Die Inhalte der verlinkten Blogs und Blog Beiträge unterliegen in vielen Fällen keiner redaktionellen Kontrolle.
Warnung zur Verfügbarkeit
Eine dauerhafte Verfügbarkeit ist nicht garantiert und liegt vollumfänglich in den Händen der Blogbetreiber:innen. Bitte erstellen Sie sich selbständig eine Kopie falls Sie einen Blog Beitrag zitieren möchten.
Theory Talk #75: Tarak Barkawi on IR after the West, and why the best work in IR is often found at its marginsIn this Talk, Tarak Barkawi discusses the importance of the archive and real-world experiences, at a time of growing institutional constraints. He reflects on the growing rationalization and "schoolification" of the academy, a disciplinary and epistemological politics institutionalized within a university audit culture, and the future of IR in a post-COVID world. He also discusses IR's contorted relationship to the archive, and explore future sites of critical innovation and inquiry, including the value of knowledge production outside of the academy. PDF version of this TalkSo what is, or should be, according to you, the biggest challenge, or principal debate in critical social sciences and history?Right now, despite thinking about it, I don't have an answer to that question. Had you asked me five years ago, I would have said, without hesitation, Eurocentrism. There's a line in Chakrabarty's Provincializing Europe where he remarks that Europe has already been provincialized by history, but we still needed to provincialize it intellectually in the social sciences. Both sides of this equation have intensified in recent years. Amid a pandemic, in the wreckage of neoliberalism, in the wake of financial crisis, the defeats in Iraq and Afghanistan, the events of the Trump Presidency, and the return of the far right, the West feels fundamentally reduced in stature. The academy, meanwhile, has moved on from the postcolonial to the decolonial with its focus on alternative epistemologies, about which I am more ambivalent intellectually and politically. Western states and societies are powerful and rich, their freedoms attractive, and most of them will rebound. But what does it mean for the social sciences and other Western intellectual traditions which trace their heritage to the European Enlightenments that the West may no longer be 'the West', no longer the metropole of a global order more or less controlled by its leading states? What kind of implications does the disassembling of the West in world history have for social and political inquiry? I don't have an answer to that. Speaking more specifically about IR, we are dealing now with conservative appropriations of Eurocentrism, with the rise of other civilizational IRs (Chinese, European, Indian). These kinds of moves, like the decolonial one, foreground ultimately incommensurable systems of knowing and valuing, at best, and at worst are Eurocentrism with the signs reversed, usually to China. I do not think what we should be doing right now in the academy is having Chinese social sciences, Islamic social sciences, Indian social sciences, and so on. But that's definitely one way in which the collapse of the West is playing out intellectually. How did you arrive at where you currently are in your thinking about International Relations?By the time you get to my age you have a lot of debt, mostly to students, to old teachers and supervisors, and to colleagues and friends. University scholars tend not to have very exciting lives, so I don't have much to offer in the way of events. But I can give you an experience that I do keep revisiting when I reflect on the directions I've taken and the things I've been interested in. When I was in high school, I took a university course taught by Daniel Ellsberg, of the Pentagon Papers. As many will know, before he became involved in the Vietnam War, and later in opposing it, he worked on game theory and nuclear strategy. I grew up in Southern California, in Orange County, and there was a program that let you take courses at the University of California, Irvine. I took one on the history of the Roman Empire and then a pair of courses on nuclear weapons that culminated with one taught by Ellsberg himself. I actually had no idea who he was but the topic interested me. Nuclear war was in the air in the early 1980s. Activist graduate students taught the preparatory course. They were good teachers and I learned all about the history and politics of nuclear weapons. But I also came to realize that these teachers were trying to shape (what I would now call) my political subjectivity. Sometimes they were ham handed, like the old ball bearings in the tin can trick: turn the lights out in the room, and put one ball bearing in the can for each nuclear warhead in the world, in 1945 this many; in 1955 this many; and so on. In retrospect, that's where I got hooked on the idea of graduate school. I was aware that Ellsberg was regarded as an important personage. He taught in a large lecture hall. At every session, a kind of loyal corps of new and old activists turned out, many in some version of '60s attire. The father of a high school friend was desperate to get Ellsberg's autograph, and sent his son along with me to the lecture one night to get it. It was political instruction of the first order to figure out that this suburban dad had been a physics PhD at Berkley in the late '60s and early '70s, demonstrating against the Vietnam War. But now he worked for a major aerospace defense contractor. He had a hot tub in his backyard. Meanwhile, Ellsberg cancelled class one week because he'd been arrested demonstrating at a major arms fair in Los Angeles. "We stopped the arms race for a few hours," he told the class after. I schooled myself on who Ellsberg was and Vietnam, the Cold War, and much else came into view. Meanwhile, he gave a master class in nuclear weapons and foreign policy, cheekily naming his course after Kissinger's book, I later came to appreciate. I learned about RAND, the utility of madness for making nuclear threats, and how close we'd come to nuclear war since 1945. My high school had actually been built to double as a fallout shelter, at a time when civil defense was taken seriously as an aspect of a credible threat of second strike. It was low slung, stoutly built, with high iron fences that could be closed to create a cantonment. We were not far from Seal Beach Naval Weapons Station and a range of other likely targets. All of this sank in as I progressed in these courses. Then one day at a strip mall bookstore, I discovered Noam Chomsky's US foreign policy books and never looked back. At Cambridge, I caught the tail end of the old Centre of International Studies, originally started by an intelligence historian and explicitly multi-disciplinary. It had, in my time, historians, lawyers, area studies, development studies, political theory and history of thought, and IR scholars and political scientists. Boundaries certainly existed out there in the disciplines. But there weren't substantial institutional obstacles to thinking across them, while interdisciplinary environments gave you lots of local resources (i.e. colleagues and students) for thinking and reading creatively. What would a student need to become a kind of specialist in your kind of area or field or to understand the world in a global way? Lots of history, especially other peoples' histories; to experience what it's like to see the world from a different place than where you grew up, so that the foreign is not an abstraction to you. I think another route that can create very interesting scholars is to have a practitioner career first, in development, the military, a diplomatic corps, NGOs, whatever. Even only five years doing something like that not only teaches people how the world works, it is intellectually fecund, creative. People just out of operational posts are often full of ideas, and can access interesting resources for research, like professional networks. How, in your view, should IR responding to the shifting geopolitical landscape? The fate I think we want to avoid is carrying on with what Stanley Hoffmann called the "American social science": the IR invented out of imperial crisis and world war by Anglo-American officials, foundations and thinkers. Very broadly speaking, and with variations, this was a new world combination of realism and positivism. This discipline was intended as the intellectual counterpart to the American-centered world order, designed, among other things, to disappear the question of race in the century of the global color line. The way it conceived the national/international world obscured how US world power worked in practice. That power operated