on a beach. The very sun that is bronzing us is inwardly disintegrating us – as we know later. Process of katabolism. We can only get the sun by a sort of worship; and the same with the moon. By going forth to worship the sun, worship that is felt in the blood. Tricks and postures only make matters worse.

D.H Lawrence, Apocalypse. Viking Compass Edition, 1966, pp. 41-47. Copyright The Estate of David Herbert Lawrence, 1931.



Hateful Stupidity Infecting the Left Too

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I’ve sometimes been accused of letting the left-wing off the hook in my criticism. Well, today you are in for a treat. I’ve found a pocket of hate and ignorance among some people who label themselves left-wing. I had a little back and forth on Facebook today, and was appalled to see this. Are you kidding me? I recognize the standard moves, but I’m not used to seeing them on the left. Such paranoia! Such hatred! Bah! Boooo!

Elijah ‎[Goddamn this bullshit people. Do some people actually think that everything is a Zionist plot to enslave humanity?]
11:54am
2 people like this.

Mary For Peace: Brother Elijah, I am sad to report that most of the world events MAY actually be Zionist plots. Remember we are in a battle of light versus darkness. There is no rest, we must always be viligant. Peace for all, not just for some is our goal. Be thankful there are people who watch these events, and can discern wickedness from good. We must always be on watch and let the people know. ♥
11:56am

Elijah: To say that is to let off the hook other elements that are active in causing suffering. Other human beings are capable of foul shit too,
11:57am

Kathy: You’re right, evil walks in many garbs. But the NeoCon world vision encompasses many human movements, including Zionism.
11:59am

Mary For Peace: You are right brother. However, let us not ignore the “elephant in the living room” in other words, we all know who causes most of the pain & suffering in the world. It is wise to keep a watch on the Zionists, since they always seem to have a hand in the events of the world.
12:00pm

Heidi: The battle of light versus darkness runs down the center of every soul. What hubris to think that you are watchers – this is just hate. Jesus was a Jew, and all his followers were Jews. You are a sick person to call yourself “Mary for Peace.”
12:00pm

Mary For Peace: OK Heidi, you made your point, no doubt you are a follower of the Hatriot movement or Palin supporter. There is a big difference between a Jew and a Zionist. Please get off the internet and go read a book for a change. Educate yourself before calling names.
12:05pm

Elijah: ‎@Mary, Mrs Heidi is neither. Keep this civil.
12:06pm

Mary For Peace: Ok Elijah…….I understand where you BOTH are coming from. Since she started the name calling and you do nothing about it…..we are at a stand still aren’t we? You must prove yourself here or we will simply take both your words and hers to show what you guys really believe in……..WE ARE WAITING……???
12:08pm

Heidi: I’m left-wing, progressive, and also a religion scholar. Not a Palin supporter. Israel is as divided as the US, and there are all kinds of Zionists. How do you separate what you’ve said from hate speech?
12:08pm

Elijah: @Mary, I have no idea what you are talking about. This is not a war between factions. This is a Facebook status. We are adults and are capable of having a rational discussion on the topic at hand. I don’t really have to prove anything. Just look at my posts.
12:11pm

Mary For Peace: Heidi, both you and Elijah are showing your true colors today here. I am not in the mood to entertain Zionist supporters disguised as peaceful people. You both are trying to pick fights with peacemakers instead of focusing on the true problems. Shame on you both. To pick fights within the ranks is showing that you both support the other side, we know this is a favorite tool of Zionists to try to divide people. Good bye to both of you, I do not waste my time & effort on Zionist trolls here on Facebook.
12:12pm

Heidi: Ummmm…. so this is someone who thinks in a very binary way, I guess. Zionist troll? Wow – that’s a new one for me! lol
12:13pm

