The Sokal Hoax, Friedrich Nietzsche, Attacks on Deconstruction, and More Bad Writing

NYU physics professor Alan Sokal wrote a paper entitled “Transgressing the Boundaries: Towards a Transformative Hermeneutics of Quantum Gravity” which was published in 1996 in Duke University’s Social Text, a cultural studies journal. The same day the article was published–with no peer review, incidentally–Sokal announced in Lingua Franca that the whole thing was a hoax, a collection of nonsense, buzzwords, and jargon, making liberal use of recontextualized quotes. Sokal’s intention was to provoke the postmodern tendencies of humanities professors, whom he viewed as having a poor understanding of the science they critiqued.

Now, anyone who has spent any time in any university’s cultural studies department or English department (they tend to be the same thing nowadays) knows that postmodernism is all the rage: the dominant thinkers tend to be of the deconstructionist/post-structuralist school of thought–Derrida, Kristeva, Deleuze, Foucault, Butler, and so on. The major goal of deconstructive analysis is to disrupt the traditional, metaphysical groundings that have been accepted as “natural” to philosophy–to free up marginalized and subjugated areas of thought and break through the layers of sedimentary “givens.” In this sense, deconstruction takes a major queue from the philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche. In many ways Nietzsche provided not only some of the major questions that initiate a deconstructive philosophy, but also a model for how those ideas would be presented in writing.

Nietzsche’s writing is poetic and often ironically self-reflexive. In his essay “On Truth and Lie in an Extra-Moral Sense,” he makes the claim that all language is an anthropomorphic jumble of metaphors, that concepts are only constructed upon other concepts, all understood through an anthropocentric viewpoint that is impossible to abandon. Nietzsche’s writing contains this awareness; he frames his argument in a series of illustrative metaphors and similes, arguing that language does not permit people to reach the true essence of “the thing in itself”; rather, concepts are the “fractured echo[es]” of the ego seeking recognition—deceptions and illusions. In Nietzsche’s view, science can only build on these empty metaphors and therefore all scientific, empirical knowledge is a house of cards waiting to collapse. Nietzsche prefers an irrational, intuitive, liquid approach to life—a “playing with seriousness”: by abandoning stoic, static reasoning, one will gain “illumination, cheer, and redemption.” This joyful disruption is one starting point for the deconstructionists who Sokal attacked in his hoax.

Sokal obviously disagrees with Nietzsche: as a physicist, Sokal clearly values empirical, rational thought. But his real disagreement is with his perception of an abusive misuse of scientific and mathematic terminology by humanities professors. Sokal views the majority of post-modern theorists as perpetrators of hogwash, arrogant elitists who obfuscate their hollow ideas in jargon.

Okay. Now. So. Is Sokal right? Is there a tendency in humanities departments toward obscurantism with elitist undertones? Absolutely. However, I see this as the academic byproduct of the writers under attack, the detritus of myriad misunderstandings and misreadings. Nobody’s perfect, obviously. I disagree that certain of the writers Sokal attacks–Julia Kristeva in particular (a hero of mine, whose writing I find to be both wonderfully lucid and poetically profound)–are purposefully difficult. Most of the deconstructionists mentioned above take their lead from Nietzsche, and thus employ a strange, elliptical, roundabout and often poetic strategy to their writing. The deconstructionist methodology itself is an affront to easy readings–simply put, it’s meant to make you think. Furthermore, philosophy, for most of us, is not beach reading.

Interestingly, and perhaps ironically, Sokal’s gesture is an essentially postmodern move, a deconstructive move–a challenge to the new establishment of academic humanities and cultural studies. Even his use of recontextualized quotes is an affirmation of Derrida’s concept of iterability. The greatest value of the hoax is that it reinforces the tenets of deconstruction: to upset the places we feel are comfortable and safe, prompting constant re-examination of our aims and goals. Sokal’s hoax initiates a dynamic rethinking of the way we write and the way we read. Who are we writing for? How are we presenting our ideas? Do we understand what we are saying? More than anything, Sokal’s hoax calls attention to the constant need for peer review, for academia to question itself, its products, its institutions.

Robocop-like Strategies of Carceral Negotiation, Racially Heteroglossic Wilds, and More Bad Writing

Even though Denis Dutton discontinued his annual Bad Writing award (published in Philosophy and Literature) way back in 1999, it’s still fun to take a look at some of the worst sentences in academia from years past. Notable winners (?!) include Judith Butler and Frederic Jameson, but my favorite sample comes courtesy Professor Rob Wilson:

“If such a sublime cyborg would insinuate the future as post-Fordist subject, his palpably masochistic locations as ecstatic agent of the sublime superstate need to be decoded as the “now-all-but-unreadable DNA” of a fast deindustrializing Detroit, just as his Robocop-like strategy of carceral negotiation and street control remains the tirelessly American one of inflicting regeneration through violence upon the racially heteroglossic wilds and others of the inner city.”

