Freedom: Physical, Mental, or Social?

Introduction

    Feminist discourse attempts to determine a means for women to achieve freedom through the elimination of oppression. However, the multitude of definitions for "woman", "freedom" and "oppression", the ultimate goal of freedom for women have produced several streams of feminist thought. For the purposes of this discussion, I will focus on the cooperation or opposition within social values/norms as well as the connection/disjunction between the mind and the body as gateways to freedom. My Body is My Art: Cosmetic Surgery as a Feminist Utopia, Kathy Davis discusses the validity of cosmetic surgery as a means of achieving self-determination. In order to address the issue, Davis compares women attempting to cosmetically alter their bodies in order to become more beautiful with the work of Susan Orlan, a body performance artist who uses cosmetic surgery in order to mock social standards of beauty. While Davis focuses on the conception of beauty in relation to cosmetic surgery, her discussion points to the larger issue of freedom. Women attempting to cosmetically alter their bodies to make their "outsides match their insides" are trying to achieve self-determination by emphasizing the connection between mind and body, whereas Orlan is trying to achieve self-determination by utilizing cosmetic surgery to widen the gap between mind and body. I argue that Davis' My Body is My Art: Cosmetic Surgery as a Feminist Utopia represents two esoteric views which attempt to achieve freedom through either cooperation with social norms or complete rejection of said social norms.

Mind-Body as a Gateway to Freedom

     The relationship between the mind and body is a critical aspect of the feminist goal of self-determination. This relationship can be expressed in either positive or negative terms. For example, Davis studies women of various socio-economic backgrounds who either underwent or plan to undergo cosmetic surgery in order to improve themselves. For the women discussed, cosmetic surgery presents a solution to a "history of suffering because of their appearance". For these women, such as the "successful, middle-aged business woman seeking a face lift in order to 'fit into the corporate culture,'" cosmetic surgery serves as a gateway to freedom from the social restrictions imposed on the biologically determined body. Davis makes it clear that the general attitude around the decision to undergo cosmetic surgery was not "...because their bodies were not beautiful, but because they were not ordinary—'just like everyone else'". The problem is presented as a battle between interior (the mind) and the exterior (the body) where the success of the former depends on the latter. According to Davis, the women discussed chose cosmetic surgery because of their keen awareness of their "active and lived relationship with their bodies". This emphasis on the relationship with their bodies is indicative of a strong desire to resolve the disjunction between the body and the mind. For these women, the self is defined by the body's appearance. Since the success or ease of their minds depends on the physical normality of their body, it becomes clear that for many women the body is a critical component to the self. Therefore, cosmetic surgery allows women to take control of the societal roles and successes that comprise their identities by altering their bodies. For those who view control of the bodily image (the self and how it is perceived by society) as a crucial aspect of freedom, this taking control is freeing. Cosmetic surgery symbolizes overcoming pre-determined biology. Thus, there is a strong sense of gaining the power of self-determination through technology.

    Of course, the relationship between the mind and the body emerges in differing ways as Andrea Dworkin shows in Intercourse. Dworkin emphasizes the psychological value of bodily perception by examining the act of intercourse and the symbolism within the act. Dworkin says "a human being has a body that is inviolate; and when it is violated, it is abused". Intercourse violates the body, which changes a woman's selfhood "in a way that is irrevocable, unrecoverable". This violation is psychological and violates the natural state of the female body—the intact hymen. Dworkin stresses the body as the self—but that self is valued negatively—by the vagina or a "hole". Since the vagina is a "hole" there is a need to "occupy" that "hole"—which is the role that men play during intercourse. This "occupation" is a type of dominance that is entirely destructive to the female selfhood, according to Dworkin. Dominance is a form of power for Dworkin. Allowing another to have that power over the female body/self thus represents a loss of self-determination or freedom. Dworkin's solution to the loss of self-determination is to reject the social standards of intercourse in favor of a type of intercourse that does not dominate the female body. For Dworkin, replacing male-dominated intercourse with passive intercourse allows women the ability to regain control of the self. By reasserting the rights of the female body to remain inviolate, it becomes possible again for women to reclaim a sense of self-determination. Thus, for women such as Dworkin the mind is innately connected to the experience of the body. Based on Dworkin's argument, the mind cannot be free until the body is permitted to be free or autonomous during intercourse.

    Conversely, some thinkers argue that the mind is far more important than the body and push for greater disjunction between the two in order to achieve freedom. Proponents of this camp include Susan Orlan, as discussed in Davis' My Body is My Art as well as Henry David Thoreau in his essay "Resistance to Civil Government".

    Orlan is a performance artist who alters her body through cosmetic surgery to parody social standards of beauty. The performance aspect of Orlan's art includes choosing symbols of beauty norms such as the forehead of Da Vinci's Mona Lisa, the chin of Boticelli's Venus, and undergoing cosmetic surgery which adopts these features while recording the process. The recorded process is shown to audiences in an effort to shock people into asking questions about social standards of beauty. Orlan has undergone multiple surgeries for the purpose of her art—it is both painful and dangerous. During one of Orlan's lectures of a performance, one audience member stood up and stated: "You act as though it were not you, up there on the screen". The audience member had it right in a manner of speaking—Orlan does not view herself as the summation of her bodily parts. This plays a large part in how Orlan is capable of undergoing frequent painful and dangerous cosmetic surgeries for the purpose of promulgating a radical insight on social standards of beauty. According to Orlan, the self can no longer be defined by the body and will not be defined by the body because of modern technologies (cosmetic surgery). As quoted by Davis, Orlan believes that bodies "…will become increasingly insignificant—nothing more than a 'costume', a 'vehicle', something to be changed in our search 'to become who we are'." By drastically altering her body, Orlan seems to be donating her body to society to help society prepare for the inevitable insignificance of the body. In doing so, Orlan maintains her strict sense of identity as a messenger by separating her self—the mind from the body. Orlan's view contrasts that of Davis and Dworkin in that Orlan is a proponent of denying the body to transcend the mind. This transcendence of the body allows Orlan the freedom of self-determination since the body is the site of oppression via constraining social norms.

    Thoreau also asserts that the mind is the true vehicle for freedom through self-actualization in his essay "Resistance to Civil Government". Thoreau criticizes the government as being overreaching and criticizes those who allow the government to rule them rather than controlling their own government. This is not entirely dissimilar from Dworkin's protest against the occupation of the person. Thoreau questions why people refuse to pay attention to their conscience (mind) rather than serving the state "not mainly as men, but as machines, with their bodies". Thoreau's protest is not related to feminism per se, but it is about freedom in general. It becomes clear that Thoreau considers the physical body as a part of the state when he says "under a government which prisons unjustly, the true place for a just man is also a prison". Justice is freedom to Thoreau. In Thoreau's mind, the government owns the bodies of the governed but not the minds, which is why Thoreau feels free to protest. By protesting, Thoreau shows a disregard for the body in favor of the mind/conscience as the true representation of the self. For Thoreau, the mind is the self, and the self must be defended above the body in order for the body (or other bodies) to survive.