Kathy: Seems to me a matter of semantics here. Actually, most progressive souls are divorcing themselves from the Zionist label, even if they support the Israeli people. I think it’s more important for all of us to recognize the neocon world order supercedes Zionism and all other isms. And Heidi did call Mary “sick” first even though Mary’s statement was completely legitimate. But, sorry, Mary, you’re overreacting. Elijah is far from a Zionist troll. By the way, I won’t be back.
12:13pm

Elijah: Zionist supporter? Really? I do not support the Israeli regime in any way. But I do recognize there are other forces out there that seek to control and imprison the minds of people. Everything isn’t a Zionist plot to destroy the world.
12:14pm

Heidi: I do think that it is pathological to call yourself Mary for Peace while expressing hatred for a whole group of Jews, and invoking pseudochristian biblical interpretations…
12:15pm

Mary For Peace: Kathy, you are right, Heidi owes me an apology for calling names. However, what does she and Elijah expect when they pick the fights? Do you guys think people will roll over and allow you to walk upon them? NOT THIS PERSON. SORRY. Elijah is DELETED for not speaking out, if he put someone into check for their name calling…..HOW CAN HE STAND UP FOR BIGGER CAUSES?
12:16pm

Heidi: I don’t support the current right-wing policies of Israel, but I would make a distinction between opposing policies and hating people. Evidently that’s not seen as “peaceful”? Very odd.
12:16pm

Mary For Peace: I love the Jewish people……but I DO NOT LOVE ZIONIST POLICIES. Like I said before…..please educate yourself. Even many Jews in Israel do not support their Zionist regime!
12:17pm

Heidi: Perhaps you should leave it to others to discern evil from good. Just sayin’.
12:17pm

Crystal: Mary may I suggest stepping down from your pedestal? Reading through the comments the hate & name-calling started and ended with you. I think there are much better ways to get ones point across.
12:18pm

Elijah: Pick fights? I’m just not a fan of this extreme hatred of Jewish people. I’m a student of history and knows what happened to the Jewish people for the actions of their elite. I see the same sort of hatred rising up again.
12:18pm

Heidi: Perhaps you might also look up the history of the word Zionist before telling others to educate themselves?
12:18pm

Elijah: So Mary I’m on the other side? Really? If that is the case so be it. I think for myself and am not a slave of group thought.
12:19pm

Elijah: So much for that. Feelings go so hurt that I’m deleted and blocked. Oh fucking well. Everything ain’t a Zionist plot and some people are weak as shit.
12:23pm

Heidi: Sorry, Elijah. If it’s important to you, maybe you can patch it up. Didn’t mean to mess anything up. The performative irony of the accusations reminded me of so many other haters that masquerade as compassionate people that I took it as a teachable moment. Guess not.
12:25pm

Heather: well said my friend…well said!
12:27pm

Elijah:‎ @Heidi, I’m not going to budge honestly. Blind hatred of Jewish people often results in mass slaughter. The Middle Ages, The Russian Revolution, the Holocaust. I do hate the Zionist elite with a freaking passion. But often times the blind hate gets taken on on the people who are just like us. If Mary can’t see that, then she doesn’t need to be Facebook friends with me.
12:29pm

Heidi:Even Wikipedia has a decent entry on the history of Zionism. I have no real problem with Israel as homeland, but there needs to be peace in the region – and fairness. I do get nervous with any kind of supernationalism (including in the USA). However, the religious overtones made her references much more a matter of anti-Semitism than of opposition to policy. What “plots”? Sheesh.
12:29pm

Elijah:It is bad in some respects in the anti Zionist movement. You have people who will latch on and believe in crap like the Elders of the Protocols of Zion. It is sad.
12:31pm

Heidi: Besides, I prefer to keep the “watchers” in the angelic function. It’s not our job.
12:31pm
Heidi: Remember humility?
12:32pm
Heidi: Judge not?
12:33pm
Heidi: Sigh.
12:33pm

Heidi: I just don’t understand how anyone can believe that hate leads to peace. It never has, and it never will.
12:33pm