With sentences like this, it’s no wonder that many people consider academics to be obscurantists, sophists who rely on the trickery of word play to cover up vacuous thoughts (in a candid moment, I might fess up to occasionally dabbling in such writing. OK. I admit it. I confess. Mea culpa. I’m guilty of thousands and thousands of bad sentences. So there.)

Tomorrow, we’ll take a look at how hoaxes perpetrated by Alan Sokal and others have challenged the often-pseudoscientific field of post-modern cultural studies.

Infinite Infanticide (Aldous Huxley’s Ape and Essence)

A few weeks ago, I saw (and loved) Children of Men, and it reminded me of one of my favorite books of all time, Ape and Essence by Alduous Huxley.

Ape and Essence

If you’ve only read one book by Huxley, chances are it was Brave New World, an incredibly prescient novel that really “got it right” so to speak–especially when compared to George Orwell’s vision of a dystopian future, 1984. In 1984, Orwell assumes that a totalitarian regime will hide and distort information from a suppressed public, that a Big Brother will watch our every move. Huxley’s BNW posits a future where the public could care less about information at all, a public that willingly cedes an antiquated ideal of “privacy.” In 1984, books are banned; in BNW no one wants to read (and who would want to read when a trip to the feelies provides a total synesthetic experience?)
But where was I…

So. Yes. Hmmm. Ape and Essence. This is a fantastic book, thoroughly entertaining–blackly sardonic, acidic and biting, yet funny and moving, full of pathos and dread and the possibility of loss, extinction, the end of beauty. I have forced this book on just about everyone I know, to the point that it is now Duck-taped together. Ape and Essence is a frame tale of sorts: it begins (significantly, on the day of Gandhi’s assassination) with two Hollywood types discovering the screenplay for an unmade movie called Ape and Essence. Intrigued by the strange story, the two head out to the desert to meet the writer, only to find that he’s recently died. The surreal and imagistic screenplay is then presented uncut as the remainder of the book. Ape and Essence presents an illiterate, post-apocalyptic world where grave-robbing is the primary profession. The hero of the story is one Dr. Poole, a scientist from New Zealand (New Zealand was isolated enough to resist nuclear holocaust) who arrives with a team of scientists to the West Coast of America. Poole is quickly separated from the other scientists and forced into slave labor, excavating graves. He finds a world where people worship the satanic god Belial, who they believe, in his anger, is responsible for the high numbers of genetically deformed children. These children are ritualistically slaughtered in purification rites that frame the social discourse of this New America. Additionally, procreation is proscribed to a two week ritual-orgy; other than this fortnight of lust and blood, sex and love are completely forbidden. The rest of the book details Poole’s infatuation with a woman named Loola, and their plan to escape to a rumored colony of “hots,” outsiders who don’t accept Belial and orgies and book burning and so on.

 

bosch-trittico-carro-fieno-3-inferno-2-bassa_jpg.jpg

Like Children of Men, Ape and Essence presents infanticide as the ultimate negation of progress. In both stories, people are both root and agent of their own destruction. But playing against this self-destructive death drive is the drive for life, for beauty, for sex. Neither story is willing–or able, perhaps–to make a definitive statement on which drive will prevail. Both stories resist “happy endings,” or can only be said to have “happy” endings in the simplest of senses. Ultimately, the endings are inconclusive, unsure, tentative at best. Will the human race die out? Are simple gestures of human fellowship, of poetry, of love, are these enough to conquer the infinite infanticide recapitulated within the narrative framework? We leave the theater feeling some hope, we close the book praying (to who?) that the characters will make it to a (never) Promised Land, but somewhere in the margins of our consciousness lurks the possibility of extinction–the predicate of loss that drives any story worth telling.

Nursing Gorilla

 

Digital Elegy

I just loved yesterday’s post from the Urban Core: a great collection of photos of the old Main St. Library. Not sure if Tony took these himself. Good stuff.

Ontology is (not) Overrated

A few weeks ago, one gentle reader was kind enough to respond to a post of mine. I reproduce in full said response:

 “Speaking of things ontological: this, from Clay Shirky’s monumental “Ontology is Overrated.”

http://www.shirky.com/writings/ontology_overrated.html

“It comes down ultimately to a question of philosophy. Does the world make sense or do we make sense of the world? If you believe the world makes sense, then anyone who tries to make sense of the world differently than you is presenting you with a situation that needs to be reconciled formally, because if you get it wrong, you’re getting it wrong about the real world.