Bodies and Minds in Society—Conclusion

    Based on the observations of Davis, Orlan, Dworkin, and Thoreau it becomes clear that not only is there a competing relationship between the body and the mind, but also between the body, mind, and society. Each thinker discussed attempts to reconcile the body and/or the mind with its interactions within society. The women Davis observes choose to undergo cosmetic surgery to achieve freedom by conforming to societal norms. One example Davis gives is a "successful, middle-aged business woman seeking a face life in order to 'fit into the corporate culture'." Others are changing their bodies not because of quantitative beauty, but because it is abnormal in reference to society's standards of beauty. Economist Daniel Hamermesh from the University of Texas found that people considered unattractive earned up to 10 percent less than their averagely attractive counterparts. Reality television is littered with make-over shows such as "What Not to Wear" and "The Biggest Loser," that are supposed to help people get the guy/girl or get the promotion/job desired. Through this view, it is easy to understand how cosmetic surgery is an effective tool for achieving a certain level of freedom to function or excel within the "real world" as is dictated by social norms. Cosmetic surgery presents itself as a worm that can wiggle around genetic predisposition and beat the system while working within it.

    However, Orlan, Dworkin, and Thoreau all seem to agree that society is comprised of individuals that have the power to control society, yet the collective agrees to allow society control individuality, or the self. By extension, society's control over individuality impairs the ability to feel free. Orlan protests by casting off her own body and using it to mock the norms of beauty which gives rise to her assertion of freedom through individuality. Dworkin refuses to cast off the body and instead asserts that it is society that must accommodate the sovereignty of the female body. Accommodation gives rise to the freedom necessary for self-actualization. Thoreau voices a similar demand for accommodation by calling for individuals to reclaim power over the government (society) by asserting their conscience (individuality of the mind).

Each of these thinkers contains more than a grain of truth in their respective discourses. The complexities surrounding the individual in relation to the collective only become steadily magnified as a new voice or insight is added. Based on the discussions here it is clear that oppression is pervasive and all of humanity is complicit in that oppression through participation in the norms surrounding the body such as allowing and playing into the eroticization of the body via fashion magazines, cosmetic surgery, cosmetic beauty products, and make-over shows. If all of humanity is complicit in its own oppression, it appears that freedom is an unsustainable idea. In order for the collective to survive, individuals must sacrifice some liberties and cooperate with the norms that comprise the social contract. Still, Orlan, Dworkin, and Thoreau are correct in asserting that the individuals decide where cooperation and conformity is necessary. This premise suggests that the collective has yet to reach the equilibrium necessary in order for each individual to possess the optimum amount of freedom with the least possible interference with the freedom of others. It must be stressed that the seemingly oppositional ideas concerning the mind/body v. society conflict do not necessarily cancel each other out through negative values. Instead, oppositional philosophies unveil the contradictions that are in need of resolutions. By exposing the contradictions, contrary philosophical ideas provide the building blocks for current thinkers to arrange or build upon.

    
 

 

Works Cited

 

Bruck, Jan. "Research Confirms the Role of Beauty in Career Success." DW-World.DE Deutsche Welle . 4 16, 2010. http://www.dw-world.de/dw/article/0,,5469059,00.html (accessed 22 2010, 4).

Davis, Kathy. "My Body is My Art: Cosmetic Surgery as a Feminist Utopia ." In Feministy Theory and the Body: A Reader , by Janet Price and Margaret Shidrick, 454-465. Routledge -Taylor & Francis Group LLC-Books, 1999.

Dworkin, Andrea. "Occupation/Collaboration." In Intercourse, by Andrea Dworkin. New York : Basic Books, 1987.

Thoreau, Henry David. "Resistance to Civil Government." American Transcendatialism Web. 1999. http://www.vcu.edu/engweb/transcendentalism/authors/thoreau/civil/ (accessed March 2010).

 

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Forever a student of life: the end is the beginning

Have no fear comrades, this isn't my last post. I'm going to get those extra credit points. But I'll continue on more so because I've become addicted to blogging when I should be doing other things. That being said, let's get to the meat of things. Or the veg of things. For vegetarians. I'd hate to alienate anyone.

Candidly speaking, sometimes you're on the ball then life happens you fall off the ball. In the words of my friend Lilia, "then life happens again and the ball is on you". The ball has been on me for a while now, to be honest. And this isn't the first time the ball has been on me.

In the spirit of making things overly personal as usual, I've mentioned in previous posts that I left my last university in D.C. to attend to family matters. While I was thinking about the ramifications of leaving the life I'd established there (albeit I was already on the plane back to Texas), I remember thinking to myself, "Why is this okay for me? I love learning and I'm leaving it". The answer surprised me given how much I worship the pursuit of knowledge: I love wisdom more. Wisdom is not gained solely from "regurgitating" the information in books, as some colleagues have put it. Rather wisdom is gained largely from life experience. In the face of life and death (because nothing makes us think so strongly of life as our own mortality and the mortality of loved ones) memorizing the per capita income of Argentina or the year that Augustine was born or even the effect that the U.S. embargo against Cuba has on Cuba and neighboring countries becomes markedly unimportant. In that moment, I realized what is truly important: our relationship with God (if you believe in God) and our relationships with others. Learning was not on my list. Which surprised me.

Fast forward four years and I found myself in a similar boat, trying to choose between my institute of learning and making the most of relationships before their mortal end. My Aunt passed away last week, a friend of the family passed away over spring break, and my grandmother barely pulled through around Easter. But my pull here was stronger. Which led me to ask myself: "what changed?"

The answer is in philosophy. Religious beliefs aside, I've been looking for more. An answer to how to lead a good life. Through Plato, Aristotle, and the Presocratics (note I'm not such a fan of the atomists or the sophists), I feel that I've gained more tools to do so. The fact that PHI 3310 is ending is bittersweet; I'm excited to continue my journey up the philosophical mountain but I'm going to miss all the comrades that have challenged my thinking or presented new views of old topics or shocked me into wondering why I'm offended or reaffirmed that I believe what I believe for a valid reason.

I'm also going to miss the patience of Dr. Bowery, and the analytical eye of Mr. Carson while we collectively attempt to figure out what we believe in the face of others' prescriptions for leading a contemplative life. I'm a little relieved that perhaps the class will forget some of those ridiculous questions that I've asked or toes that I've stepped on. I'm exceedingly grateful that through our blog postings and delightful class discussions, we have all gotten to see some sort of essence of ourselves and of others. As strange as this sounds, my classmates and instructors have instilled in me a new found hope for the state of the world. Watching others grow while growing alongside them is an earth-shaking experience. I'm going to miss those "ah-Ha!" moments as the lightbulbs go off in our heads. Or those subtle little thought bombs or blatantly obvious contradictions are poured out in front of us. Most of all, I'm going to miss this class because for the most part, we struggled together up the philosophical mountain and have tried to apply that wisdom to our own lives.

There is no more valuable lesson than how to live well. Forever will I be a student of this lesson.

"An unapparent connection (harmonia)is stronger than an apparent one." --Heraclitus

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Thoughts on the Nature of Man

A while back, I was asked what I believed the nature of man to be. Despite the fact that I feel poorly equipped to answer so large a question and I'm still in the process of developing my ideas—I'll take a stab at it. In order to do so, I'm going to consider what some influential philosophers have said about the nature of man; the ones that struck a chord with me, at least.

Hobbes argues that man in the state of nature is nasty and brutish, purely driven by self-interest and constantly at a state of war with one another. Thus enter civil society: civil society exists to protect man's property and to protect man from one another. Perhaps man would be cruel to one another for the purpose of survival, but that assumes that resources are scarce. Locke argues that until resources become more limited, man will be less inclined to war with each other. Locke also agrees that man is bad, but he also believes in tabula rusa, or the concept that every man is born as a blank slate. For Locke, little is innate (except for predispositions, which I think is a contradiction but we'll put that aside) and everything must be learned. The concept of tabula rusa suggests that Locke believes man is not born bad, but made to be bad by society. Nature versus Nurture, anyone?

