Like all teachers, I have this one student essay that epitomizes the forbearance required to mold young minds. (I keep it in my pocket, for those not-so-rare moments when someone questions my commitment to the profession ... or pain.) Its author was a child whose belief in his own genius was only outstripped by the arrogance with which he communicated it. A sampling:
Debunking Kant's argument in full is now a simple matter of proving the self-evident ...
Refuting Kant is simple! Bet you didn't know that. All those professional philosophers who devoted years of their lives to understanding him must be embarrassed now. Had they but known that a lowly undergraduate could render Kant irrelevant! But wait! Our young savior thinks Kant may still merit a place our intellectual orbit:
Kant could be defended on account of his belief that judgments of taste, inasmuch as they concern themselves with objects of beauty, are aconceptual, because aconceptuality effectively eliminates the need for education in determinations of beauty.
Huzzah! We can keep Kant! Unless ... unless that "could be" is conditional. I fear this student's novel use of "aconceptual." (It would've caused an epiphanic recognition of the writer's brutal genius in any reasonably intelligent person. Lest ye be dull, the writer thwacks you with the cudgel of his savage brilliance by nouning his neologism.) By now I should know better; but still, I held out hope for dear Immanuel. Alas:
But since I have shown that "common sense" and aconceptuality are both little more than the unconscious cultural constructions of an intellectual elite, it would be naive to mount a defense of Kant on this front.
And it is, because he had:
What if I were to see a pile of shit that, for whatever reason, satisfied me in that way particular to beauty? In Kant’s system of thought this example would be reckoned an impossibility, because "common sense" dictates that since I cannot reasonably believe that anyone else would consider this pile of shit beautiful, I cannot myself be satisfied by it. In all likelihood it would not be considered beautiful by the cultural elite, if for no other reason than its being a pile of shit. In this admittedly extreme example we can see the dynamic at work in the determination of the beautiful, in that, since I can only consider beautiful what I believe everyone else would, I am more than likely to find beautiful those things which I can safely consider to be beautiful.
Inspired! Genius! Who among you refuses raving? The inspired genius speaks of piles of shit. To be so inspired, and by such genius, is the a feeling few among us will ever know. Treasure this, your memory of basking, then prepare yourself (as much as you, being you, can) for the reveal:
The world that Kant unknowingly created is therefore one of arrogant institutions and a timid populace, reluctant to find beauty in extremes or satisfaction in the margins.
Will someone get this man a MacArthur already? He's clearly deserving. Or are you unfamiliar with his oeuvre?
Sisyphus, the performance artist with the nakedness and the chocolate syrup was Karen Finley (who is a performance artist of the kick-ass rather than tedious variety).
Posted by: JPool | Wednesday, 10 October 2007 at 03:01 PM
*laugh* You got the executive summary of my story, but it really does have all the important information.
What happened was, I decided to go around asking people I respected what they thought the meaning of life was. Most of them gave me silly answers or refused to answer at all because they thought I was being a smartass. (Where they got that idea I cannot imagine.) My high school band director was one of the only people to give me a "serious" answer. In fact, he got this really smug, self-satisfied look when I asked him and said he'd tell me later. The answer he finally gave me: "We are put on earth to praise god."
Well, I didn't like that answer, and I liked even less the other answers I'd gotten (none of them memorable); thus the decision that I'd try philosophy first, and the trip to the library. I honestly have NO idea why I ended up with Kant in particular. There was also some Schopenhauer, and I think maybe Plato -- I'm not sure what else. I probably just looked up "Philosophy" in the card catalog and picked random stuff. I also have no idea why I started with the Germans, but I tried Kant and Schopenhauer and then gave up. It's too bad because if I had started with Plato, I might have actually understood enough to distract myself, at least.
So I went to church. Because I didn't understand Kant. Everyone was very, very, very sweet and nice to me, so I let them talk me into being a Christian, because there were precious few other folks in my small southern town who were willing to be nice to the sort of high school student who tries to read Kant to discover the meaning of life.
It didn't last very long though, because I eventually figured out that the people I went to church with (a) thought I was a weirdo for being so interested in theology and church history, (b) were a bunch of sexist racist assholes, and (c) hated my Jewish boyfriend. They didn't know him, or anything about him but that he was Jewish, but that didn't matter.
The boyfriend -- long distance -- came to visit one weekend as I was in the midst of figuring all this out, and I stayed in bed with him Sunday morning instead of going to church. The contrast made a big impression on me, I guess; I didn't have any trouble deciding which was more satisfying. I never went back to church. So I guess you might say all I really needed was to get laid.
I am a historian now. I'd still rather not read Kant, if I can help it.
Posted by: human | Wednesday, 10 October 2007 at 04:09 PM
Human, this incredible tale must be, as anything that is really worth anything, made into a movie-film - as i was reading your nostalgic yet slightly ironic account, i kept hearing the deep male voice of a previews guy telling the short version of your story - this movie-film would have everything: character development, search for the meaning of life, Kant, and sex - anyone interested?
Posted by: Lou Deeptrek | Wednesday, 10 October 2007 at 04:53 PM
Human and J.S. Nelson, those were too good to just be comments. Hope you don't mind.