Elijah: But many times people don’t see their actions as hate.
12:34pm

Heidi: That’s why it needs to be called out.
12:35pm
Heidi: Her very first comment made it very clear.
12:36pm

Elijah: Agreed. To blame everything on Zionists is to let the other criminals off the hook.
12:41pm

Robyn: I think the Pentacostals are run by a bunch of angry Christian Giraffes out to destroy Trader Joe’s. So forget your Zionists…this is the real threat.
12:57pm

Robyn: Hey at least my conspiracy isnt’ full of irrational hate
12:58pm

Erica: You’re either with me, or you’re a Zionist? :)
1:17pm

Cheryl: “I am sad to report that most of the world events MAY actually be Zionist plots.” I don’t see this as antisemitism at all. Many Christians are Zionists. I actually agree with her statement here. It is not saying everything is a result of Zionism but Zionism is a major cause of destruction in the world today and THAT my friend is the elephant in the room!
I don’t know Mary and I don’t even know if we are FB friends right at the moment. To be honest I was more offended by some of Heidi’s comments than Mary’s. Maybe Mary got more upset then you feel she should have. I did see it as Heidi was directly attacking Mary from the start when Mary was speaking in general and not about any particular person here at 1st. Heidi you started it.
How about this below Heidi the “religion scholar” I guess you were taught from that faulty Scofield Reference bible or not? The one that has deceived Christians for decades now?

http://www.biblebelievers.org.au/jesusjew.htm

“Jesus was a ‘Judean’, not a Jew.”
“During His lifetime, no persons were described as “Jews” anywhere. That fact is supported by theology, history and science. When Jesus was in Judea, it was not the “homeland” of the ancestors of those who today style themselves “Jews”. Their ancestors never set a foot in Judea. They existed at that time in Asia, their “homeland”, and were known as Khazars. In none of the manuscripts of the original Old or New Testament was Jesus described or referred to as a “Jew”. The term originated in the late eighteenth century as an abbreviation of the term Judean and refers to a resident of Judea without regard to race or religion, just as the term “Texan” signifies a person living in Texas.”"
In spite of the powerful propaganda effort of the so-called “Jews”, they have been unable to prove in recorded history that there is one record, prior to that period, of a race religion or nationality, referred to as “Jew”. The religious sect in Judea, in the time of Jesus, to which self-styled “Jews” today refer to as “Jews”, were known as “Pharisees”. “Judaism” today and “Pharisaism” in the time of Jesus are the same.”
“Jesus abhorred and denounced “Pharisaism”; hence the words, “Woe unto you Scribes and Pharisees, Hypocrites, Ye Serpents, Ye Generation of Vipers”.
3:21pm

Cheryl Brownlee:
Then head over to:

http://www.whtt.org/newwhtt/

“Were it not for mega millions of misled Christian Zionists in America who support Israel’s warmaking agenda in the Middle East there would be no occupation of Iraq and Afghanistan and Philistin…e, and children could sleep soundly in Lebanon, Iran and Gaza confident that no american made bombs would fall on their beds tonight.”
“Zionism denies most basic teaching of Jesus and the Prophets. The church-centered pro-Zionist group that influence the largest voting bloc in the U.S.A, practice the reverse of what their leaders say they believe. Southern Baptists and most non-denominational mega-churches are led by TV celebrities, profess that the Bible is the literal, inerrant word of God, preserved by His hand. They teach not from the ancient words, but from man added footnotes and commentaries inserted into several popular study bibles, which often avoid or deny Jesus words.”
Now Heidi call ME antisemitic! I despise ALL Zionists and their supporters many whom call themselves Christians. Which category are you in as far as religion goes? I was raised in a Christian home I have some Zionists in my own family that know I am against their un-Christlike support of Israel and its wars against the Muslims.
You wanna talk about discrimination? Let us talk about the Muslims or how about the genocide of some of my ancestors the Native Americans?!!! There are many genocides to speak of besides the “Jews” and their “6 million”. Yet why is everything focused on them? Many more Christians and Native Americans have been genocided than that. They sure don’t print THAT in our government funded text books in schools do they now? Where are THEIR museums Heidi that make us forever feel responsible and sorry for them?
“Thus, according to Ward Churchill, a professor of ethnic studies at the University of Colorado, the reduction of the North American Indian population from an estimated 12 million in 1500 to barely 237,000 in 1900 represents a “vast genocide . . . , the most sustained on record.” Some say the number is even higher than this!
About that Scofield hoax played upon the Christian Zionists:
http://www.sweetliberty.org/issues/hoax/scofield.htmSee More
3:52pm