What of man's goals? Aristotle, Hume, and Plato all argue that the ultimate aim of humanity is to be happy or attain some measure of happiness. Kant says that happiness is some sort of fringe benefit of being moral, but it isn't exactly the highest aim in his view. Okay, so I'll accept that for now: man wants to be happy. That seems reasonable enough.

I suppose the next question should be whether or not the innate nature (if there is one) of man affects man's ability to receive happiness.

Phew. That's a big one. If man is innately bad and exists in a state of nature (i.e. war with one another), and this means the bad humanity spends all its time fighting for survival, then happiness is no longer the end goal of man, survival is. One could argue that man wants to survive in order to have a shot at happiness, but if one is in a state of nature where the only victories are war related, then man knows no conception of happiness. This idea appears to reinforce Locke's idea of tabula rusa in that man is not necessarily innately bad, but taught to be bad (at least for now, while we're talking about Hobbes' conception of state of nature). Unless survival is a form of happiness, it's possible that happiness is not the highest aim of mankind. If it's not true in every situation, then how is it true at all? But that assertion is dependent upon the assumption that truth is objective. Which may not be the case.

Moving on, if we consider man in civil societies (or societies, period) then perhaps happiness can be an end goal. Hmm. Problem: agrarian, hunter-gatherer, nomad, and pre-industrial (third world) societies—everyone works hard, and everyone works. The aim of the work is to provide for basic human needs. Oop, there's survival as the main motivator again. However, a professor and I were discussing third world countries. He said that in third world countries Heaven is more richly imagined than it is even thought of in developed countries. Heaven=happiness. So maybe survival is an effort to get to happiness after all—for those that believe in an afterlife.

In developed countries such as the U.S., work is spread out and distributed. We import our raw material, which means that the third-world does most of our strenuous labor. Less work+more product=lots of leisure time. This is similar for Hume, Locke, Aristotle, and Plato. They were all well off and aristocratic. They had the time to peruse what it means to be happy and ethical and the funds to sustain their lifestyles.

Interestingly enough, it appears that the general consensus (including Kant) agrees that happiness is bestowed upon the ethically moral people. So this is why man's innate nature is important. If you start out bad, you have to work pretty hard to become moral. If you start out good, you have to work pretty hard at not becoming bad. If you start out neutral, it's all about the luck of the draw and whom you are born to, where you are born and when you are born. Which do I pick? Neutral. To an extent. Apparently I'm a compatibilist.

I don't believe that man starts out bad. Science tells us that children begin their socialization process almost from the minute they are born. Even so, there are arguments that the food the carrying mother consumes affects the disposition of the child, or the music that the mother listens to affects the personality, and Native American tribes hold off on naming children until their personalities are clear so the name, the label, does not hamper the true spirit of the child. Native Americans call it true spirit—but Locke refers to tabula rusa in connection with the mind. This just got complicated. I'll acknowledge that man has both a spirit and a mind. The spirit must account for the emotions. The mind must account for reason. They affect one another.

Example: a psychologist back in the early 1900s hypothesized that a chimp could take on human habits. The chimp certainly did start walking upright, eating neatly, wearing clothing, all that good stuff. But the psychologist raised the chimp alongside his son. What he didn't count on (and what prompted the end of the experiment) was that his son began to take on some of the characteristics of the chimp.

Clearly both the son and the chimp were influenced by their environment and their socialization process. From the experiment, you can't really tell if it influenced the spirit of either the son or the chimp (if we assume that animals have a spirit of some sort). My point is, how you really separate nature from nurture? No one can clearly distinguish between the beginning and the end. Society doesn't even agree on when life officially begins. So how are we supposed to agree on the nature of life?

Kant on the other hand, argues that reason is the fundamental nature of man or dominant trait. He's similar to Aristotle in that manner. Kant bases his entire formulae for the universal moral law on the presupposition that all man has reason. Aristotle claims that it is reason that separates humanity from animals. Aristotle also believed that women, workers, and slaves could hardly be ethical because they don't possess the necessary faculties to do so (i.e. reason). I hold that Kant is wrong. There are members of humanity without the common rational abilities that Kant speaks of. This makes rationality less "fundamental" to human nature.

Plato, Hume and (and sort of Locke) weigh emotion in as a bit more heavy than reason. None discount the faculty of reason. Hume argues that behavior does not take place until people have emotionally invested in it. This I can agree with. Besides the disorders or diseases that cause people to have involuntary movements or exclamations (Tourette's Syndrome, Parkinsons, etc.). I also believe that this emotional investment in behavior is rooted in how people love as well as what people love. Ultimately, people are not just fighting for survival in every instance, but fighting for some sort of love. Love of life, love of family, love of person, love of country, love of freedom, love of knowledge or love of wisdom, etc. Love is a form of sentiment, but it's not the sentiment that defines humanity—love defines humanity. Perhaps this doesn't remove humanity from animals enough to satisfy some. But perhaps humanity's real difference from animals is our capacity to love in an infinite number of ways. Wishy-washy, perhaps. However, one can't base the fundamental nature of humanity in purely reason because it excludes those without the normative standard of reason (as we define it). Nor can we base the fundamental nature of humanity in purely sentiment or feeling because it excludes the capacity for creativity, for innovation, for pursuit of knowledge and wisdom.

I imagine individuals as scales. Whatever one lacks in reason, they make up for in love. Whatever one lacks in love, they make up for in reason. Mankind's ultimate goal appears to be happiness, but the secret of happiness that Aristotle tried to tell us about: you can't be happy if you're out of balance. That seems to sum up the nature of man—trying to find that balance.

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The Source, Leibniz, Hegel and Humanity

I finally finished watching the second and third Matrix movies this morning. As I watched the voices of the Ancients emerge, I found it a bit ironic that a modern voice seemed in control of the matrix itself.

Take the source, the old guy with the moustachetee (goatee and mustache connecting-what is the word for that?). Did anyone else see Leibniz? We have the source telling Neo that the world he's fighting to save is actually the sixth world. That he'd created a few others and they all experienced the same fate. Each time the source created a new world, he tried to change it but the nature of humans couldn't be changed. The unchanging nature of humanity reminds me of the monads which leads to determinism. For the source, everything happened as it must. The source merely tried to create the best possible world by tinkering with the surroundings of the humans.

The source also seems to resemble Hegel's conception of the Absolute Spirit in that the Absolute Reality is constantly trying to return to what is already known. For Hegel, history exists as a series of actions, reactions and counter-reactions but he calls it thesis, antithesis and synthesis. The synthesis or counter-reaction becomes the new thesis or action and the chain continues on. In mentioning the creation and destruction of Zion, the source seems to refer to this type of recurrence or the Absolute Spirit. In which the humans are always trying to rediscover what is not known, but felt about the world—thus the cycle of humanity resembles the Absolute Reality trying to return to the Absolute Spirit.

Jordan touched on the subject of the nature of humanity and essentially viewed it as a tendency to conform—which suggests that humanity does not change, as if that were a part of the nature of humanity. I'm inclined to side with Heraclitus in that the only thing that doesn't change is change itself. Humanity, in my view, changes as a series of actions, reactions and counter-reactions. In terms of a metaphysical view of the world, apparently I agree with Hegel.

Examples?