If, on the other hand, you believe that we make sense of the world, if we are, from a bunch of different points of view, applying some kind of sense to the world, then you don’t privilege one top level of sense-making over the other. What you do instead is you try to find ways that the individual sense-making can roll up to something which is of value in aggregate, but you do it without an ontological goal. You do it without a goal of explicitly getting to or even closely matching some theoretically perfect view of the world.””

Okay. I finally read the essay. Very cool stuff. From Shirky, again:

“It is a rich irony that the word “ontology”, which has to do with making clear and explicit statements about entities in a particular domain, has so many conflicting definitions. I’ll offer two general ones.

The main thread of ontology in the philosophical sense is the study of entities and their relations. The question ontology asks is: What kinds of things exist or can exist in the world, and what manner of relations can those things have to each other? Ontology is less concerned with what is than with what is possible.

The knowledge management and AI communities have a related definition — they’ve taken the word “ontology” and applied it more directly to their problem. The sense of ontology there is something like “an explicit specification of a conceptualization.”

The common thread between the two definitions is essence, “Is-ness.” In a particular domain, what kinds of things can we say exist in that domain, and how can we say those things relate to each other?”

Shirky then discusses the ways that the second definition of “ontology”–the one used by the “knowledge management”–bumps up against the first definition of ontology (the one that is “less concerned with what is than with what is possible”). I don’t really think Shirky is anti-ontology, I just think he sees a problematized, ironic “ontology.” In a sense, Shirky uses a deconstructionist approach, destabilizing the hierarchies enforced by the second definition of ontology (notably, the term “metaphysical” is absent from Shirky’s defs of “ontology,” another move we could link to a deconstructionist mindset which strikes at the foundations of Platonic ideals). Shirky again:

“But this is the ontological dilemma. Consider the following statements:

A: "This is a book about Dresden."
B: "This is a book about Dresden, 
 and it goes in the category 'East Germany'."

That second sentence seems so obvious, but East Germany actually turned out to be an unstable category. Cities are real. They are real, physical facts. Countries are social fictions. It is much easier for a country to disappear than for a city to disappear, so when you’re saying that the small thing is contained by the large thing, you’re actually mixing radically different kinds of entities. We pretend that ‘country’ refers to a physical area the same way ‘city’ does, but it’s not true, as we know from places like the former Yugoslavia.”

Throughout “Ontology is Overrated,” Shirky is specifically working out ontological quandaries as they relate to the ever-expanding world of internet technology, but he’s also concious of the underpinnings of the first definition of ontology–of the possibilities of “isness” and being and the relational (infinite multiplicity) of meanings this entails (Shirky’s discussion of Yahoo and Google sheds light on this somewhat abstract problematic. Shirky privileges Google as the company who, rather than reinforcing (false) hierarchies in their ontological method, take a more deconstructive approach–meanings are relational, and exist in a fluid, transformative space).

I think that Shirky’s essay works in the same spirit that I would like to believe I’m working in: a playful, disruptive mode that pokes, prods, and jabs at the foundational traditions of hierarchies that (we allow to) resist examination, traditions that are explained away as simply being “natural.”

Finally, Shirky proposes this approach to knowledge:
“[Y]ou try to find ways that the individual sense-making can roll up to something which is of value in aggregate, but you do it without an ontological goal. You do it without a goal of explicitly getting to or even closely matching some theoretically perfect view of the world.”

There is a paradox here, one which I’m sure Shirky is aware of, yet nonetheless it’s a problematic one: Shirky wants to do away with “ontology,” or “ontological goals,” yet he wants “individual sense-making” (and value-based sense-making at that) to somehow remain. If Shirky’s problem is with the word “ontology” (a word he qualifies as “ironic”), that’s a separate issue: however, following from Shirky’s own first-definition of “ontology”–a definition that I think gets to the spirit of ontology, the spirit of possibility–ontology is simply a tool, a way of seeing, an approach, a method. Calling ontology “overrated” seems like a cynical solution; one doesn’t have to hold a metaphysical (Platonic) viewpoint which privileges “perfect” ideals and truths in order to practice ontology. Rather, ontological questioning–questioning “isness” and the possiblities of “isness,” how that “isness” finds meaning in language and representation (or how language and representation create that “isness”)–is the root of philosophical inquiry.

