oh...just me: May 2009 Archives

We are all guilty here

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Language is a force.

Language names, and by naming, it calls into being. This is how social reality is constructed and maintained. I think it is an effect of quantum mechanics, but smarter minds than mine are needed to make the connections in a compelling scientific manner.

Last fall I wrote a post on some dynamics of dialogue and discourse, in which I engaged with ideas of a discursive psychologist, Michel Billig.

The core of the argument laid out by Michael Billig (in the articles from Discourse and Society 2008, Vol. 19, Issue 6) is that we who think in terms of critical discourse analysis (CDA) need to be acutely aware of our own uses of language, lest we repeat some of the very elements of language use that we critique in others. Billig's concern is with social scientific language in general; he selects CDA for heuristic and practical purposes: "It should be a major issue for analysts who stress the pivotal role of language in the reproduction of ideology, inequality and power" (p. 784).

In particular, Billig goes after the academic/theoretical use of nominalization, which is a shorthand way of condensing a particular dynamical concept (something with a lot of parts) into a single term. Debate over costs and benefits of using nominalization seem to swing on the temporal grounding of interlocutors. I'm thinking at the mundane level as well as at level of ideological reproduction. For instance, does saying something about (i.e., naming) tensions in a friendship necessarily make them worse or can it provide a means to shift footings? At the precise moment of making the utterance, there may be a spike in bad feelings - all that tension concentrated and released in the acts of speaking and hearing. But I think that it is what comes next (at least, so I hope) that becomes determinative for the subsequent unfolding. When nominalization is at play, Billig argues there is a tendency to depersonalize behavior or action such that individual contributions to whatever unfolds are lost to perception. So the pattern of tensions enacted when one or another party to the tension actually says something directly about the presence or evidence of tension becomes bigger than the minute social interactions that compose it. The pattern itself becomes "the thing", and individuals are simply swept up in it, all agency erased.

The question is, when things are not going the way one wishes, what next? I watched an interesting video on the synthesis of happiness this morning (20 minutes long) which argues that if we assume irretrievability, then we enhance our capacity to choose happiness. I'm wondering if this basic precept - that's what done is done and can't be changed - could guide many other choices, including the ways we respond when we find ourselves seemingly trapped in a discourse that we don't necessarily want. I believe it is the element of acknowledgment that I am finding most attractive. Perhaps my general communicative strategy is to reduce uncertainty (see What You Don't Know Makes You Nervous) in order to make choices clear.

Perhaps.

Rebounding

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Year One, Second Half
Geneva (Perle du Lac)

A year ago, I marked a confluence of transitions. How many times, I continue to wonder, can one bounce back from failure? I also consider, if failure (however conceived) has lead me here . . .

:-)
I am full of reflections and anticipations.

So what if the museum is closed on Tuesday? (Familiar.) I think I'm gonna have to order "The Lives of Einstein."

I got enough of a buzz from the outdoor displays. Auguste de la Rive's ideas about the Aurora Borealis, for instance, were half correct: they do result from a combination of magnetism (strongest at the earth's poles) and electricity. He was only wrong about the origins of the involved electricity - not terrestrial, but from the larger cosmos. Marc-Auguste Pictet was involved in negotiations concerning the establishment of the prime meridian, and Jean-Robert Chovet (unlike yours truly) was known for his diplomatic skill and (similar to yours truly) believed "more weight should be given to lay people in the management of the Academy" (emphasis added, and - in addition to esteemed institutions of higher learning, many domains could be substituted in place of the organizational forebear of the University of Geneva). (Time, by the way, to read Descartes: Discourse on the Method. And do you think it is remotely possible for a person to function like a gnomon?)

As it turned out, I did not travel by water taxi across the lake to the Jardin Anglais to see the flower clock or the Musee de l'Horlogerie (which may or may not have been open). I did, however, wander through the Jardin Botanique spying all manner of flower, plant, and tree, not to mention several varieties of parrot, swans, geese, flamingos, and ducks, including some fantastically-plumaged Mandarin Ducks and Indian Peafowl. For spice, there were also Hermann's Tortoises and Fallow Deer.

In case there was any danger of not living up to full nerdist credentials, I spent several hours writing (a book review, hopefully coming soon), during which I fielded delightful communiques from dearest friends and family. Whatever shadows thought to threaten the day were readily banished and I've just got the feeling that the coming second year after the cutting will proceed in more-or-less similar fashion as this one just passed.

At any rate, here's hoping!


Dear Carole,

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I don't want your departure to hurt so much, but it does.

Silly, I know. I'm watching the wind blow lush spring foliage like currents in the sea, swirling in multiply-rippled design - now unfurling a wide swath then cutting back against itself, sweeping into new unpredictable configurations and keeping me guessing, waiting, eager for the next sussuration. I envision your spirit - free and unconfined, stretching luxuriously in a slow rush into each nook and every new cranny available to your expansive perception.

Life with you was like that. Fun, adventurous - serious with plenty of irreverence and mischief to keep everything in balance.

You figure prominently in so many significant experiences of my life: co-chairing the BiBi Committee at Austine, corralling some wild women into a spirituality group, modeling motherhood - so proud and respectful of your daughter, she of the best name-sign in the world! All those talks and walks and meals in Vermont, the summer of our Saturday mornings at the Farmer's Market. The trip to Hawai'i. Our friendship crested and ebbed like breathing as we experienced stretches of intimacy, distance, renewed closeness, and then this long, quiet goodbye.

I remember when you told me they'd found a lump in your breast. You minimized it, sure that it was nothing really, just a bit of lingering karmic energy that you would dissolve in no time. I believed you. You whose consciousness encompassed more spacetime than anyone else I know - probably more than all of us put together! - it just did not occur to me that you might be wrong. Even as the illness got worse and you left work, moving to a safe and quiet place for deep and wholesome healing, I never doubted that you would be back: that your laugh would ring out, your gaze question my grip on reality, your compassion pour out in my presence.

It will have to wait for the next incarnation, now, won't it? Maybe I'll have caught up a bit by then.

;-)

Love,
steph


wink added 8 May 2009

after the shock wore off


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