Take Voltaire's Candide, a systematic mocking of Leibniz' theory of this world being "the best of all possible worlds": Leibniz had an affiliation with Frederick William I, the father of Frederick the Great, King of Prussia. Leibniz reflected William I's more conservative view points and was thus put in charge of Frederick the Great's younger education. Frederick and William had a tumultuous relationship after which Frederick constantly rebelled against his father, including ideologically. Later, Voltaire and Frederick became friends and Voltaire was the classic suck-up when it came to the in-crowd of royalty that Frederick happened to live at the center of. Voltaire continuously sought out Frederick's approval, and their letters often contained elaborate pseudo-intellectual mocking of William I and all his counterparts, including Leibniz. Voltaire's writing of Candide may be largely related to his efforts to appease Frederich—thesis, antithesis, synthesis/thesis and so on. (Information comes from Evening in the Palace of Reason: Bach Meets Frederick the Great in the Age of Enlightenment by James R. Gaines)

My point with the example above is that people often look at the ideas alone but fail to consider the historical context of those ideas. Historical context is another point that Hegel emphasizes. He argues that philosophy is an expression of its time. In other words, philosophy reflects the ideas of the time that they are in, where they were developed, and who the ideas are exchanged with. When it comes to Voltaire, his book Candide may not actually reflect his own philosophy but may actually be a collection of brownnosing. Still, the criticisms themselves do not cease to be relevant. It is simply important to note the context so that whoever is interested may keep it in mind that new interpretations of ancient, medieval or modern philosophers will most likely not match what the corresponding author intended to say.

This disjunction between original meaning and new interpretations relates to Alan's discussion of how the writers of "The Matrix" trilogies probably did not think or intend to incorporate the ideas of tens of philosophers into the movie's plot. However, that does not make the connections any less relevant. One of the most comforting things about philosophy is that ideas inspire new ideas or a reexamination of old ideas. It's never stagnant until people decide it's irrelevant.

So don't make it irrelevant.

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Introspection: Part II

In "Introspection: Part I," the included post included some reflections/memories of how it was that I left Gallaudet University in D.C. (October 2006) in order to return to Texas and care for my family. The reflection is set in 2007 when my family (mother and four younger brothers) had to relocate to San Antonio in order to get my grandmother cared for. I did not transfer to Baylor until August 2008. Some might consider the post overtly personal and unrelated to philosophy, but I would disagree.

When it comes to religion, there is a system of punishments and rewards. Though there are many exceptions, the overall consensus among religious followers is that good followers get rewarded and the bad followers get punished. Aristotle appears to touch on this question when he writes"…is it completely wrong to track a person's fortunes like this? For they are not where living well or badly is located, but rather human life needs them in addition, as we have said, and it is activities in accordance with excellence that are responsible for our happiness, and the opposite sort of activities for the opposite state" (106).

As Aristotle says,"..it does not make a small difference whether people are habituated to behave in one way or in another way from childhood on, but a very great one; or rather, it makes all the difference in the world." It seems to me that every person has their own philosophical milestones in which idealism needs to be reconciled with reality. When those mountains slap you in the face, you encounter that disillusionment that seems to resemble Plato's description of the light first hitting the faces of the cave-dwellers.

While there were other milestones, my larger questions relate to the problem of suffering. The branch offs seem to concern whether or not the rules of morality change in the event of extreme pain and suffering. While discussing The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, that rule concerning morality in suffering deeply disconcerted me. Both Kant and Aristotle call it immoral to commit suicide. Kant calls it immoral because humanity is supposed to be an end unto itself—life is to be cherished over death (essentially). Aristotle is similar in his articulations against suicide when he says: "and the most fearsome things is death; for it is an end, and there seems to be nothing any longer for the dead person that is either good or bad" (133).

To bring this back down to earth a little bit, during the Civil War the courts were shut down in some areas of the union that were under martial law. In Ex parte Milligan, the court argued that because the military was attempted during a time and place when the civil courts were open, the civil courts have jurisdiction over citizens. They did stipulate that if the country existed under a state of anarchy, traditional rules (the civil courts) would no longer apply because the necessary system that they are built on are unavailable. So apply that to morality. If a person or group of people have their entire system of morality crushed under the trials of pain and suffering, how is it rational to assume that the same moral approximations would still be valid?

That, dear readers and non-readers, is my question.

 

Aristotle mentions approximation: "Actions have to do with particulars, and the requirement is that we should be in accord on these. So we should take these cases, from the chart. Thus with regard to feelings of fear and boldness, courage is the intermediate state" (118).

 

Where is the courage? How do we really ascribe courage when it is only necessary when the rules change?

 

How does the statement below really work?

"But one should not be courageous because of constraint; one should be courageous because it is fine to be so." (pp 135)

 

 

 

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Introspection part I:

Summer is over, but it is 6 o’clock and the sun is barely lowering its gaze on our little trailer in the country.  We’re celebrating.  Grandma has gone a week without complications at dialysis and picked enchiladas for dinner.  My grandmother periodically shouts little instructions from the living room into the kitchen because it’s my first time flying solo.  As the oil in the pan crackles and pops, I soften up the corn tortillas.  The radio interrupts the silence with vaguely familiar 70s disco music and transports me back to when we used to dance together.  As an eight year-old nothing compared to the rare chance to get decked out in Grandma’s art deco jewelry, boa feather scarves, silk robes and sequined high heels—except for when she joined me in my efforts to sort out the ‘dancing stuff’ to the likes of Elvis and The Beach Boys. 

But it was 70s disco music that I needed the most help dancing to and Grandma was happy to break it down for me.  While simultaneously demonstrating each of the movements, she would tell me:  “Stand with your feet apart!  Roll your shoulder,” but I didn’t see what that had to do with dancing.  Flustered, I rolled my right shoulder anyway.  She’d continue, “…now roll the other one” and I rolled my left shoulder, still not getting it.  “Good, now alternate,” and I’d roll my right shoulder then the left, then the right again and the left again.  “Shake your hips,” and I’d shake my hips discordantly from the music; I just wasn’t getting it—“How did this constitute dancing?” I wondered.   “Feel the music,” she told me, while giving me time to match my movements to the rhythm.    “Put it all together now,” she told me while shaking her hips and shimmying her shoulders looking like a disco queen.  I, on the other hand, probably resembled a frog caught in a blender.  But it didn’t matter.  When we it all put together, the parts made sense; I just hadn’t gotten a handle on them. 

Gloria Gaynor’s “I will survive” comes on the radio and now I’m back in the present.   In front of the stove I start shaking my hips, rolling my shoulders, and resembling a frog less than ever.  Seemingly reading my mind, Grandma makes her way from the couch then bursts into the kitchen in time to sing me the third line:  “…Kept thinkin’ I could never live/ without you by my side/ But then I spent so many nights/ thinkin’ how you did me wrong/and I grew strong/ and I learned how to carry on.”  She shoots me a meaningful glance and my eyes start welling up as my throat tightens.  The tempo changes, “But now you’re back/ From outer space,” and I move the pan of hot oil away from the burner; I know what’s coming next.  Grandma grabs my hand and yanks me to the center of the kitchen.  She shakes her hips and shimmies with her robe sash across her shoulders, and I get to dance with the disco queen again.   My mother joins us; together we belt out the chorus, “Oh no, not I/I will survive/as long as I know how to love/I know I’ll stay alive/I've got all my life to live/I've got all my love to give/and I'll survive/I will survive,” and dance as if Gloria herself is in the kitchen with us. 

At the end of the chorus, Grandma sits down to rest her legs.  I go back to listening to the oil crackle and pop while the corn tortillas bubble up slightly as they soften.  I’m so consumed by my thoughts that I barely notice my mother has added the beef and garlic to the caramelized onions.  “Lean on me” comes on the radio, and my mother knows my aching.  We hug.  She sings, “Sometimes in our lives/we all have pain/we all have sorrow/but, if we are wise, we know that there’s always tomorrow” then hugs me tightly until the chorus is almost over.  When she lets go, she wipes the tear off my cheek and we return to cooking. 