Heidi: Um… actually, the Pharisees were one faction, the legalistic one. And I will reiterate that there are many kinds of Zionism in addition to the flavor of the year. I think the US is at least as much to blame, if not more so, for pre-emptive war. Your scholarship is faulty, but I’m not going to argue with “true believers” because I’ve found it to be a pointless exercise. If you wanted to, you could research the topic among people who are actually trained in the fields that you are cherry-picking. I don’t take seriously a website that is focused on paranoia and the “Illuminati” – all obsessions of the far-right as well. Yes, many Native Americans were killed as well. Lots of people all over the world have been killed. It’s not a contest for biggest victim. Seriously?
4:34pm

Heidi: Here’s how you know not to take someone seriously as an adult: “Remember we are in a battle of light versus darkness…We must always be on watch and let the people know.” Putting things in terms of demonization is childish and inaccurate, and slows down real progess.
4:36pm

Heidi: Oh – and there is general agreement about both the King James and the Scofield bible, as well as the “New World Translation” and others. Real scholars read in the original languages or from a concordance of reputable translations. No points.
4:40pm

Heidi: Perhaps you could do less despising and more constructive actions for the causes you support? Just a thought.
4:40pm

I’m against the imperialist goals of neo-cons, and I do believe that Israel has taken a turn to the hard-right in its policies. But I also know that the USA has become much more right-wing – in its policies of the Bush doctrine of pre-emptive war, the ongoing wars, the disregard of the actual needs of the American people, the corruption toward the very top of the economic ladder, and a million other things.

It’s so very tiresome and predictable to fear-monger and scapegoat. Why not direct some valid criticism where it belongs?

Mix paranoia with religion, and ugliness ensues. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I just didn’t know that there were apocalyptic pseudo-Christians on the left, too. The ones on the right make much more noise.

American Fascists: Language… and Reality

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What a beautiful present on a Saturday morning! It is rare to see someone write on this set of issues with such precision and clarity. Gigantic kudos to Jeff Fecke, and a huge thank you to Mark Crispin Miller for sharing this with me!

The F Word
By Jeff Fecke | October 27, 2010
Please go comment on the original post!

There are epithets that decent people shy away from using. One obvious example is the use of racist, ethnic, or gender-based slurs. If you’re a decent human being, you don’t use them, because one uses them to hurt, to malign, to defame.

But it is not just slurs on one’s person that we avoid. We also avoid slurs on one’s political philosophy. Describing someone as a Nazi, for example, is rightly seen as beyond the pale. It says a person is a believer in an ideology that led to the slaughter of six million innocent people, and ignited a global war that killed millions more. Unless a person actually is a follower of Hitler’s philosophy, describing them as a Nazi is not only inaccurate, it’s pejorative. And the same is true of other discredited, vile, or simply discarded epithets, like communist1, or Maoist, or totalitarian; unless a person actually is a communist, Maoist, or totalitarian, describing them as such is simply rude, and is designed to create far more heat than light.

But sometimes, the shoe fits. There are still Nazis, after all. There are still segregationists. Still anti-Semites. Still communists. Some of these people wear their positions proudly, like the perky neo-Nazi with the swastika tattoo on her head who frequents my local convenience store.2 Most, however, hold their positions without admitting to the label that defines them — as the label itself describes a belief system that has been rejected by everyone.