Word of the Week

bird-man, birdman

From the OED:

1. A man concerned with birds; an ornithologist.

1697 Lond. Gaz. No. 3269/4 At Black Joe’s, the German Bird-man..canary-birds. 1729 M. BROWNE Pisc. Eclog. VIII. (1773) 119 The Fisher on the green-sea-deep, And Birdsman in the osier copse. 1796 MORSE Amer. Geog. II. 17 The birdmen or climbers..bringing away the birds and their eggs. 1844 C. WATERTON Ess. Nat. Hist. (ed. 3) p. lxviii, These birdmen outwardly had the appearance of Italian banditti, but it was all outside and nothing more. 1969 Observer 16 Feb. 7/5 The Smithsonian staff itself is..envious of the birdmen for getting so much money. Those involved in the ornithological expedition have had to receive military clearance.

    2. An aviator, airman. colloq.

1909 Daily Chron. 27 Oct. 4/4, I shall say: ‘I saw the first bird-men in England, my dears.’ 1917 ‘CONTACT’ Airman’s Outings 244 Even intrepid birdmen (war correspondentese for flying officers) tire of trying to be offensive on a patrol. 1957 J. BRAINE Room at Top iv. 44 You were both intrepid birdmen, weren’t you?”

Famous bird-men include:

Audubon

The Birdman of Alcatraz

Tony Hawk

Howard Hughes

Icarus and Daedalus

Amelia Eirehart

Hawkman

Harvey Birdman

Joe Sacco

 Joe Sacco’s comic book journalism captures the human elements in disaster, bringing the world’s worst phenomena–war, political oppression, genocide–into a perspective that the average American can understand. Although I was certainly old enough to follow media coverage of the Bosnian War in the nineties, I didn’t really have any clue as to what the whole thing was about until I read Sacco’s alarmingly real Safe Area Goražde, a masterpiece of graphic journalism that puts a human face on planned extinction. Ditto for Palestine, a work detailing Sacco’s years in the Gaza Strip, exploring the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Palestine distills an ancient and ungraspable conflict into a series of frames, images, faces, and words that becomes somehow easier to confront. Palestine certainly can’t explain the incursions and the stone-throwing and the land grabs and the refugee camps and the food shortages and the torture and the kidnapping–it doesn’t even try–but it does make these abstractions thoroughly concrete. 

Sacco is by no means an impartial, objective observer–he eats and lives with the people he’s writing about, and appears in all his stories as a character. Some of the most poignant moments in Sacco’s work concern simple pleasures–like watching bad action movies on pirated VHS or sharing fresh coffee with a new friend–set against a backdrop of disaster. Like Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis, Sacco’s comics work as an education in both politics and the humanities. Highly recommended.

Check out Sacco’s recent comics on Iraq, downloadable as pdfs–Trauma on Loan and Complacency Kills.

Also available online in-full, The Underground War in Gaza, originally published by The New York Times Magazine in 2003.

Don’t Ban Books

I rarely write about “local” events (although “local” blogs are my favorite), but circumstances provoke me tonight. According to Jacksonville’s own Citadel of Truth, First Coast News, Eddie de Oliveira’s novel Lucky is under review by Duval County Public Schools (my Esteemed Employer, I add in the interest of full disclosure). A parent has complained that the book contains “questionable” material and should be banned from the school library. Aparently even in the late oughties the theme of a sexually-confused teenager is “questionable.” According to the (short) report, the parent was particularly offended by “gay themes” and the words “swinger’s party.” The story was barely a blip in the background as the wife and I prepared fresh pesto, so I didn’t catch what particular school said parent’s spawn attends [ed. note–I found out Tuesday morning that the school is none other than LaVilla School of the Arts (emphasis mine)–Jiminy Cricket, what’s up when it’s the art school parents attacking books!] but even if it is an elementary school (which it probably isn’t, not that that matters), banning books from our public school system is regressive at best, and ultimately an abasement of knowledge and intellect. In the past, DCPS has restricted and/or banned The Autobiography of Malcolm X, Catcher in the Rye, Of Mice and Men and at least a dozen more books (I haven’t been able to locate a complete list as of now). Of course, every year many books are challenged (the Harry Potter series springs immediately to mind, and Judy Blume has always caused problems for uptight parents who don’t want to talk honestly with their kids) and as an English teacher I’ve dealt with this in my own classroom, from both parents and administration (an administrator advised [i.e. told] me not to have my students read The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn; another time an administrator was shocked by the diction of Zora Neale Hurston’s classic Their Eyes Were Watching God). This particular mother’s concern is the “questionable” nature of the Lucky‘s themes which might cause readers to uhm, you know, question stuff. If super-mom doesn’t want her kid to read so-and-so, that’s fine with me (and what a great, attentive parent to be all up in the grill of said child’s reading material. Seriously. We (educationeers) really encourage reading with your kids. For real)–but why attempt to ban the book? Why can’t the rest of us make these decisions for ourselves? I could go and on, but I think that my readers don’t need convincing (if you need convincing that banning books is an anti-progress gesture indicative of a caveman mentality, email me at biblioklept.ed@gmail.com). Let’s not add to Jax’s reputation as a bastion of provincial attitudes (particularly in light of recent vagina-controversies): if necessary, we must fight for this book, and every other book’s, place on the library shelf.