After we set the corn tortillas and meat aside to cool, I start boiling water in our largest saucepan.  Red sauce is the most temperamental part of making enchiladas.  With both determination and apprehension, I whisk together a little bit of flour and water and add the mixture to the boiling water, repeating the process until the sauce starts to thicken.  My brothers gravitate towards the aroma of the browned meat, garlic and caramelized onions--stealing bits of the goodness here and there.  When the sauce is near the right consistency, I start beating chili powder in with the water and flour mixture before pouring it into the saucepan.  The technique is repeated until the chili powder causes a deep terra-cotta color to bleed through the grayish liquid.  Grandma limps over to the stove to survey my progress.  “More chili,” she says.  “More salt,” she adds at the next taste test.  The end result is a medium-thick sauce with just enough salt to make the chili powder pop.  Grandma exclaims in approval, “Ay!  See?  I told you!”

Mom preheats the oven.  Immediately after I quarter another onion for the Spanish rice, the stench sets fire to my eyes.  My mom takes over the raw task of dicing the onions for me; she’s always been tougher like that.  I go outside to get some fresh air but my mind works against me and summons how we came to live in Comfort, Texas.  The name of the town seemed optimistic before, but now it seems bittersweet considering we’re in a double-wide trailer, without air conditioning or heat.  I remember the subject heading of the email:  “URGENT:  CALL HOME” and the phone call that I made to mom almost a year ago. 

“Sorry mom, it’s been crazy here.  What’s going on?  Is everything okay?” I asked her. 

“Grandma’s in the hospital.  Kidney failure.”  Sounds like crying.  “The doctors don’t expect her to make it through.”  More crying. 

“Clack-clack-clack,” sounds the keyboard as my fingers furiously pound the keys.  “Okay mom, I found a flight going from DC to San Antonio.  I’ll be there at 11 o’clock tomorrow morning.” 

The sun rises and I have already been in the air for an hour and a half.  For the first time, a sunrise looks mournful; seemingly crying with me as the yellows and oranges bleed through the blue horizon. 

            I shake off the memory and go back inside.  It doesn’t make sense yet.  Mom has fried the rice.  I take over; Spanish rice isn’t her strong suit.  After adding the water and tomato sauce, I wait till it hits a boil and then lower the heat to a simmer.  My grandma comes over to help me assemble the enchiladas.  We pop it in the oven.  In just a few minutes, our entire house is heavy with the potent essence of chili powder, garlic and onions melding with cheese.  Everybody’s mouth waters with anticipation.  We serve the enchiladas with shredded lettuce, diced tomatoes and a dollop of daisy (sour cream) on top with Spanish rice and refried beans on the side.  While sitting around and eating together, the whole makes sense.  

Leia Mais…

Wide Open

Once [Pythagoras] passed by as a puppy was being beaten, the story goes, and in pity said these words:

"Stop, don't beat him, since it is the soul of a man, a friend of mine, which I recognized when I heard it crying." (Curd 18)

During spring break I attended a funeral, and I attended another just this last week. I did not know the deceased at either of the funerals but attended to support those who lost a loved one. Still there was something surreal about the amount of emotions that people are capable of experiencing—particularly empathy.

Now maybe (or almost assuredly) Pythagoras was onto something when suggesting that we are all a part of one another. Isn't that just wide open? How does one reconcile the "take care of yourself first so you can take care of others later (hopefully)" mentality of college students when the larger goal, the larger point resides in the present?

The larger point that I refer to is connectedness. That connectedness resembles staring at something for so long that it blurs, goes out of focus.

People don't really know when anything truly begins or ends, but we're all co-owners of the "middle" of things. If the middle is the connector between the beginning and the end, and we're all in the middle of that beginning and end (if those are even distinct from one another), then we're all connected.

First he declares that the soul is immortal; then that it changes into other kinds of animals; in addition that thing that happen recur at certain intervals, and nothing is absolutely new; and that all things that come to be alive must be thought akin. (Curd 19)

So perhaps empathy is rooted in the basic understanding that one is alive in a body for the present, but that body will cease to be. To think of Pythagoras' principle in more accessible terms, Martin Niemöller's famous poem translated into English breaks down what is often forgotten—the connectedness and the responsibilities that come with it:

When the Nazis came for the communists,
I remained silent;
I was not a communist.

When they locked up the social democrats,
I remained silent;
I was not a social democrat.

When they came for the trade unionists,
I did not speak out;
I was not a trade unionist.

When they came for the Jews,
I remained silent;
I wasn't a Jew.

When they came for me,
there was no one left to speak out.

Or to be more specific, Pythagoras "beaten puppy" could be the communists, the social democrats, the trade unionists, the Jews, or any number of things that are a part of us. This appears to be the root of empathy—the ability to recognize oneself in other people, animals, and living things.

Leia Mais…

Crabs in the Cave: Part II of II

Back to the subject at hand: Deaf culture, the crab theory, and the allegory of the cave.

Brief recap: I began by exploring the implications of the crab theory in a larger social context then honed in on the deaf community as a more specific and familiar example. Now we can make our way into the cave.

Essentially, Plato's allegory of the cave is a metaphor about how education affects the human soul. Ideally, education is meant to teach one how to reach the ultimate goal of goodness. Here are the opening lines of Book VII: the allegory of the cave.

"Imagine human being living in an underground, cavelike dwelling, with an entrance a long way up, which is both open to the light and as wide as the cave itself. They've been there since childhood, fixed in the same place, with their necks and legs fettered, able to see only in front of them, because their bond prevent them from running their heads around. Light is provided by a fire burning far above and behind them. Also behind them, but on higher ground, there is a path stretching between them and the fire. Imagine that along this path a low wall has been built, like the screen in front of puppeteers above which they show their puppets" (Grube 514a-514b).

It seems to me that the "cave" (much like the bucket) is meant to be deafness—not the lack of sound but the experience of being deaf. Many (but not all) become a part of this world from childhood. Particularly literal is "...They've been there since childhood, fixed in the same place, with their necks and legs fettered, able to see only in front of them, because their bond prevent them from running their heads around."

As deaf people, we are told that there is only so much we can accomplish because of the lack of sound (which really stems from a difference in communication abilities—i.e. speaking/writing English). This experience of the cave is similar to the experience of the bucket—the cave represents a limited intellectual growth while the bucket signifies a lack of interaction beyond the shared experience of "deafness". Since not all people who can hear are outside of the cave, one might contend that there's a bucket in the cave—subject to the similar conditions of the cave. 'Crabs in a cave' is a fitting metaphor since Plato also espouses a concept of innate intelligence that requires time to develop but speech to express it. [Aristotle says of deafness and education, "Deaf people could not be educated without hearing, people could not learn." But then again, Aristotle had a lot of buckets for people who weren't Greek citizens.]

Side Note: Contrary to popular belief, ASL does not translate directly to English. ASL contains a linguistic system just as complex as Spanish or English. It should also be noted that ASL is not universal, different countries and regions have their own systems of sign language. Thus, when in class my mind (and any other deaf student using ASL interpreters) is juggling two different languages and attempting to reconcile the differences. Similar to Lily, I'm sure (except that I've been juggling the two for ten years now).