in and through formally sovereign, independent states—an empire by invitation, in the somewhat rosy view of Geir Lundestad—trialed in Latin America and well suited to a decolonizing world. It was an anti-colonial imperium. Political science divided up this world between IR and comparative politics. This kind of IR is cortically connected to the American-centered world fading away before our eyes. It is a kind of zombie discipline where we teach students about world politics as if we were still sitting with the great power peacemakers of 1919 and 1944-45. It is still studying how to make states cooperate under a hegemon or how to make credible deterrence threats in various circumstances. Interestingly, I think one of the ways the collapse of US power is shaping the discipline was identified by Walt and Mearsheimer in their 2013 article on the decline of theory in IR. In the US especially but not only, IR is increasingly indistinguishable from political science as a universal positivist enterprise mostly interested in applying highly evolved, quantitative or experimental approaches to more or less minor questions. Go too far down this road and IR disappears as a distinct disciplinary space, it becomes just a subject matter, a site of empiricist inquiry. Instead, the best work in IR mostly occurs on the edges of the discipline. IR often serves as cover for diverse and interdisciplinary work on transboundary relations. Those relations fall outside the core objects of analysis of the main social science and humanities disciplines but are IR's distinctive focus. The mainstream, inter-paradigm discipline, for me, has never been a convincing social science of the international and is not something I teach or think much about these days. But the classical inheritances of the discipline help IR retain significant historical, philosophical and normative dimensions. Add in a pluralist disposition towards methodology, and IR can be a unique intellectual space capable of producing scholars and scholarship that operate across disciplines. The new materialism, or political ecology, is one area in which this is really happening right now. IR is also a receptive home for debating the questions thrown up by the decolonial turn. These are two big themes in contemporary intellectual life, in and beyond the academy. IR potentially offers distinct perspectives on them which can push debates forward in unexpected ways, in part because we retain a focus on the political and the state, which too easily drop out of sight in global turns in other disciplines. In exchange, topics like the new materialism and the decolonial offer IR the chance to connect with world politics in these new times, after the American century. In my view, and it is not one that I think is widely shared, IR should become the "studies" discipline that centers on the transboundary. How do we re-imagine IR as the interdisciplinary site for the study of transboundary relations as a distinct social and political space? That's a question of general interest in a global world, but one which few traditions of thought are as well-equipped to reflect on and push forward as we are.That's an interesting and forceful critique which also brings us back to a common thread throughout your work: questions of power and knowledge and specifically the relation between power and knowledge in IR and social science. I'm interested in exploring this point further, because so much of your critique has been centered on how profoundly Eurocentric IR is and as a product of Western power. Well, IR's development as a discipline has been closely tied to Western state power. It would seem that it has to change, given the shifts underway in the world. It's like Wile E. Coyote in the Road Runner cartoons - he's run off the cliff. His legs are still moving, but he hasn't dropped, yet. That said, there's no singularly determinate relation between power and the historical development of intellectual traditions. Who knows what kind of new ideas and re-imagining of IR's concepts we might see? As I say, I think one reflection of these changes is that we're already seeing North American IR start to fade into universal quantitative social science. As Hoffmann observed, part of IR's appeal was that the Americans were running the world, that's why you started a social science concerned with things like bipolarity and deterrence, and with analyzing the foreign policy of a great power and its interests and conflicts around the world. Nowadays the Americans are at a late Roman stage of imperial decline. Thinking from the command posts of US foreign policy doesn't look so attractive or convincing when Emperor Nero is running the show, or something altogether darker is waiting in the wings. IR is supposed to be in command of world politics, analyzing them from on high. But what I've seen over the course of my education and career is the way world politics commands IR. The end of the Cold War torpedoed many careers and projects; the 1990s created corps of scholars concerned with development, civil war and humanitarian intervention; in the 2000s, we produced terrorism experts (and critical terrorism studies) and counterinsurgency specialists and critics, along with many scholars concerned in one way or another with Islam. What I have always found fascinating, and deeply indicative, about IR is the relative absence until relatively recently of serious inquiry into power/knowledge relations or the sociology of knowledge. In 1998 when Ole Waever goes to look at some of these questions, he notes how little there was to work from then, before Oren, Vitalis, Guilhot and others published. It's an astounding observation. In area studies, in anthropology, in the history of science, in development studies, in all of these areas of inquiry so closely entangled with imperial and state power, there are long-running, well developed traditions of inquiry into power/knowledge relations. It's a well-recognized area of inquiry, not some fringe activity, and it's heavily empirical, primary sourced based, as well as interesting conceptually. In recent decades you've seen really significant work come out about the role of the Second World War in the development of game theory, and its continuing entwinement with the nuclear contest of the Cold War. I'm thinking here of S.M. Amadae, Paul Erickson, and Philip Mirowski among others. The knowledge forms the American social science used to study world politics were part and parcel of world politics, they were internal to histories of geopolitics rather than in command of them. Of course, for a social science that models itself on natural science, with methodologies that produce so-called objective knowledge, the idea that scientific knowledge itself is historical and power-ridden, well, you can't really make sense of that. You'd be put in the incoherent position of studying it objectively, as it were, with the same tools. IR arises from the terminal crisis of the British Empire; its political presuppositions and much else were fundamentally shaped by the worldwide anti-communist project of the US Cold War state; and it removed race as a term of inquiry into world politics during the century of the global color line. All this, and but for Hoffmann's essay, IR has no tradition of power/knowledge inquiry into its own house until recently? It's not credible intellectually. Anthropologists should be brought in to teach us how to do this kind of thing. You've been at the forefront of the notion of historical IR, and in investigating the relationship between history and theory – why is history important for IR?Well, I think I'd start with the question of what do we mean when we say history? For mainstream social science, it means facts in the past against which to test theories and explanations. For critical IR scholars, it usually means historicism, as that term is understood in social theory: social phenomena are historical, shaped by time and place. Class, state, race, nation, empire, war, these are all different in different contexts. While I think this is a very significant insight and one that I agree with, on its own it tends to imply that historical knowledge is available, that it can be found by reading historians. In fact, for both empiricism and historicism there is a presumption that you can pretty reliably find out what happened in the past. For me, this ignores a second kind of historicism, the historicism of history writing itself, the historiographical. The questions historians ask, how they inquire into them, the particular archives they use, the ways in which they construct meaning and significance in their narratives, the questions they don't