This is why people who proudly use racial epithets will refuse the epithet “racist.” They are racists, of course, but they will not wear the mantle, because racism is bad, and everyone agrees on that. Of course, they may believe that people of different races shouldn’t mix, and that people of a given race are inferior to people of another race, and that people of a different race moving into a country will destroy it. But don’t call them racist — they’ll pitch a fit.

And this is, of course, the other reason decent people shy away from applying the most loaded political labels to their opponents — because they don’t want to have to have the fight. Because no matter how much your opponent says Stalin had some good ideas, calling her a Stalinist will only lead to a fight about how she isn’t one.

And yet — sometimes you simply have to call a racist a racist. If a person is advancing all the tenets of racism, then that person is in fact a racist. And standing by and pretending that person isn’t racist is playing into their hands, by allowing them the fiction that their racism is not racism, but something benign.
And that lets radicalism in through the back door, and lets decent people advance radical views without admitting to being radicals. And slowly, that makes radical views acceptable.

There is a political philosophy that you are probably familiar with. Among its core tenets are:

  • Nationalism – The people of its country are special, and the founders of the nation as uniquely wise — and people of all other nations are inherently dangerous. People who do not fully assimilate are viewed as threats to be dealt with.
  • Social Darwinism - Those who are poor are poor because of their own flaws and failings, and if they can’t work, they don’t deserve to eat.
  • Propaganda - It uses its own media outlets (when out of power) or state-controlled media (when in power) to support its own viewpoint while ridiculing others.
  • Anti-Intellectualism -It ridicules the pointy-headed intellectuals with their large words and their big plans, in favor of the simple, salt-of-the-earth man on the street, and the wisdom of the Average Joe.
  • Heroism – National heroes are not just heroes, but uniquely heroic, uniquely wise. No other country’s heroes were as brilliant and crafty, and no other nation’s enemies more deserving of punishment.
  • Social Authoritarianism – When people fall away from morality, the power of the state can and should be used to push them back in line.
  • Militarism – The military is the best and most respectable part of the nation, and war should be supported unblinkingly whenever an enemy threatens.
  • Corporatism – The power of the government can be used to intervene economically, but almost always on the side of corporations — as it believes that companies create wealth
  • Anti-Communism – Communism — usually defined as “other political philosophies” — represents an existential threat to our way of life, and must be defeated at any and all costs.

The adherents of this philosophy believe that they are saving their nation from the weak, the Communists, the intellectuals. They see their country as at a crossroads, and believe that if the wrong turn is taken, it will cease to be a great nation, and will become like all the rest of those lousy states. Because they believe that they are the saviors of their nation, they are willing to do almost anything to gain power — lie, pull dirty tricks, and resort to violence against political opponents. Indeed, in every country where this philosophy has taken hold, it has used extrajudicial action by its members to intimidate its opponents.

If you have been paying attention, you know that there is a political movement in this country that mirrors these views. Its members claim that America is a unique country, a shining city on a hill. That the Founding Fathers were wise beyond any reckoning, and that any deviation from the course they set us on is tantamount to blasphemy. That immigration (and, sotto voce, racial and gender equality) is destroying the uniqueness of the American experiment, and that we keep moving away from the good ol’ days of the 1950s to a place that would make the founders blanch in horror.

These people have their own news network that tells them what they want to hear, that lies to them brazenly, that calls their opponents socialists and secret Muslims. They mistrust intellectuals, rage against the well-educated, claim that deep thinking is un-American. They believe that the government should use its power to keep people from getting abortions, and to discourage homosexuality. They believe that the unemployed are lazy, and that they should either work, or starve.

They are worshipful of the idea of the military and of citizen militias. They do speak out against corporate greed, half-heartedly, but oppose any action that might impose limitations of corporations — and are indeed happy to support corporate welfare whenever they get the opportunity, so long as they can call it something else.