In the bucket, the experience is also of seeing only what is in front of them, and naming the passing shadows of what is real. I suppose the shadows in the bucket would be more ambiguous, undefined, and completely interwoven. The shadows within the bucket are comforting because they are familiar. It seems that while being unbound is the first step to enlightenment for the natural citizens of the cave, the crabs are already unbound but are instead confined to the bucket.

But if a crab were out of the bucket but still in the cave— what is seen seems grander, dominating, and more real—the reality of the world that moves but does not stop to explain why it moves. There are no other crabs to help name those shadows, and not knowing what to think of a thing is disconcerting. The shadows in the cave are now less ambiguous, more defined since there is now space for them to run their necessary sizes. This difference between the shadows in the bucket and the shadows in the cave would be perplexing because it is difficult to comprehend how reality is different from one experience (bucket) to another (cave).

If reality differs, then it is not static. If reality is not static then (to the best of my knowledge) this reality cannot be the root of experience. If this is not the root of experience, then it is not the ultimate reality but illusions layering over reality. The bucket becomes a layer, the cave, another layer, the fire another layer. Being dragged out of that cave sloughs off the layers of false knowledge but the problem is that few see the value in dragging a crab out of its cave.

What I refer to here is educating the crab—there are not enough philosopher-kings (teachers) committed to coming back down to the cave for the crabs. Instead several crabs must wait and continue naming the shadows in the cave or the shadows in the bucket, feeling uneasy, feeling controlled. Yet the citizens of the cave fault the crabs for not knowing any better than to be in the bucket.

Like Ella, the crab out of the bucket has to wonder: "who put the crabs in there?" and promptly return to its fellow crabs to let them know that a singular experience of the world does not define intelligence. Together the crabs have to work to establish a home outside of the cave.

 

Leia Mais…

This is what we call a “corny” post

A moment ago I was staring into my favorite oil painting that's on the wall. It's abstract, really it could be anything. To me it's peace. A swirl of blues, greens, and yellows. A blissful state that makes me think of air and water: the very things that make me free to live. To my luck this came on the radio (internet radio, mind you):

 

"Extra Ordinary Thing" by Aqualung (courtesy of azlyrics.com)

Cheer up it might never happen, oh, it might never happen; we, we'll see
As I sit here spitting and churning, oh, it's clear its happening right now to me

Make it special for a loved, for a stranger, peace is hard to hard to come by, extra ordinary thing

Why not believe in something, something's got to be better than nothing
Just because it's the end of the beginning doesn't mean it's the beginning of the end

Failing fractured broken busted all for nothing sing my heart out for a stranger
Extra ordinary thing song my heart out for a stranger extra ordinary thing

 

Now because of the History of Classical Philosophy, the pre Socratics are always sneaking into the forefront of my thoughts. Of course Thales deserves the honorable ninja sneak award for sneaking the fastest. Aristotle said of Thales' idea that the arche was water: "maybe he got this idea from seeing that the nourishment of all things is moist, and that the hot itself comes to be from this and lives on this (the principle of all things is that from which they come to be)-getting this idea from this consideration and also because the seeds of all things have a moist nature; and water is the principle of the nature of moist things" (Curd 2). Personally I love the story about Thales falling into a well while being engrossed in the study of astronomy. Maybe that Thracian serving-girl made fun of him for falling into the well because he failed to "notice what was in front of him and right next to his feet" (Curd 9). But once he fell into that well—it wouldn't be a stretch to say that he fell into the arche of things. Water is a treasure and a curse—we need it more than food, (just consult the Middle East, half the wars are about drawing the border lines to include the most water in their respective countries) but too much equates to a cruel loss of life (hurricane Katrina). Still you'll die fast from a lack of air. Even when submerged in water, it's not the water that kills you—it's the lack of air.

So what of air? When I think of Anaximenes I think of a creative cheeky youth trying very hard to be serious. Probably because he aims to please by trying to make the two opposing principles posited by his predecessors coalesce: Thales-water; Anaximander-the boundless. Still when reading Anaximenes' conception of air: air "comes to be and is without measure, infinite and always in motion" I can't help but feel freed and more understanding of why driving with the windows down, yawning, and controlling my breathing in Pilates class are immensely comforting to me.

Corny, yes. But it is what it is.

Leia Mais…

Crabs in a Cave? Part I of II

"Office" fans, please refrain from the "that's what she said" jokes. Just kidding.


 
In any case, this afternoon I had a minor epiphany. Are you ready for this? There's no more "that's what she said jokes"…but we'll manage.

Disclaimer: the views expressed on deafness and deaf culture are based largely on my own observations unless another source is cited via hyperlinks. Discussion of other minorities is also cited. Please note that these views are not necessarily nor intended to be representative of the whole of the deaf community, rather they are an expression of my own views.

Today it dawned on me to connect the deaf community (or insert your favorite minority here) to Plato's "allegory of the cave". However, the most common metaphor applied to the deaf community is the crabs in a barrel syndrome a.k.a. the crab theory.

Background: The Crab Theory

As explained by the Gallaudet University Library, "the analogy is to a bucket of live crabs: whenever one crab attempts to escape the bucket by climbing out of it, the others reach up and pull it back down. The result, of course, is that no crab succeeds in escaping the bucket." Now, I wonder: could the "barrel" be likened to Plato's "cave"?

First, the problem of the crab theory is that it suggests that minorities will prevent members of their communities from succeeding through education, jobs, or the accumulation of wealth and/or honors. Should a member of a minority group succeed above all the others, those who are left in the barrel will mock, criticize, and all but disown the members that make it out of the barrel.

As far as social theories go, the crab theory is particularly pessimistic and cynical. It must be noted that in the case of African Americans (click here to see one of the crab theory's first applications), the crabs in a barrel analogy has been severely criticized by Nathaniel Turner as an oversimplified idea that makes systematic oppression seem like a figment of the imagination. However, it is also true that despite the crab theory's criticisms it is still frequently applied—take the case of various bloggers applying the crab theory to the latest presidential election and Obama's term (click here for one example).

Still, socio-economic complexities, power dynamics, and legal issues surrounding the theory are often glazed over with the application of the crab theory. Oppression in the deaf community is multifaceted much like oppression of any other minority group. There are stratifications within the community based on education, wealth, deaf roots (deaf child of deaf parents (DOD) or hearing child of deaf parents (CODA)), deaf participation, romantic competition, whether or not one is "deaf enough", (evaluated by accomplishments, use of assistitative technology i.e. hearing aids, cochlear implants, which sign language system is used), or being "hearing-minded" which means to be the 'other'.

This oppression within the deaf community or the basis for the application of the crab theory is known as Audism. Essentially, members of the deaf community are faulted for oppressing one another in addition to the oppression seen in job hiring policies, loans, business, federal assistance, the ignorance about needs of deaf individuals and so on.

Comparative examples of oppression within a minority group might include judgments of appearance (judging based on how un-ethnic one looks) or a critique of wealth that's often discussed in pop media such as "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air" or "Introducing Dorothy Dandridge" or even in "Tortilla Soup". My point is that minorities are often accused of holding each other down. But again, this is overly simplistic.

While getting my ducks lined up prior to writing this blog, I came across a wonderful VLOG by Joey Baer that includes a video clip of Ella Mae Lentz's presentation at the summer 2006 National Association of the Deaf (NAD). Rather than take away from the quality of Ella's presentation I have taken the liberty of translating the video into English for those who are interested in watching the video while reading along. But I don't know how to truncate messages so I'm just going to put it all on here. (Click on Ella's name to see the video)


 

 

Transcribed ASL to English translation of Ella Mae Lentz's presentation at the NAD conference during the summer of 2006,

Understanding Deafhood: Our Language (part 2 of 4)

   

Is anyone here familiar with the crab theory? Can anyone give me a basic definition of what it means?