ask, that about which they are silent, all of these, shape history writing, the history that we know about. The upshot is that the past is not stable; it keeps changing as these two meanings of historicism intertwine. We understand the Haitian revolution now, or the indigenous peoples of the Americas, entirely differently than we did just a few decades ago.That raises another twist to this problem. Many IR scholars access history through reading historians or through synthetic accounts; they encounter history by and large through secondary sources. One consequence is that they are often a generation or more behind university historians. Think of how Gaddis, for instance, remains a go to authority on the history of the Cold War in IR. In other disciplines, from the 1980s on, there was a historical turn that took scholars into the archives. Anthropologists and literary scholars used historians' tools to answers their own questions. The result was not just a bunch of history books, but entirely new readings of core questions. The classic example is the historical Shakespeare that Stephen Greenblatt found in the archives, rather than the one whose texts had been read by generations of students in English departments. My point here is that working in archives was conceptually, theoretically significant for these disciplines and the subjects they studied. For example, historical anthropology has given us new perspectives on imperialism. While there is some archival work in IR of course, especially in disciplinary history, it is not central to disciplinary debates and the purpose is usually theory testing in which the past appears as merely a bag of facts. In sum, when I say history and theory, I don't just mean thinking historically. I mean actually doing history, being an historian—which means archives—and in so doing becoming a better theorist. Could you expand on these points by telling us about your recent work on military history? I think that military history is particularly interesting because it is a site where war is reproduced and shaped. Military history participates in that which it purports only to study. Popular military histories shape the identities of publics. Staff college versions are about learning lessons and fighting war better the next time. People who grow up wanting to be soldiers often read about them in history books. So our historical knowledge of war, and war as a social and historical process, are wrapped up together. I hope some sense of the promise of power/knowledge studies for larger questions comes through here. I'm saying that part of what war is as a social phenomenon is history writing about it. It's in this kind of context that the fact that a great deal of military history is actually written by veterans, often of the very campaigns of which they write, becomes interesting. Battle produces its own historians. This is a tradition that goes back to European antiquity, soldiers and commanders returning to write histories, the histories, of the wars they fought in. So this question of veterans' history writing is in constitutive relations with warfare, and with the West and its nations and armies. My shorthand for the particular area of this I want to look into is what I call "White men's military histories". That is, Western military history in the modern era is racialized, not just about enemies but about the White identities constructed in and through it. And I want to look at the way this is done in campaigns against racialized others, particularly situations where defeats and reverses were inflicted on the Westerners. How were such events and experiences made sense of historically? How were they mediated in and through military history? I think defeats are particularly productive, incitements to discourse and sense making. To think about these questions, I want to look at the place of veterans in the production of military histories, as authors, sources, communities of interpretation. My sandbox is the tumultuous first year of the Korean War, where US forces suffered publically-evident reverses and risked being pushed into the sea. In a variety of ways, veterans shape military history, through their questions, their grievances, their struggles over reputation, their memories. This happens at many different sites and scales, including official and popular histories, and the networks of veterans behind them as well as other, independently published works. Over the course of veterans' lives, their war throws up questions and issues that become the subject of sometimes dueling and contradictory accounts. Through their history writing, they connect their war experience to Western traditions of battle historiography. They make their war speak to other wars. This is what military history is, and how it can come to produce and reproduce practices of war-making, at least in Anglo-American context. Of course, much of this history writing, like narrations of experience generally, reflects dominant ideologies, in this case discourses of the US Cold War in Asia. But counter-historians are also to be found among soldiers. The shocks and tragic absurdities of any given war produce research questions of their own. At risk of mixing metaphors, the veterans know where the skeletons are buried. They bear resentments and grievances about how their war was conducted that become research topics, and they often have the networks and wherewithal to produce informed and systematic accounts. So as well as reproducing hegemonic discourses, soldier historians are also interesting as a new critical resource for understanding war.This shouldn't be that surprising. In other areas of inquiry, amateur and practitioner scholars have often been a source of critical innovation. LGBTQ history starts outside the academy, among activists who turned their apartments into archives. Much of what we now call postcolonial scholarship also began outside the academy, among colonized intellectuals involved in anti-imperial struggles. Let me close this off by going back to the archive. There are really rich sources for this kind of project. Military historians of all kinds leave behind papers full of their research materials and correspondence. The commanders and others they wrote about often waged extended epistolary campaigns concerned with correcting and shaping the historical record. But more than this, by situating archival sources alongside what later became researched and published histories, what drops out and what goes in to military history comes into view. What is silenced, and what is given voice? We can then see how the violent and forlorn episodes of war are turned into narrated events with military meaning. What is the process by which war experience becomes military history?Given the interdisciplinary nature of your work, what field you place yourself in? And are there any problems have you encountered when writing and thinking across scholarly boundaries?In my head I live in a kind of idealized interdisciplinary war studies, and my field is the intersection of war and empire. Sort of Michael Howard meets Critical Theory and Frantz Fanon. This has given me a particular voice in critical IR broadly conceived, and a distinctive place from which to engage the discipline. The mostly UK departments I've been in have been broadly hospitable places in practice for interdisciplinary scholarship and teaching, so long as you published rather than perished. Of course, interdisciplinary is a complicated word. It is one thing to be multi-disciplinary, to publish in the core journals of more than one discipline and to be recognized and read by scholars in more than one discipline. But work that falls between disciplinary centers, which takes up questions and offers answers recognized centrally by no discipline, that's something harder to deal with. I thought after Soldiers of Empire won prizes in two disciplines that I'd have an easier time getting funding for the project I described earlier in the interview. But I've gotten nowhere, despite years of applications to a variety of US, UK, and European funders. Of course, this may be because it is a bad project! My point, though, is that disciplines necessarily, and even rightly, privilege work that speaks to central questions; that's the work that naturally takes on significance in disciplinary contexts, as in many grant or scholarship panels. I think another point here is the nature of the times. Understandably, no one is particularly interested right now in White men's military histories. What I think has really empowered disciplines during my time in the UK academy has been the intersection with audit culture and university