For a list of the 100 Most Frequently Challenged Books, go here.

Persepolis

“It was funny to see how Marx and God looked like each other.”

Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis makes a nice introduction to the graphic novel autobiography for anyone who hasn’t read one before. Marjane’s memoir weaves the political turmoil of the Islamic Revolution with the everyday stuff of childhood experience. As the the repressive Islamic regime revokes liberal freedoms, Marjane’s folks (secular intellectuals, of course) smuggle Iron Maiden posters back from Turkey; young Marjane sneaks cigarettes and rock music to a backdrop of political assassinations and war with Iraq.

persepolis_extract2

Persepolis succeeds by engaging the reader in a personal experience of revolution and cultural alienation. It works as a history lesson and as a coming of age story. Readers who try something different (maybe suspend some prejudices?) will be rewarded with an enriched perspective on a political/cultural upheaval still effecting global politics today.

Word of the Week

Gnoff

From the OED:

Obs.

A churl, boor, lout.

c1386 CHAUCER Miller’s T. 2 A riche gnof, that gestes heeld to bord, And of his craft he was a Carpenter. 1566 DRANT Horace, Sat. I. i. Aib, The chubbyshe gnof that toyles and moyles and delueth in the downe. 1567 TURBERV. Epit., etc. 4 If Vulcan durst presume That was a Gnuffe to see..Dame Venus to assaile. 1575 A. NEVILLE De furor. Norf. 141 The cuntry gnooffes, Hob, Dick, & Hick, with clubs, and clouted shoon [so a1627 in Hayward Edw. VI, 76 (but spelt knuffes)]. 1581 J. STUDLEY Seneca’s Hercules {Oe}tæus 198 The covetous charle, the greedy gnoffe in deede..In plenty pines the wreatch. 1610 HEALEY St. Aug. Citie of God XIV. iv. 501 The Pagans wisdome and vertues were scorned of the ritch gnoffes [L. crassis diuitibus] that held shades for substances, and vertues for meere vanities.”

Famous gnoffs include:

Falstaff

Walter Sobchak

The Thing

Make It So

I promise to start writing about books again next week–but for now, I’ve got to share this: Patrick Stewart on Ricky Gervais’s Extras talking about the script he’s writing. I was literally on the floor laughing. (Caveat: My wife was neither on the floor with laughter, or laughing out loud; nor did she seem to think that I should be laughing at all, let alone on the floor).

Cookie Party

The Sarah Silverman Program debuted on Comedy Central last night and I was surprised at how much I enjoyed it. I like Silverman’s comedy, but I didn’t really think much of Jesus is Magic, her concert movie from a year or two ago–it felt stretched out, and her best bits, while still vicious and incisively stupid, felt somehow neutered and flat.

The Sarah Silverman Program is a big improvement. It’s a half-hour comedy based on the life of a fictional, orphaned Sarah Silverman, who is cared for by her younger sister. In the first episode Sarah goes nuts on cough syrup, inspiring a psychedelic spree reminiscent (and worthy of) Pee-wee’s Playhouse. In the mayhem that ensues, Sarah’s sister meets a police officer played by Jay Johnston (of Mr. Show fame); Sarah’s sis then blows off Cookie Party night to go on a date with said cop. Cookie Party was my favorite part of the show. It’s a contest show where people call in and vote for cookies. After Sarah’s sis skips their weekly standing date, Sarah gets into the cough syrup again; more mayhem.

There’s something in the tone and pacing of TSSP that’s a little bit deviant from the standard ironic tropes of satire; Sarah’s vision of a sitcom is a corroded mimesis of “hip,” “ironic” comedy–willfully stupid, infantile, scatological, zany, crushingly narcissistic, truly antisocial, coming off like an egotistical in-joke between Sarah and herself. Sarah’s songs, jokes, gestures, and non-jokes all add up to a truly bizarre, fun, and funny show.

A clip of the show (not last night’s, but all I could find on Youtube):

And here’s Sarah telling a famous joke in The Aristorcrats

Rorschach Cow

“Rorshach Cow” by dpenguin. What do you see?