Posted by: SEK | Wednesday, 10 October 2007 at 05:15 PM
A movie! Excellent. It may have to be a two-parter, though, because we definitely have to work in the part where I haul my privileged white ass to the inner city for the summer to teach black kids "conflict resolution" so that they won't join gangs.
It'll be a blockbuster.
Posted by: human | Wednesday, 10 October 2007 at 06:13 PM
hmmm, you speak the words of something that looks very much like the truth, this innercity/urban youth twist could allow for a great character development sequence - i say, to incorporate all the wisdome of today's discussion, you go to the innercity to teach kids about "Utilitarianism" that you claim you have discovered but then you are enlightened by a rough looking gangster type who is really a sensitive young man with a soft spot for Kant (as you discover later when you two become close mentor/mentee pair)... we must throw in issues of racism, underclass, poverty and more sex - i'll have my people call your people and start fishing for some production money - oh it is destined to be a buster of some kind, i'm sure!
Posted by: Lou Deeptrek | Wednesday, 10 October 2007 at 06:28 PM
Sisyphus, the performance artist with the nakedness and the chocolate syrup was Karen Finley (who is a performance artist of the kick-ass rather than tedious variety).
JPool, awesome! Thanks for helping me out with remembering Karen Finley . The "Interior Scroll" artist is Carolee Schneeman --- don't click here! --- but I still haven't figured out the artist of mold and decay.
These artists are fun regardless of whether SEK was anticipating their aesthetics in his critical juvenalia. They have nothing to do with utilitarianism whether or not it has been independently derived. And I would simply like to add that "Zizeckian oomph" has a lovely ring to it.
Posted by: Sisyphus | Wednesday, 10 October 2007 at 07:08 PM
cann't you just see Zizek sitting at some table in front of the audience and instead of doing the usual "let me scratch my beard and talk about everything at once" just saying "oomph, oomph, oomph" for like a good half-an-hour? speaking of independent inventions, i personally invented the word "oomph" - true story! only i spelled it "oumph" until someone told me i was misspelling "oomph" - i, of course, told them that i made the word up to imitate the sound, it was rather embarrassing to discover that dictionary.reference.com - which i use as my guide - indeed has it in the "oomph" spelling and define it as: "1. energy; vitality; enthusiasm. 2. sex appeal." so he is my confession...
Posted by: Lou Deeptrek | Wednesday, 10 October 2007 at 07:28 PM
Just caught this:
The only solution for my arrogance was the whip ... and I'm glad I got it.
(raises eyebrow with a smirk.)
cann't you just see Zizek sitting at some table in front of the audience and instead of doing the usual "let me scratch my beard and talk about everything at once" just saying "oomph, oomph, oomph" for like a good half-an-hour?
Now you have the image stuck in my mind, except he's doing the little breakdown at the end of that Justin Timberlake song ... either thought is horrifying, but the two combined may put me over the edge.
Posted by: Sisyphus | Wednesday, 10 October 2007 at 11:07 PM
This is what happens when you think too much. All my whips are belong to metaphor, but I can't speak for Lou. His Zizek may freestyle ... and if so, more power to him. I'd love to see him battle. He'd lose, of course, but what with that Slovenian lisp, him being there would be matter of pride enough.
Posted by: SEK | Wednesday, 10 October 2007 at 11:21 PM
ok, i think this thread show be declared officially dead - in fact, a new Rule of Blogging: anytime there is a mention of a dancing Zizek, or a rapping Zizek, or oomphing Zizek, the posting must stop and a new thread must start. as per Zizek's freestyline, Scott, i think you are wrong - isn't it what he pretty much does on a daily basis? everytime he speaks in public, and i'm sure in private as well, it's one long freestyle battle...
Posted by: Lou Deeptrek | Wednesday, 10 October 2007 at 11:50 PM
Not to miss the point entirely, but there is a clear flaw in the referenced undergraduate paper. The existence of the disorders coprophilia and coprophagia suggests that there is potential for the existence of individuals who would find a steaming pile of shit beautiful.
Posted by: Cap'n Morgan | Thursday, 11 October 2007 at 05:41 PM
The sudden declaration of rules aside, I actually like Zizek (one of the advantages of belonging to a discipline where one can pluck insights rather than worrying about method), but dude's got no flow. Too many thoughts in his head, his mouth can never keep up. Even when reading from a prepared text.
Posted by: JPool | Friday, 12 October 2007 at 10:43 AM
JPool, that's because his prepared text is as messy as the stuff in his head - i think he laughs at the idea of the "prepared text" - maybe that's his own kind of flow - it is tiring though; if you ever see one of those videos of him talking at some conference, i usually need to pause and do something for a while before getting back into it - i wonder what it's like in his head?
Posted by: Lou Deeptrek | Friday, 12 October 2007 at 05:45 PM
I really like Rich Puchalsky's comment- from back in the pre-Zizek era- about turning the dial down. I'd love to see more pretension at my university- I mostly get students that are just angry that they have to read Kant at all. The few 'uppity little snots' that I get are refreshing because at least they see value in intellect and eventually their pretension might give way to actual accomplishment.
Posted by: rufus | Monday, 15 October 2007 at 11:10 AM