management. Repeated waves of rationalization have washed over the UK academy, which have emphasized discipline as a unit of measurement and management even as departments themselves were often "schoolified" into more or less odd combinations of disciplines. Schoolification helped to break down old solidarities and identities, while audit culture needed something on which to base its measures. The great victory of neoliberalism over the academy is evident in the way it is just accepted now that performance has to be assessed by various public criteria. This is where top disciplinary journals enter the picture, as unquestionable (and quantifiable) indicators of excellence. Interdisciplinary journals don't have the same recognition, constituency, or obvious significance. To put it in IR terms, Environment and Planning D or Comparative Studies in Society and History, to take two top journals that interdisciplinary IR types publish in, will never have the same weight as, say, ISQ or APSR. That that seems natural is an indicator of change—when I started, RIS—traditionally welcoming of interdisciplinary scholarship—was seen as just as good a place to publish as any US journal. Now RIS is perceived as merely a "national" journal while ISQ and APSR are "international" or world-class. This kind of thing has consequences for careers and the make-up of departments. What I'm drawing attention to is not so much an intellectual or academic debate; scholars always disagree on what good scholarship is, which is how it is supposed to be. It is rather the combination of discipline with the suffocating culture of petty management that pervades so much of British life. Get your disciplinary and epistemological politics institutionalized in an audit culture environment, and you can really expand. For example, the professionalization of methods training in the UK has worked as a kind of Trojan Horse for quantitative and positivist approaches within disciplines. In IR, in the potted geographic lingo we use, that has meant more US style work. Disappearing is the idea of IR as an "inter-discipline," where departments have multi-disciplinary identities like I described above. The US idea that IR is part of political science is much more the common sense now than it was in the UK. Another dimension of the eclipse of interdisciplinary IR has been the rise of quantitative European political science, boosted by large, multiyear grants from the ERC and national research councils. It's pretty crazy, strategically speaking, for the UK to establish a civilizational scale where you're always behind the US or its European counterparts. You'll never do North American IR as well as the North Americans do, especially given the disparity in resources. You'll always be trending second or third tier. The British do like to beat themselves up. Meanwhile, making US political science journals the practical standard for "international excellence" threatens to make the environment toxic for the very scholarship that has made British IR distinctive and attractive globally. The upshot of that will be another wave of émigré scholars, which the British academy's crises and reform initiatives produce from time to time. Think of the generation of UK IR scholars who decamped to Australia, an academy poised to prosper in the post-covid world (if the government there can get its vaccination program on track) and a major site right now of really innovative IR scholarship. To return to what you mentioned earlier regarding the hesitancy to go to the archives, this is also mirrored in a hesitancy to do serious ethnography, I think as well. Or there's this "doing ethnography" that involves a three-day field trip. This kind of sweet-shop 'pick and mix' has come to characterize some methodologies, because of these constraints that you highlight…A lot of what I'm talking about has happened within universities, it's not externally imposed or a direct consequence of the various government-run assessment exercises. Academics, eagerly assisted by university managers, have done a lot of this to themselves and their students. The implications can be far reaching for the kind of scholarship that departments foster, from PhDs on up. More and more of the UK PhD is taken up with research methods courses, largely oriented around positivism even if they have critical components. Already this gives a directionality to ideas. The advantage of the traditional UK PhD—working on your own with a supervisor to produce a piece of research—has been intellectual freedom, even when the supervisor wasn't doing their job properly. It's not great, but the possibility for creative, innovative, even field changing scholarship was retained. PhD students weren't disciplined, so to speak. What happens now is that PhD students are subject to a very strict four year deadline, often only partially funded, their universities caring mainly about timely completion not placement and preparation for a scholarly career, a classic case of the measurement displacing the substantive value. The formal coursework they get is methods driven. You can supervise interdisciplinary PhD research in this kind of environment, but it's not easy and poses real risks and creates myriad obstacles for the student. A strange consequence of this, as many of my master's students will tell you, is that I often advise them to consider US PhDs, just in other disciplines. That way, they get the benefit of rigorous PhD level coursework beyond methods. They can do so in disciplines like history or anthropology that are currently receptive both to the critical and the transnational/transboundary. That is not a great outcome for UK IR, even if it may be for critically-minded students. Outside of a very few institutions and scattered individuals, US political science, of course, has largely cleansed itself of the critical and alternative approaches that had started to flower in the glasnost era of the 1990s. That is not something we should be seeking to emulate in the UK.So yes, there's much to say here, about how the four year PhD has materially shaped scholarship in the UK. There is generally very little funding for field work. Universities worried about liability have put all kinds of obstacles in the way of students trying to get to field work sites. Requirements like insisting that students be in residence for their fourth year in order to write up and submit on time further limit the possibilities for field work. The upshot is to make the PhD dissertation more a library exercise or to favor the kind of quantitative, data science work that fits more easily into these time constraints and structures. Again, quite obviously, power sculpts knowledge. It becomes simply impossible, within the PhD, to do the kinds of things associated with serious qualitative scholarship, like learn languages, spend long time periods in field sites and to visit them more than once, to develop real networks there. Over time this shapes the academy, often in unintended ways. I think this is one of the reasons that IR in the UK has been so theoretic in character—what else can people do but read books, think and write in this kind of environment? As I say, the other kind of thing they can do is quantitative work, which takes us right back to the fate Walt and Mearsheimer sensed befalling IR as political science. Watch for IR and Data Science joint degrees as the next step in this evolution. Political Science in the US starts teaching methods at the freshman level. They get them young. We have discussed the rather grim state of affairs for the future of critical social science scholarship, at least in the UK and US. To conclude – what prospects for hope in the future are there?Well, if I had a public relations consultant pack, this is the point at which it would advise talking about children and the power of science to save us. I think the environment for universities, political, financial, and otherwise may get considerably more difficult. Little is untouchable in Western public life right now, it is only a question of when and in what ways they will come for us. The nationalist and far-right turns in Western politics feed off transgressing boundaries. There's no reason to suspect universities will be immune from this, and they haven't been. In the UK, as a consequence of Brexit, we are having to nationalise, and de-European-ise our scholarships and admissions processes. We are administratively enacting the surrender of cosmopolitan achievements in world politics and in academic life. This is not a plot but in no small measure the outcome of democratic will, registered in the large majority Boris Johnson's Conservatives won at the last