Pulling crabs down, right.

It's a story about the bottom of a pail filled with crabs and when the crabs try to climb their way out, other crabs will pull them back down with them.

I've heard that story many times over the years. The Crab Theory has been applied to the deaf community multiple times by arguing that deaf people pull successful deaf people back down by insulting, criticizing, and pointing the blame at each other.

Upon listening to this argument, I became deeply unsettled by the notion that the deaf community is responsible for preventing each other from succeeding.

But then I was inspired by a book I read [Understanding Deaf Culture: In Search of Deafhood by Dr. Paddy Ladd (2003)].

While reading it, I didn't know that I would come across that story again. Are you ready to hear it?

So, there's a pail with the crabs in it. But let me ask you, who put the crabs in that pail? Think about it, who put the crabs in the pail?

Someone had to. The crabs didn't get excited and decide to put themselves in that pail.

It's not normal for the crabs to be in a pail, someone/something had to put the crabs there. And while the crabs are crawling around the bottom of the pail, someone is looking down into the pail telling the crabs "it's your fault you're in the pail". But it's the person/people outside of the pail that are looking into the pail and the person/people who put the crabs in the pail that are really at fault. Not the crabs. [Emphasis added]

Now imagine that the crabs are dumped out of the pail and returned to their natural state of life in the water amongst each other. Do you think that the crabs will be in a hurry to take off and escape one another? I doubt it.

I imagine the crabs would stay near one another going to and from, pairing up with this crab or that crab to reproduce, go to and from while feeling free to stay together in happiness.

Well—that's the same as deaf people. It's the same thing, right? We are happy about see each other come and go, and then come back again.

You don't let people put you in a metal pail again. That's my point. Thank you.

 

The italicized section represents our jumping point for discussing the "crabs in a pail" in conjunction with Plato's Allegory of the Cave. If you're not bored to tears…stay tuned for further discussion of the philosophical implications.

 

 

 

 

Leia Mais…

In Response to Sterling

Sterling,

(apparently it's my turn to struggle with posting comments) 

First, I never think it's ignorant to wonder or to ask questions about what you wish to understand. 

That being said:  yes I do worry about the way that my comments are voiced to the class, but not only how they are spoken/translated, but also how they are conveyed.  What is most frustrating is that communication is an expression of individuality and I often grapple with the implications of having another communicate for me.  Luckily, the more time you work with an interpreter, the more naturally the translations come.  Admittedly, it takes a gift to "wear" someone elses' personality while translating something so conceptual.  I am fairly skilled at lip-reading so if there's a grave mistake, I usually catch it.  If it's minor, it's a pick-your-battles kind of thing. 

Based on my own observations, a person's whole persona affects the way they are perceived (i.e. tone of voice, body language, word choice, vocabulary, coherence, appearance,etc.) and I am narcissistic in that I wish to control (to some extent) how I am perceived.  So absolutely, yes.  Is this in line with what you thought the question suggested about yourself?

As for the blind, deaf, double amputee marathon runner--that's pretty extraordinary!  I tried to find the name, but to no avail.  While I appreciate the quote on a transcendent level in that while one's bodily circumstances aren't always controllable, the mind is.  But--at some point people as a whole have realize that until the reality of the situation (such as the limitations surrounding a disability) is acknowledged, there can be no overcoming it.  It reminds me of the "there is no spoon" scene in The Matrix. 

As for personal communication--I think every one has their own stash of awkward conversations.  "Could you repeat that, I'm deaf" elicits a range of responses from screaming at me to nervous giggles to over-enunciating and speaking far to slow for me to figure out where the syllables combine.  However, the struggle to communicate is usually good-natured unless I get shut out completely.  Most experiences leave me with a great deal to laugh at/with/in. 

As for being geared towards the homogeneous, the attempts to "normalize" everything and everyone are very disturbing to me.  For example, on a global level:  the effort to establish a democratic government in Iraq--the lack of cultural respect (Islamic beliefs call for a religion-infused governing system) and the assumption that democracy is a one-size-fits-all political system (Which we also see fail in South Africa) makes me think that maybe it's time to stop putting our hands in everyone's cookie jar.   

In terms of people:  society wants to "fix" everyone and hide what they can't fix.  Hearing aids are becoming almost microscopically small in hopes that others will never notice that something's different.  ADD/ADHD children are medicated and still marked by teachers as the "bad" ones rather than implementing a system of education that allows for multi-disciplinary/Montessori schooling which engages the students rather than alienating them is another example of "fixing" (meds) then "hiding" (alienating).  I suppose that also references the opposing forces that I mentioned.  In reference to my own experience, opposing forces would include the debate about whether or not hearing aids are a conformist symbol or if entirely embracing my hearing loss is equated with being a novelty item.  Does that make sense?  It almost seems like a rant than a discourse.  I'll take my chances. 

As for classes--Baylor offers sign language classes through the Communication Sciences and Disorders department (I take issue with that title, ASL is considered a foreign language everywhere else).  Besides that, if you're thinking a summer school option, I'm not sure about Baylor but I think MCC offers summer ASL classes.  A structured classroom is a great place to start, but the experience is best supplemented through interaction in the deaf community-which isn't difficult.  It's engaging, fun, and the linguistic system is fascinating. 

I did not learn ASL until I was an adult (17/18) but I went on to study at Gallaudet University for 2.5 years.  My ASL greatly improved because it had to and it was crucial in the social and academic sphere.  I began with SEE (Signing Exact English) which is pretty much the bastard child of ASL.  Now I'm still learning, but it's important to know that ASL is a living language--constantly evolving and improving.  It's a language that definitely requires persistence. 

I *think* I covered all the bases!  Apologies for the long wait, I hadn't realized there were any comments here.  Thank you for all the challenging questions!

Britt

Leia Mais…

Diving into Parmenides: What we have to learn from a constant state of being

“…For the same thing is for thinking and being.”  --Parmenides

           

            As Parmenides shows us, the problem of mind-body dualism is by no means a new one.  Parmenides often rejects sensory experience in favor of the reasoned mind as we can see when he tells us: 

“for in no way may this prevail, that things that are not, are.  But you, bar your thought from this way of inquiry, and do not let habit born from much experience compel you along this way to direct your sightless eyes and sounding ear and tongue, but judge by reason the heavily contested testing spoken by me.”

The body is clearly rejected in favor of the mind.  This rejection of the sensory experience in favor of the thought processes helps to better grasp what Parmenides means when he says:

            “That which is there to be spoken and thought of must be. 

            For it is possible for it to be,

            But not possible for nothing to be.” 

Parmenides’ view is geared towards the assumption that there are no negative values.  For example, one might say that there is no such thing as a one-horned, one-eyed, flying purple people eater—yet the mind’s faculties of imagination immediately conjure up an image for its thinker.  On some level, this existed. 

Still, one wonders how this picture came to be.  Is it really imagination?  Or has it all existed before in such a way that only the mind can still conceive (imagine) it despite the lack of its truth in the body (eye, sensory experience)?  Parmenides seems to ask us, push us---to question the mechanisms of what we perceive as reality.  In short:  What IS metaphysics? 

Parmenides would tell us:  “thinking.” 

While examining the pervasiveness of thinking, it will be helpful to turn to a phenomenological accounting of the “loss” of the body and dependence upon the mind.  In 1995, Jean-Dominque Bauby, the French editor of Elle experienced a massive stroke which completely paralyzed him, except for his left eye.  Subsequently, Bauby shared his story through the blinking of his eye (morse code) and wrote a compelling memoir entitled The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. 

