"Ah, the rich irony is that I've tried to post this a few times over the past 24
hours, and it refuses to let me do so, with a message that says I am unable to
post because it is on a topic 'deemed controversial: men.'"
Our topic for the day: What if someone threw a blog and nobody came?
Iíll offer what I can by means of analysis and critique, not as an attack upon
your indefatigable enthusiasm, Steph, but as another clarification of my point.
First and foremost, I think the RUSH to form a group blog is both unnecessary
and smacking of a kind of efficiency that is potentially anti-democratic. WHY,
precisely, must ìweî decide on this now, soon, or quickly? Isnít that the
problem with the current political milieuó-namely, that policies are enacted
without foresight, patience, time to deliberate, and a sense that the best
judgments and ways to proceed make take awhile to process and put into action?
That is, while I deeply appreciate the call to action, I do not think that
silence among us necessarily warrants an interpretation of inaction or
disinterest. If you wish to make a case for the right-now-right-here approach,
I will listen, but you have not convinced me of the need to do anything quickly
except as a personal need or interest of yours. And while I support that
personal investment, both as your friend and colleague, it alone does not
represent for me an impetus for collective and public action.
Whatís more, to ìthrow downî about a public activity like blogging is a bit like
the Bush administrationís approach to democracy in Iraq, is it not? And therein
lies my concern: Democracy needs to grow from the ground-up to succeed, not be
brought in by the sword. It needs to be embraced, not forced. It needs to
emerge and evolve by ìthe people,î not ordered by an authority. I am quite
happy that no one picked up on the ìthrow down;î it may well show that we all
actually care about democratic interaction more than democratic decorations. So
I would implore you to be patient, even if it means nothing materializes.
My third point is a reiteration of a longstanding one, namely that Reflexivity
does not strike me as a place for public action because it is too strongly
linked through a history that cannot be changed to private action. How
precisely am I to associate with a blog in which a few days ago I read about
someone I donít know labeling you as depressed? Should I be pressed upon to
speak about these matters in my own life? I do think I could share with all of
you what some right-wing undergraduates wrote in my evaluations for Democracy
and Discourseó-one of them called me Eurotrash and said that my hatred for
America is so apparent I donít deserve to live in his country-óbut only because
it is both hilarious and telling of a political / public issue, namely this
recent attempt by the right to attack leftist professors. But quite honestly, I
donít think any of you need to know when Iím depressed or when Iím happy. I say
this not because I am an emotionally-closed human being; quite the contrary, as
those of you who know me well know. Nor to rule the emotional and the private
out of politics, which is completely against the embodied notions of democracy I
stand for. It is, however, because I think there are more important issues for
the public to discuss than my current emotional state of being.
Donít get me wrong: I support blogs as places for this emotional display, and I
support Reflexivity as yours, Steph. But if I were to participate regularly in
a site dedicated to some collective action, I would want the founding group to
have some say over the content, and would want to consider it every time someone
new joined in as a serious participant (rather than, say, a lurker or infrequent
contributor). The ìproblemî with Reflexivity is that the rules were
pre-established to the rest of us and will forever bear traces of its origin.
For a collective website to thrive, I think it must start out that way as well:
collectively. (Although there is absolutely nothing wrong, in my opinion, with
debating this issue on Reflexivity, working out details for a new site there,
and even opportunities for persuasion to change our opinions about Reflexivity
as the best site.)
There is another issue here. Notice how you choose the language of ìtainting.î
Notice also how your wonderment about the inaction is predicated on a
vocabulary and search for privatized, psychologized, inward-turned motives;
hence the comic genius of Donna ìconfessingî she is simply too busy right now.
Iím busy too, but it would be just as legitimate for me to say I am not
participating these days because I am doing absolutely nothing except watching
bad television and playing video games. Are you, Steph, somehow implying a
hierarchy of values for which we are to organize our lives and confess our sins
when we donít live up to some imposed order? Guilt rituals are PRECISELY what I
think needs to be weeded out of anything that is remotely democratic
interaction, and such guilt rituals are PRECISELY the heart of what I mean by a
piety that threatens a robust democratic. Such a frameó-Reflexivity is
ìtainted,î you are ìtainted,î we are not attentive, we need to confess what we
are doing, we need to confess our relationships with a tainted personó-itís all
so tragic. Perhaps you might put all that depressed energy into a comic
gesture, and then the invitations to participate will not need be coercive?
(And incidentally, you claim that you do not want followers, but only to be
ìrecognized and remembered.î I trust you saw *Troy*, or at least know enough
stories about tragic heroes to know they always say the same exact thing. At
least in literature and in films, the audiences know enough not to believe them,
or to understand that the difference is too slim to matter.)
If you wish to challenge us to join in a conversationó-a point I hold in high
regard and applaudó-let me challenge you to make it worth our involvement.
Instead of keeping alive a false hope that Reflexivity will become the place you
want it to become for us, perhaps you might start the conversation about what a
new place might beó-and how we might find some common COMIC ground and a COMIC
name to enact it?
Cheers, Stephen

boo