general election. It will have far reaching consequences for UK university life. This is all pretty scary if you think, as I do, that we are nearer the beginning then the end of the rise of the right. Covid will supercharge some of these processes of de-globalization. I can already see an unholy alliance forming of university managers and introvert academics who will want to keep in place various dimensions of the online academic life that has taken shape since spring 2020. Often this will be justified by reference to environmental concerns and by the increased, if degraded, access that online events make possible. We are going to have a serious fight on our hands to retain our travel budgets at anywhere near pre-pandemic levels. I'm hoping that this generation of students, subjected to online education, will become warriors for in-person teaching. All of this said, it's hard to imagine a more interesting time to be teaching, thinking and writing about world politics. Politics quite evidently retains its capacity to turn the world upside down. Had you told US citizens where they would be on January 6th, 2021 in 2016, they would have called you alarmist if not outlandish. I think we're in for more moments like that. Tarak Barkawi is a professor of International Relations at LSE. He uses interdisciplinary approaches to imperial and military archives to re-imagine relations between war, armed forces and society in modern times. He has written on the pivotal place of armed force in globalization, imperialism, and modernization, and on the neglected significance of war in social and political theory and in histories of empire. His most recent book, Soldiers of Empire, examined the multicultural armies of British Asia in the Second World War, reconceiving Indian and British soldiers in cosmopolitan rather than national terms. Currently, he is working on the Korean War and the American experience of military defeat at the hands of those regarded as racially inferior. This new project explores soldiers' history writing as a site for war's constitutive presence in society and politics.PDF version of this Talk
The Anthropocene as a new epoch brings into question the traditional modes of conceptualising International Relations. We believe that it does this by forcing students and practitioners of International Relations to think through how the discipline works as a set of ideas and practices, in fact, as a way of understanding the nature of problems and policymaking per se. As a discipline, International Relations is particularly sensitive to the questioning of the problematics of human exceptionalism, rationalist problem-solving and liberal modernist imaginaries of progress, which have shaped the agendas of international peace, development and democracy. Beyond the dark days of the Cold War, when International Relations was essentially a strategic exercise of Realpolitik, the discipline has staked a lot on the basis that Enlightenment liberalism is the universal panacea to human ills and that irrational structures or agencies can be civilised or tamed to further the interests of humanity, both in national or global regimes of good governance and the rule of law. These dreams of liberal universal solutions appear to have run aground in the Anthropocene as the last decade has marked a shift away from universal, modernist or 'linear' understandings of power and agency. In a world, construed as more complex, contingent and relational and replete with crises and unpredicted 'tipping points', traditional assumptions are up-ended and unintended consequences seem more relevant than 'good intentions'. Concomitantly, the methodological focus has switched away from understanding the essence of entities and towards privileging the analysis of relations, networks and contexts. Key to this has been debates focused around climate change and global warming which explicitly cast policy problems not as external threats to the 'good life' (that requires securing) but as instead questioning the starting assumptions of separations between inside/ outside, humanity/ nature, solutions/ problems and referents/ threats. This elicits a very different way of thinking. If natural processes can no longer be separated from the historical impact of human development and are no longer merely the backdrop to a purely human drama of domestic and international political contestation, then the modernist understanding of the nature/ culture divide, separating social and natural science, no longer holds. Nature can no longer be understood as operating on fixed or natural laws, while politics and culture can no longer be understood as operating in a separate sphere of autonomy and freedom. These assumptions, central to modernist constructions of progress, are seen to no longer exist or to have always been problematic. Thus, the Anthropocene is not merely a question of new or more pressing problems, such as climate change and extreme weather events, but also a matter of the tools and understandings that are available to us: in other words, it is a matter of how we know —of epistemology— and also of what we understand the world to consist of —i.e. questions of ontology. Consider, for example, the conventional understanding of security as the protection of a valued referent against external threats. The condition of the Anthropocene challenges such a notion of security. The Anthropocene as a condition, problematises easy assumptions about 'us' as the security 'referent' —as the object to be secured. The problematisation of 'us' —the privileged gaze of the Western policymaking subject— opens up a substantial set of problems which deeply impact the disciplinary assumptions of International Relations. This is expressed, for example, in Bruno Latour's concept of Earthbound people, i.e., an imaginary collective of people who consider themselves sensitive and responsive, due to being bound by and to the Earth. We are the problem as much as the solution, the 'them' as much as the 'us', the 'enemy' as much as the 'friend'. Accordingly, the Anthropocene condition calls for reflection upon —and ultimately transition away from— the idea of a separation between nature and humanity. To perform this shift in perspective, concepts such as "worldly" or "ecological security" have been proposed. Matt McDonald develops a notion "ecological security" through an engagement with existing discourses of climate security. According to him, established ways of thinking about climate security would reinforce a problematic nature-culture divide by either presenting climate change as an external threat to vulnerable human communities or, conversely, human actors as a threat to fragile nature in need of protection. Ecological security would instead focus on supporting and sustaining the long-term resilience of ecosystems —understood as entangled systems of both human and non-human elements. Ensuring that "ecosystems can continue to function in the face of current and future change" is accordingly, the only defensible approach to security in the condition of the Anthropocene. Similarly, a worldly approach to security stresses that threats such as war, major industrial accidents, or ecological collapse do not affect humans in isolation but rather endanger the common worlds co-constituted by humans and diverse nonhuman beings. Harrington and Shearing hold that security in the Anthropocene should become oriented towards an "ethics of care". Care, according to them, is able to emphasize the types of deep relational thinking that are so appropriate when discussing the Earth's ongoing and unknown patterns of interactions and responses. It allows one to see security as a radical entanglement between humans, non-human animals, plants, bacteria, materials and technology. Learning how to navigate this entanglement with care will be a primary task for International Relations in our Anthropocene world. This article is organised in three sections. Firstly, we introduce the concept of the Anthropocene. We refer to the Anthropocene as a condition that we are in rather than as an external set of problems which we are confronted with. Understood as a condition which we are in, rather than merely a set of strategic and tactical problems which we confront, the Anthropocene enables us to go beyond the traditional binaries of our disciplinary tradition. The second section provides some background to the disciplinary history of International Relations, here we seek to briefly flag up the importance of thinking the Anthropocene in relation to the history of the discipline, which could be understood as moving from an 'inter-national' or state-centred focus during the Cold War to a global set of much broader concerns from the 1980s to the 2000s, to an increased interest in the Anthropocene, understood as a 'planetary' challenge to the liberal universal assumptions that followed the decline of 'realist' hegemony. The third section focuses on the implications of the Anthropocene for three key themes: knowledge, governance and security.