Parmenides’ poem entitled On Nature could probably be summarized through Bauby’s words:  “My diving bell becomes less oppressive, and my mind takes flight like a butterfly” (5).  While Parmenides’ appears to be speaking of transcending the body completely through death when he speaks of the veiled daughters of the sun bringing him to the “the gates of the ways or Night and Day […] and Avenging Justice keeps the keys that open them” (lines 5-15).  Parmenides’ goddess also offers to educate him in the true beliefs which mortals cannot hold (line 25-34).  The poem outlines the limits of knowledge and experience and essentially continues the denial of any truth within the sensory experience. 

Bauby does not deny sensory experience but is, in many ways, denied of sensory experience.  Parmenides’ Goddess appears to offer perfect knowledge that is beyond the grasp of mortals—i.e. that true knowledge is related to thinking rather than being a body.  In a manner of speaking, Bauby’s body is “dead”.  However, his mind’s connection to the body is not.  On the subject of bath time, Bauby comments on his new experience of the body through the mind:    

“One day, for example, I can find it amusing [bath time], in my forty-fifth year, to be cleaned up and turned over, to have my bottom wiped and swaddled like a newborn’s.  I even derive a guilty pleasure from this total lapse into infancy.  But the next day, the same procedure seems to be unbearably sad, and a tear rolls down through the lather a nurse’s aide spreads over my cheeks.  And my weekly bath plunges me simultaneously into distress and happiness.  The delectable moment when I sink into the tub is quickly followed by nostalgia for the protracted immersions that were the joy of my previous life.  Armed with a cup of tea or a Scotch, a good book or a pile of newspapers, I would soak for hours, maneuvering the taps with my toes.  Rarely do I feel my condition so cruelly as when I am recalling such pleasures” (17).   

It is through memory that Bauby is struck by the physical pleasures (bath time, tea, Scotch).  All of a sudden, Bauby’s knowledge of the world, of his body, is strictly limited to the former experience—memory.  Through his memory, the experiences live on.  Granted this is a painfully optimistic interpretation of a bleak situation, but Bauby also show us the freedom he gains through the faculties of the mind in the process of recalling memories. 

Through the various efforts of collecting memories, Bauby seems to write himself into those memories in the sense that re-writing his memories marks his task for the day.  This is particularly sardonic because he frees himself from his body by changing his past conception of how he behaved in that body.  The implications are enormous. 

Recall, for instance, that Parmenides tells us “for the same thing is for thinking as it is for being”.  In the chapter entitled “The Mythmaker”, Bauby speaks of a particularly imaginative friend who created movies of his own.  While delving into the various stories invented by Bauby’s friend Oliver, Bauby tells us of his feelings towards his friend:

               

“I should not feel morally superior to Olivier, for today I envy him his mastery of the storyteller’s art.  I am not sure I will ever acquire such a gift, although I, too, am beginning to forge glorious substitute destinies for myself.  I am occasionally a Formula One driver, and you’ve certainly seen me burning up the track at Monza or Silverstone.  That mysterious white race without a brand name, a number, or commercial advertisements is me.  Stretched out on my bed—I mean, in my cockpit—I hurl myself into the corners, my head, weighed down by my helmet, wrenched painfully sideways by gravitational pull” (117).   

Through the superior faculties of the mind, Bauby continues to exist, to think, to create.  Fictional or not, this is closer to the Truth for Bauby than the truth of the body.  Even though Bauby was never truly a Formula One Racer, Bauby’s alter reality existed through the faculties of the mind.  It exists because he thought it.  It may not exist out in the material world, but it does exist in the realm of the mind.

Like Parmenides’ longing, Bauby also longs.  The final lines in his book ask us:

“Does the cosmos contain keys for opening up my diving bell?  A subway line with no terminus?  A currency strong enough to buy my freedom back?  We must keep looking.  I’ll be off now.” 

Bauby’s final questions wound up being quite similar to Parmenides—knowledge is freedom, but mortal knowledge is limited. 

           

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Belated Self-Intro

Hello Ancient Philosophy People,

 

Please accept my apologies for my delayed joining of the marketplace. Don't worry-- I'll be all caught up shortly.

It may have come to your attention that I travel with an entourage. It only makes sense to introduce them to you as well since they're a part of your lives as well J

~Shirley (curly hair, tiny feet):

Shirley taught at the University of Texas for several years in the American Sign Language department and holds a Master's in Linguistics. Shirley is also my main interpreter and the coordinator of all the schedules. Shirley doubles as a close friend J

~Debbie (blonde bob, tiny height, tiny feet):

    Debbie is a Professor here at Baylor in the Communication Disorders department (I take issue with that name..) She teaches ASL and Interpreting classes.

~Lori (blonde bob, big smile, taller height):

    Lori is also a Professor here at Baylor teaching ASL and Interpreting classes. Occasionally (when things are light) Lori keeps me awake by adding her own little sidelines to the class discussions (unbeknownst to the public—unless I giggle. I'm a loud giggler).

~Rob (the only man, tall, glasses):

    Rob teaches ASL at MCC. We go to the same church—Columbus Ave. Thankfully, Rob also interprets the church services for the deaf people in attendance. You'll probably only see him as a sub. (like on Thursday)

~Camille (straight blonde, tiny-ish height, very blue eyes):

    Camille is very sweet. Hence her name sign which translates roughly as "sweet Camille". Camille is new to interpreting for Baylor. She joined us late last fall after her return from work in Taiwan for several years (I think 7, but I can't be sure). Right now she's abroad again. She's in high demand as she knows multiple sign languages. In any case, she will be back here shortly.

As for myself,

    Honestly I think my interest in philosophy started as soon as I was diagnosed (Janeane Garofalo makes some funny comments about being diagnosed). I was born with a severe-profound hearing loss but went undiagnosed until 4 ½ years of age. My vision of the world as peaceful, flowing, and complete was disrupted by the diagnosis that resulted in being fitted with hearing aids. Once the aides were put in, I felt suffocated. My ears couldn't breathe. On the drive home the highways in L.A. felt terrifying, I became aware of chaos through the cacophony of traffic sounds—the cars whizzing by sounded aggressive and painful; I immediately longed for the return back to silence. Silence is safe, it is comforting. Silence is like the night for others, but like the day for me. Hearing aids plunged me into the unfamiliar, they broke my norm. Sounds were as unidentifiable and infinite as a Jackson Pollack painting. I tried to flush that alternate reality down the toilet (yes, literally). It floated back to me.

     Luckily, observations arose with the buoyant hearing aids. Once a change happens, it is impossible to un-change. It was impossible to "undo" the sensations of hearing even if the tool was destroyed. As Heraclitus says, "you cannot step into the same river twice". Change is necessary and constant. Does that mean I believe hearing aids are necessary? Not so much. The basis is the change of experience rather than the tool itself.

    Experience is something that I've acquired a variety of. My mother is a free spirit, always itching for new places and faces. We were practically gypsies. Being on the outside of things (school, socializing, community, auditory media, etc) alters your perception. It becomes clear that people and places have as many things in common as they do things unique to them. Still there are numerous opposing forces present. Society seems geared towards the homogenous.

    From all of this questions arise: if the senses are not reliable, how can you know a thing? If change is necessary, is change organized or planned? Are we required to experience changes? Can we decide those changes? Can people actually change?

    Well this has gone on long enough.

 

Cheers!

    

 

 

 

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