They say they are doing all of this because of the threat from socialism, which is a word that in America has become conflated with communism.
And they are most definitely using extrajudicial violence and intimidation to get their way.

In America, in 2010, these people call themselves the Tea Party. They say they are trying to get our nation back to its founding principles, deliberately using iconography from the American Revolution to stake a claim that they represent the last, best hope of Real America.

They may see themselves that way, but that is not the right way to describe them. The philosophy they endorse is a well-known one, one described by one word.
Fascism.

You may object to my calling the Tea Party a fascist movement. I understand. I don’t like doing so myself. But they are far closer to fascism than the modern Democratic Party is to socialism. And Democrats being socialist is an article of faith among the far right of the Republican Party.

I don’t like calling my opponents fascist. But the shoe fits — at least among the farthest of the far right, the group that has taken over the modern Republican Party. The path that the Palins and Angles and Millers and their ilk would have us take is the same that Mussolini charted for Italy. They’ve prettied it up, of course. They’ve sanded off the edges. And they’ve added the extra dimension of religion to it — the idea that we are fighting a war against Islam, which is in league with socialism, and that Christianity must be bolstered.

But that was predicted. Sinclair Lewis once wrote, “When fascism comes to America it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying a cross.” Well, my friends, fascism has come to America, flag and cross and all. And if we do not say so — if we dare not name it, for fear of riling our opponents — we let them mainstream their views. And that inaction would be far worse than any word can be.

–
1Note: communist, not socialist. Communism, specifically the brand that was attempted in the Soviet Union and its client states, has been tried, and it failed spectacularly; it rivals Naziism for the most evil political philosophy of the 20th century. A version of socialism, contrawise, has been made to work rather well in places like Sweden and Denmark, without the terror wrought by Stalin and his ilk. One can argue whether socialism is a good or bad political system, but it is not an inherently evil one.
2Do you think I could possibly be making that up?

The New Response to a Facebook Add Request

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I admit it. I added people just to have enough players in games. I might have created lists for different kinds of trust levels in the network, but I still added people I really only knew in a superficial way, or didn’t really know at all.

One list is for people from high school – whatever happens with any of them is what people used to call “a trip” -always a journey of some kind, sometimes delightful, sometimes challenging. Sometimes I discover that there is really a lot more to like, or to learn, about someone. Sometimes it seems that whatever used to resonate between us in friendship is just gone. Another is a set of sometimes-intersecting groups of people who share a type of religious or organizational history with me, or perhaps even just an idea or interest. Some are friends from places I’ve lived, learned, worked – or just in the pathways of life. There are folks who are recommended as a potential mutual friend. There are, of course, the apps people. And others where the reason has escaped me; some of those have become friends over time.

I’ve defriended some people. I’ve been defriended too. It’s all good.

However – after two nights under a full moon – a moon of love, after all, in the spirit of Diana or Athena… I had an idea. It might have been the lightning. The thunderstorms. The synergy of thoughts.

I decided to respond to a friend add request with something more interesting than usual. It’s an experiment. Some may call me a snob or an elitist (do I care about your defensiveness if my response is “yea, I don’t think so?” A little. Not much.). Time is short, and thriving is difficult. It’s ok to have placeholder keep-in-touch Facebook friends. I don’t need to be in close contact with everyone. However, I want friendships that are fun, enriching, beneficial – or at least entertaining. There are all sorts of levels of interaction. From now on, there must be a reason that you’re not on the chaff list, to be – eventually – defriended.

There is a whole world of new etiquette through social networks, especially Facebook. It’s in development, changing rapidly. This is a time when such an experiment – just for my own interest, curiosity, and occasional amusement – might say something. What? I don’t know. Let’s see.

As a thought experiment, imagine if you sent your own version of this as a response! Oh, and current FB friends: Feel free to message me there in answer to this too – that would be interesting!

Do Your Own Version of a Friend Request Response

Thank you for the friend add request.