In: Orient: deutsche Zeitschrift für Politik, Wirtschaft und Kultur des Orients = German journal for politics, economics and culture of the Middle East, Band 47, Heft 4, S. 460-483
Diese Dissertation nimmt enttäuschte Versprechen vom Zugang zur Stadt zum Anlass einer Untersuchung urbaner Formen von Kollektivität. Fahrpreiserhöhungen im öffentlichen Verkehr haben im vergangenen Jahrzehnt in Brasilien (2013) und Chile (2019) Massenproteste gegen den Abbau öffentlicher Infrastrukturen und die hiermit einhergehende Verschärfung von sozialer und räumlicher Ungleichheit ausgelöst. Diese urbanen Bewegungen bilden nicht nur den zeitlichen Rahmen der vorliegenden Studie. Ich verstehe die Proteste als Teil eines "Globalen Südens", der in den vergangenen Jahren zum Ausgangspunkt einer Reihe von Theorieansätzen in der interdisziplinären Stadtforschung geworden ist. Die südamerikanischen Massenproteste stehen hier beispielhaft für Formen urbaner Kollektivität, die sich dem bisherigen Verständnis städtischer Transformationsprozesse entziehen. Denn die Proteste haben Fragen aufgeworfen, die auf die Dringlichkeit einer Beschäftigung mit den Kräften, Bewegungen, Dingen und Affekten hinweisen, welche diese Kollektive zusammenhalten: Wie lässt sich das Bilden spontaner Allianzen zwischen Bewohner*innen mit konträren politischen Überzeugungen und sozio-ökonomischen Zugehörigkeiten begreifen? Und wie werden diese scheinbar unbeständigen und wechselhaften Kollektive handlungs- und widerstandsfähig? Ich nähere mich diesen Fragen über eine Untersuchung des Konflikts um die älteste elektrische Straßenbahnlinie Südamerikas, in Rio de Janeiro. Zwischen 2014 und 2019 habe ich in dem betroffenen innerstädtischen Stadtteil eine ethnologische Feldforschung durchgeführt, welche sich auf den jahrelangen Ausfall der bonde (Brasilianisch für Straßenbahn) und die lokalen Forderungen nach ihrem Wiedereinsetzen konzentriert. Bonding macht hier einen konzeptionellen Vorschlag, der den Schwerpunkt auf die Verbindungen zwischen Bewohner*innen und urbaner Materialität legt. Im ersten Teil der Arbeit zeige ich, wie die bonde selbst Formationen urbaner Kollektivität beeinflusst hat. Ich führe zu diesem Zweck zunächst den Begriff des re-assembling ein, der beschreibt, wie infrastrukturelle Dinge/Belange über einen Zeitraum von sieben Jahren eine heterogene Gruppe von Protestierenden im Stadtteil immer wieder neu versammelt haben. Dieser Formationsprozess basiert auf kollektiven Erfahrungen, welche die Bahn trotz ihrer Abwesenheit "präsent" werden – und sie nach ihrer Rückkehr als "abwesend" aufrufen ließen. Um dieser paradoxen Beobachtung zur Beharrlichkeit bestimmter Kollektive eine zeitliche Dimension zu geben führe ich den Begriff der premissory assemblage ein. Dieser verweist darauf, wie aktuelle Formationen von Kollektivität mit Imaginationen des Urbanen, verkörperten Erinnerungen, Ressentiments und Verlangen zusammenhängen, die wiederum eng mit der Geschichte von Straßenbahn-Technologie (in Rio und darüber hinaus) verwoben sind. Der zweite Teil der Arbeit entwickelt "bonding" als Konzept, um das urbane Paradox von flüchtigen und dennoch verlässlichen, von scheinbar stabilen und dennoch unverbindlichen Verbindungen zu versöhnen und so einen Beitrag zu der Frage zu leisten was die Stadt zusammenhält. Ich zeige hier anhand von drei Begriffen – material resistance, promissory things, loose bonds – welche Qualitäten der Verbindung es ermöglichen, das fragile Gleichgewicht kollektiven Lebens in dem von mir untersuchten Stadtteil aufrechtzuerhalten. "Material Resistance" zeigt, wie sich die Widerstandsfähigkeit der hundertjährigen bonde über subtile, habituelle Bewegungen auf die lokalen Bewohner*innen übertragen hat, und wie diese Verbindung sowohl revolutionäre Forderungen nach kostenlosem Transport als auch ein reaktionäres Festhalten an den (Bahn-)Eigenheiten hervorbringt. "Promissory Things" verweist darauf, wie bestimmte Elemente der Infrastruktur zur Elastizität von Verbindungen beitragen indem sie selbst Versprechen machen, die gerade aufgrund ihrer Unverlässlichkeit den Raum für Verhandlungen zwischen den unterschiedlichen Bewohner*innen, sowie zwischen diesen und den städtischen Autoritäten öffnen. Als "Loose Bonds" schließlich bezeichne ich Verbindungen, welche aus unbewussten, affektiven Dynamiken von Abscheu, Entkopplung, und Distanzierung entstehen – und auf die bestimmte urbane Kollektive angewiesen sind, um überhaupt zu bestehen. ; This thesis examines the emergence of urban collectivity in the face of infrastructural breakdown and the failed promises of access to the city. In Brazil (2013) and Chile (2019), mass protests against fare increases in public transport have contested the ways in which deteriorating urban services further aggravate conditions of social and spatial inequality for a majority of city populations. These new urban movements frame the present study, which conceives of them as part of a "South" that has become the source for a series of generative theorizing in the field of urban studies. The fare-protests are seen here as exemplary for forms of collectivity that elude existing understandings of urban transformation and endurance. In other words, they have raised questions that point to the relevance of academic engagements with the forces, movements, things and affects that hold urban collectivities together: How to make sense of the emergence of spontaneous alliances between people of conflictive socioeconomic backgrounds and political convictions? And how to account for the collective agency and persistence of ostensibly ephemeral and fluid formations? I approach these questions from a case of infrastructural breakdown that has catapulted one of Rio de Janeiro's popular central city districts into a decade-long period of suspension. Between 2014 and 2019, I have carried out ethnographic fieldwork to canvass the attitudes of residents about the loss and subsequent re-installation of their bonde – the Brazilian word for tramway. Bonding makes a conceptual proposal that takes the relations between people and material elements in the city as starting point for the emergence of urban collectivity. Re-assembling, as explained in the first part of this thesis, describes a formation through which infrastructural matters have brought together repeatedly over a period of seven years a heterogeneous set of protesters, forging temporary alliances between bourgeois and working-class residents of the neighborhood based on shared intensities of how the tramway could be "felt into being" during the period of suspension – and of how it could in turn be enacted as absent after its re-installation. To add a temporal layer to this observation about the tenacity of particular collectives, I introduce the notion of premissory assemblage, which designates a formation that evolves around the cultural legacy of tramways (in Rio and beyond) and that points to how urban imaginaries, embodied memories, collective resentments and desires that un/relate people and urban matters today are entangled with the history this particular technology. The second part of this thesis develops "bonding" as a concept, to reconcile the paradox of the seemingly solid and the yet transitory, of tight attachments and noncommittal relationships that I believe helps approach the question what holds the city together. I introduce the notion of material resistance here to point to how the micropolitical quality of relations between residents and the tramway has generated both revolutionary claims for fare-free transport and a reactionary holding-on to its peculiarities. Further exploring the elasticity of such relations, I show how the originally outspoken promise of tramway-return has become distributed across other infrastructural elements and how such promissory things have condensed temporal and spatio-affective dynamics of anticipation, speculation and deferral into a sense of togetherness that bolstered local ways of organizing collective life. Finally, I argue that particular formations that best be described as "urban majorities" manage to uphold their fragile balances through a simultaneous movement of care for looseness and by putting disrepair into action – and by this convey some of the collectivities that endure out of the way of urban politics redemptive enactments.
Hladni rat je predstavljao rat ideologija bez presedana u istoriji. Nijedan drugi rat, ni pre ni posle ovog višedecenijskog hladnog sukoba između Sjedinjenih Američkih Država i Saveza Sovjetskih Socijalističkih Republika, nije bio rat koji se vodio u tolikoj meri u sferi meke moći kao Hladni rat. Odsustvo neposrednog oružanog sukoba između Sjedinjenih Američkih Država i Sovjetskog Saveza učinilo je da se Hladni rat odvija kao takmičenje u sferi ekonomije, tehnologije i nauke, kao trka u nuklearnom i konvencionalnom naoružanju i kao svemirsko nadmetanje. Pored takmičenja u sferi tvrde moći, Sjedinjene Američke Države i Sovjetski Savez vodili su intenzivnu bitku u oblasti meke moći. Ovo je bio sukob između američke liberalno-demokratske ideologije i sovjetske marksističke ideologije. Svaka od ove dve zemlje težila je tome da ubedi građane one druge zemlje da je njen društveni i ekonomski sistem idealan i da je bolji i pravedniji od sistema njenog glavnog suparnika. Uzrok propasti Sovjetskog Saveza i komunizma u istočnoj Evropi nikada sa sgurnošću neće moći da bude određen. Okolnosti koje su dovele do raspada Sovjetskog Saveza, pada Berlinskog zida 1989. godine i urušavanja komunizma u Evropi ne mogu se svesti na skup vojnih, političkih, ekonomskih i društvenih činilaca koji su, nezavisno jedni od drugih, doveli do tektonskih promena u međunarodnim odnosima. Svi ovi činioci zajedno, isprepletani u kompleksnu mrežu poluga, učinili su da se Sovjetski Savez uruši i da Sjedinjenim Američkim Državama prepusti ulogu pobednika u Hladnom ratu. Pritom, Amerika nije bila samo vojni i ekonomski pobednik. Amerika je iz Hladnog rata izašla kao moralni i ideološki pobednik. Hladni rat predstavlja temu izuzetno velikog broja radova, ali mali broj tih radova se bavi analizom američko-sovjetskog sukoba u sferi meke moći. Stoga je cilj ovog istraživanja i rada rasvetljavanje, objašnjene i tumačenje poluga meke moći koje su Sjedinjene Američke Države institucionalizovale, pokrenule i upotrebile u ideološkoj borbi protiv Sovjetskog Saveza u vreme Hladnog rata. Međutim, Sjedinjene Američke Države nisu od svog nastanka u drugoj polovini 18. veka do Hladnog rata osmišljeno primenjivale svoju meku moć. Do Hladnog rata upotreba poluga meke moći bila praksa kojom su se Sjedinjene Američke Države bavile isključivo u vreme učešća u oružanim sukobima. Tek sa Hladnim ratom u Americi se javlja potreba za namenskom i osmišljenom upotrebom poluga meke moći. Odmah nakon Drugog svetskog rata Sovjetski Savez je počeo da vrši uticaj na druge zemlje šireći marksističku ideologiju i komunističke ideje. Osim širenja marksističke ideologije Sovjetski Savez je vodio i dobro osmišljenu kampanju protiv Sjedinjenih Američkih Država i američkog načina života. Američka administracija je kao odgovor na sovjetsku spoljnu politiku u periodu od 1946. do 1950. godine stvorila politiku obuzdavanja Sovjetskog Saveza i sovjetskog uticaja u svetu svim sredstvima. Ovo je podrazumevalo kako upotrebu poluga tvrde moći tako i primenu poluga meke moći. U to vreme u američkom društvu postojao je konsenzus o upotrebi političkih, vojnih i ekonomskih oruđa u borbi protiv Sovjetskog Saveza, ali je upotreba poluga meke moći bila predmet duge javne rasprave. Jedna od izuzetno važnih poluga meke moći su državni programi informisanja, odnosno ono što se u Sjedinjenim Američkim Državama smatra propagandom, a propaganda se od nastanka Sjedinjenih Američkih Država do danas smatra nečasnom delatnošću autokratskih režima. Sjedinjene Američke Države su u periodu neposredno nakon Drugog svetskog rata sprovele zakonske, institucionalne i strukturalne promene koje su omogućile trajno ustanovljavanje poluga meke moći zarad širenja američkih vrednosti, ideja i kulture i zarad ideološke borbe protiv Sovjetskog Saveza i sovjetske marksističke ideologije. Zakoni doneti u to vreme su na snazi i danas i pružaju okvir za mnogobrojne programe i aktivnosti na polju primene poluga meke moći po celom svetu. ; The Cold War was a war without precedent in the history. No war before this prolonged cold conflict between the United States and the Soviet Union was waged that much in the realm of soft power as the Cold War. In the absence of an immediate armed conflict between the United States and the Soviet Union, the Cold War was conducted as a competition in the areas of economy, technology and science, nuclear and conventional weapons, as well as the space race. Besides the competition in the realm of hard power, the United States and the Soviet Union pursued an intensive battle in the realm of soft power. This was a conflict between the American ideology of a liberal democracy and the Soviet Marxist ideology. Each of the two attempted to persuade the citizens of the other country that its social and economic practice was an ideal one, better and more just than the other one. The source of the collapse of the Soviet Union and communism in Eastern Europe will never be fully determined. The circumstances that brought about the break-up of the Soviet Union, the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, and the fall down of communism in Europe cannot be summarized as an aggregation of military, political, economic and social factors that independently from each other led to the colossal changes in the world order. All of these factors, entangled together in a complex net, caused the implosion of the Soviet Union which left the United States as the winner in the Cold War. Yet, the United States was not only a military and economic victor, it resurfaced as a moral and ideological champion, as well. The Cold Was has been a theme of numerous papers but only a handful of these papers tackled the American-Soviet conflict in the realm of soft power. Thus, the objective of this research and dissertation is to shed the light, explain and construe the instruments of soft power that the United States institutionalized, put into motion and deployed in the ideological battle against Soviet Union in the Cold War. However, since its birth in the 18th century until the Cold War, the United States had not wielded its soft power strategically. Up to the Cold War, the soft power instruments were used exclusively during the times when the United States was involved in an armed conflict. Only in the Cold War, the need for intentional and thoughtful use of soft power instruments emerged. Soon after the end of the Second World War, the Soviet Union got set off to exert its influence by diffusing its Marxist ideology and communist values. In addition to spreading its ideology, the Soviet Union led a well-planned campaign against the United States and the American way of life. From 1946 to 1950, in response to the Soviet policy towards the United States, the American administration coined the policy of containment of the Soviet Union and the Soviet influence in the world. The policy of containment included both the use of the instruments of hard power and of soft power. At that time, there was a consensus in the American society on the use of political, military and economic means in fighting the Soviet Union, while the use of soft power instruments was a subject of a prolonged public discourse. Government information programs, perceived as propaganda in the United States, have always been a very important soft power instrument, and propaganda has been considered by Americans to be a dishonest activity of autocratic governments. In the period right after the Second World War, the United States implemented legislative, institutional and structural changes that allowed for permanent establishment of the soft power instruments. These foreign policy instruments made it possible for the United States government to diffuse American values, ideas and culture and to wage an ideological war against the Soviet Union and its Marxist principles. The acts adopted at that time are in place nowadays, and provide a legal framework for numerous programs and activities in the realm of soft power.
Die Inhalte der verlinkten Blogs und Blog Beiträge unterliegen in vielen Fällen keiner redaktionellen Kontrolle.
Warnung zur Verfügbarkeit
Eine dauerhafte Verfügbarkeit ist nicht garantiert und liegt vollumfänglich in den Händen der Blogbetreiber:innen. Bitte erstellen Sie sich selbständig eine Kopie falls Sie einen Blog Beitrag zitieren möchten.
Jordan Branch on Google Maps, State Formation, and the International Politics of Cartography
The territorial underpinnings of international politics are as familiar as they are contested within the discipline of International Relations. While the presumed 'territorial trap' of the discipline has been attacked from many sides (see, for instance, Theory Talk #4), Jordan Branch is more interested in turning the question around.
His work has carefully addressed the historical constitutive effects of mapping practices and technologies on the subsequent transformation of practices of, and ideas about, rule and the international system. In this fascinating Talk, Branch, amongst others, discusses the significance of cartography for international politics, explores the effects that contemporary digital mapping might have on political spaces, and illustrates how innovations in mapping impacted on rule with the historical example of France.
Print version of this Talk (pdf)
What is according to your view the most important challenge facing global politics and what is/should be the central debate in the discipline of International Relations (IR)?