You look from your picture as though: Pick all that apply (you might have a sense of humor, you’re a fan of KISS, you’re part of a trusted group of mutual friends, etc.).

I’m responding because: Pick all that apply (we have mutual friends that I like, trust and respect; we have mutual interests; Apps; or other – specify).

Did someone recommend me as a friend to you? Are you using “Friend Finder?” Why, in fact, are you requesting to be added as a friend?

If I should decide not to add you – or in the future decide to defriend you – would you be interested in a farewell note in which an authentic explanation is offered to you? Or would you choose that I depart silently? Please indicate your preference.

Best, Heidi

Pros and Cons: If I’m wrong about the interpretation of a quick read from a photograph, it could be embarrassing. However, since I have no idea who the requester might be, other than what I can derive from a photo and any viewable pieces of the profile, I think it’s fair to describe first impressions.

Would such a response to a friend add request yet shock the recipient? I think it might, but I’m not sure.

Would posting this on the blog attract trolls? Maybe, hope not. I deleted something like “If you don’t follow my thought process, speak now.” It’s kind of mean, and needlessly antagonistic, for a first encounter.

Such a note is what I will send henceforth (can I get a trumpet, some graceful uncurling flag?). I can’t believe something like this didn’t occur to me before. I had a very basic version, but nothing that got to the heart of the matter.

I’ll keep the responses to myself, until such time as there is anything to say about it. If there is anything worth writing about, that would be fab.

Is there anything you’d add to this? Something I’m forgetting? Comment with your thoughts and ideas!

For Ex-JWs – Sites to Explore

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Sites for Recovering Jehovah’s Witnesses to Explore

Scroll to the bottom if you’re not in the mood for this!

Over the years, I’ve noted that the quality and helpfulness of former JW sites varies quite a bit. Some are very angry, while others are more compassionate. Some are able to create spaces to share insights with one another, some are more combative with peers. Some are focused on biblical interpretation, others on issues like abuse and shunning. More recently, I’ve noticed an upsurge of writers that – like myself – have focused on what it takes to follow your own path and walk an authentic spirituality that is not particularly driven by past experiences. I’ve also found a decrease in the purple prose, and more of a matter-of-fact approach that comes with time and experience.

I developed a list of online resources for ex-JWs some time ago, but here’s a more updated list.
These cover a range of thoughts and approaches. Check them out!

Some of that is pretty dark.

Now you need something else, don’t you?

My dear friend Lin shared an article with me on disfunctional beliefs that former Jehovah’s Witnesses might still carry with them.

It probably helps that she herself is not a JW or a former JW. She really has a handle on the central problem of how some aspects of the Watchtower psychology/ideology prevent their adherents ( and post-adherents) from leaving, loving, and thriving. I think some of us would go further and reject the very word “apostate” because its connectations are too deeply ingrained.

Not only is the article itself an excellent resource for former Jehovah’s Witnesses, but I’m very impressed with the quality of the whole site – Mindful Construct. I wish that all recovering JWs had access to such an insightful and caring cognitive counsellor, someone who could interact with them in just this way. And – I was honored that my tips for former JWs article was linked as a resource!

Here, try these too:

Oh – and watch the sublime Sister Wendy talk about art whenever you can. She functions for me in much the same way that Mr. Rogers did when I was a child.

Derrida

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I love humor, even when it’s aimed at my heroes. Jacques Derrida was hopelessly misunderstood by much of the American audience, but there is a grain of truth in much of this:

Fair enough. But really… let’s think about intellectual courage…

Yeah, Derrida has a lot going on. He is sometimes very difficult to read. And it’s easy to make fun of Derrida and deconstruction, and to think what it means is that there is no basis for justice or ethics. Many so-called religious leaders make this mistake, and far too many academics do as well.

There is no more careful reader than Derrida was – and to start to understand what is at stake, you have to develop the skills to read and to think in ways that are a little different than what you might be accustomed to, but it’s worth it.

A careful reader can easily discern that not only does his work *not* discard or undermine ethics and justice, but it really demands better forms of both than what many of his detractors can offer or (in many cases) care to offer.

The following is probably as clear as Derrida gets on these issues in a short space. Read slowly and carefully, and then try to argue that Derrida was proposing that we have no obligation to pursue (and construct, and deconstruct, and reconstruct) our truths in the light of ethics and justice….

I do not believe that the whole ‘left’ in general is more occupied with cultural identity than with social justice. But if some who call themselves leftists had done so they would deserve Rorty’s critique. On this point and to a certain extent I would agree with him, for then two grave risks would have been neglected: first, though legitimate in certain situations and within certain limits, the demands of cultural identity (and this word comprises all ‘communitarisms’, of which there are many) can often feed into ‘ideologies’ of the right – nationalist, fundamentalist, even racist. Secondly, the left may relegate to the background and gravely neglect other struggles, social and civic solidarities and universal causes (transnational and not merely cosmopolitical, because the cosmopolitical supposes again the agency of the state and of the citizen, be it the citizen of the world – we will return to this). But why must one choose between the care for cultural identity and the worry about social justice? They are both questions of justice, two responses to anti-egalitarian oppression or violence. No doubt it is very hard to lead both of these debates in the same rhythm, but one can fight both fronts, cultural and social, at the same time, as it were, and one must do so. The task of the intellectual is to say this, to mediate the discourses and to elaborate strategies that resist any simplistic choice between the two. In both cases, the effective responsibility for engagement consists in doing everything to transform the status quo in the two areas, between them, from one to another, the cultural and the social, to establish a new law, even if they remain forever inadequate for what I call justice (which is not the law, even if it determines its history and progress).

There is no ‘politics’, no law, no ethics without the responsibility of a decision which, to be just, cannot content itself with applying existing norms or rules but must take the absolute risk, in every singular instant, or justifying itself again, alone, as if for the first time, even if it is inscribed in a tradition. For lack of space, I cannot explain here the discourse on decision that I try to elaborate elsewhere. A decision, though mine, active and free in its phenomenon, cannot be the simple deployment of my potentialities or aptitudes, of what is ‘possible for me’. In order to be a decision, it must interrupt that ‘possible’, tear off my history and thus be above all, in a certain strange way, the decision of the other in me: come from the other in view of the other in me. It must in a paradoxical way permit and comprise a certain passivity that in no way allays my responsibility. These are the paradoxes that are difficult to integrate in a classical philosophical discourse, but I do not believe that a decision, if it exists, would be possible otherwise.

In my eyes what you call ‘a kind of political metaphysics’ would be exactly the forgetting of aporia itself, which we often try to do. But the aporia cannot be forgotten. What would a ‘pragmatics’ be that consisted in avoiding contradictions, problems apparently without solution, etc.? Do you not think that this supposedly realistic or empirical ‘pragmatics’ would be a kind of metaphysical reverie, in the most unrealistic and imaginary sense one gives these words?

One has to do everything to see the laws of hospitality inscribed in positive law. If this is impossible, everyone must judge, in their soul and conscience, sometimes in a ‘private’ manner, what (when, where, how, to what extent) has to be done without the laws or against the laws. To be precise: when some of us have appealed to civil disobedience in France on behalf of those without identifying papers (and for a small number among us – for example in my seminar, but publicly – more than a year before the press began to discuss this and before the number of protesters grew to be spectacular), it was not an appeal to transgress the law in general, but to disobey those laws which to us seemed themselves to be in contradiction with the principles inscribed in our constitution, to international conventions and to human rights, thus in reference to a law we considered higher if not unconditional. It was in the name of this higher law that we called for ‘civil disobedience’, within certain limited conditions. But I will not reject the word ‘grace’ (of the unconditional gift and without return) that you offered to me, provided that one does not associate it with obscure religious connotations which, though they can sometimes be interesting, would call for quite different discussions.

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