While there are many different debates going on at the same time within the discipline, the one that has interested me most is the relationship between ideas and practical or material factors. There is a very simplistic version of this dichotomy that has been debated to death in the constructivist versus rationalists debates, particularly in the American field of IR—an over-drawn distinction, as many have pointed out. I am more interested in actual explanations for the process, outcome, or phenomenon we're looking at. Rather than separating them out, I am interested in how the ideational and material relate to one another, how they fit together.
This relationship poses questions for my specific interest in technological change. We are experiencing fast-paced technological changes—for example, the information technology revolution—which can yield a natural yet incorrect assumption, namely, that this change will inevitably have some kind of major effect on, or interaction with, politics and, specifically, with international relations. This may be true, but it is too often assumed. Indeed, this raises another problem. Even if there is such an effect, is it something we'll be able to observe, let alone predict or explain, as it is happening? From my historical work on the role of maps in state formation, for example, it is quite evident that for people at the time, there was no way to see the impact maps had on the political/spatial/ideational constitution of the state.
The information technology (IT) revolution is the most obvious current example of dramatic technological change. Although it has been playing out for the last 20 or 30 years, it only continues to accelerate. Over the past couple of years, a lot of discussion has focused on 'big data' and what it implies for business, financial analysis, and the like. Of course, it also presents possibilities as a new tool for social science. But there is a danger here. There is a tendency of seeing new technological phenomena only in their material contexts, specifically focusing on possibilities for measurement, for example, thereby neglecting to think about the ideational. How do ideas about collecting and using data actually play into the collection and analysis itself? So while they are in practice always entangled, analytically, I find the distinction between the ideational and the material a very fruitful one, not so much as a debate between opposing fields, but as way to think about technological change.
How did you arrive where you currently are in your thinking about these issues?
It is funny—people often ask this sort of question, and I did not necessarily see a natural trajectory for my thinking or work until I began to look and think back. This interest in connecting technological and political change goes as far back as my undergraduate time at Stanford University, where I initially majored in mechanical engineering, and later switched to International Relations. While technology remained an important preoccupation, I became more interested in politics, history, and theory. So the interest formed into questions about the political implications of phenomena like technology. But this didn't happen instantly. Just before beginning my PhD at the University of California, Berkeley, I was planning to do comparative work on regime change and democratization. Then my older brother (Adam Branch), who is also a political scientist, gave me a copy of Hendrik Spruyt's The Sovereign State and its Competitors (1994), and he said: 'Hey you might like this!' So, I literally read that on a beach the summer before starting grad school—which may sound funny, but I sat down, read it, and found it fascinating. Yet I didn't immediately start thinking about these questions then. It took a year or two, when I started really thinking about what I wanted to work on. I came back to this work and realised these were the kind of questions I was interested in: the origins of the territorial state and its characteristics.
The interest in the state as a concept had been with me for slightly longer. As an undergrad my first introductory course to IR was taught by Stephen Krasner (Theory Talk #21). Krasner has strong views, and the class was very rigorous. A lot of his work focuses on the state and I think his framings influenced me early on. I don't entirely agree with some of Krasner's arguments about sovereignty, but these disagreements are more about the specifics of salient time periods or cases. Other work which influenced me early on was that of John Ruggie on territoriality. Indeed his approach became central as I was developing these questions myself. I also discovered a host of literature in political geography that turned out to be very interesting and useful.
So, one could say that my trajectory was really more focused on understanding the historical outcome of the territorial state than on what role technology, specifically maps, played in this process. The focus on technology, while existent from my engineering days, really began to materialize as a link missing from existing explanations of state formation. I was thinking about how we might be able to find some additional traction on these questions by including technology more prominently. It has certainly been part of some scholarship on state formation, as in Charles Tilly's work or William McNeill's on technological change and warfare. Surely, technology has always been in there, but the discussion has been centered on war fighting technology and maybe on transport, and only to a lesser degree on communication technology in the broader sense.
Another piece of work which triggered my focus on the relationship between the ideational and the material was Ron Deibert's book Parchment, Printing and Hypermedia (1997, read the 1995 PhD thesis that became the book here, pdf). He talks about internet communication technology but also about the printing press and the impact it has on the global distribution of power. Yet, only when I read this book for the second or third time just as I was finishing up my dissertation did I realize how much his framing had shaped how I formulated my thesis. He does touch on the role of mapping, but it is his elaboration on the way in which media informs how people think about the world which was spot on for me. For me, maps as a medium very importantly framed how people thought about and imagined the world in the past—but of course these questions about technology and its role in constituting the international political system, states, territorial boundaries, and so on are still relevant today.
What would a student need to become a specialist in global studies or understand the world in a global way?
I think it is important to be really excited and interested in your topic and what you want to do. The key thing is to enter a grad program that fits you in terms of your interests and to be willing to do whatever methodological training ends up being needed for your research project.
I think there's a tendency to look for a 'one size fits all' graduate training model, which does make sense at the initial level. Everyone should get a certain amount of background in a variety of methods, whether they'll end up using those or not. For example, I have not used quantitative methods in my own research, but I'm glad that I had to take classes on those methods in grad school. They give you the ability to understand work which may connect to your own but comes at it from a different angle. And you should always be open to a variety of methods. The key is to be able to understand a broad array of approaches, otherwise you won't be able to engage in broad conversations.
I also feel I gained a lot from exploring, and reading widely, from other disciplines such as history and sociology. I already mentioned political geography, which is really not too distant but, nonetheless, in the U.S. it sits in a different department. You might think that some work is 'on the other side of the fence' but it is important to be able to bring that work into your thinking.
The final thing is to be open and ready to change your mind, whether it is about the answer you're expecting to get to your question, or even changing the question itself. Obviously there is a certain point when you're almost done with a project where that might not be a good idea…. but if it is early on and it works and you can do it logistically, I think it is important to be willing to do that. Five years later you're going to be a lot better off.
So far, your work has been mainly historical. Can you explain the importance of 'looking back' for understanding contemporary international relations?
I think it is extraordinarily important and useful. A lot of us in this and other fields do see strong connections between today's politics and past events, institutions, and ideas. There is an important notion that we cannot engage meaningfully with the present if we do not understand its genealogy. That is certainly a driver for me in thinking about the origins of the state and territorial boundaries. It may help us to observe patterns we might see replicated or appear in some kind of altered yet recognizable form today. Indeed, it can help us think about where were might be headed.
Although I also hesitate here slightly: always looking to the past for the answers can be problematic. History can help us to observe patterns, dynamics, and maybe relationships that might tell us something about other periods or about contemporary international relations. But we should never do so thinking that the patterns are definitely going to be the same or are deterministic. I think one can look for patterns or relationships without automatically assuming that they have to apply everywhere.
Historical analysis can be problematic in its own right, because there is no way to discover or absorb the past 'as it really was.' All history is some kind of construction, whether it is based on contemporary or historical sources. Additionally, in the social sciences we often have to rely on secondary sources. That is not inherently a problem; this fact just introduces more variables to think about. Pure narrative purporting to capture 'what really happened' can be very problematic.
Given these disclaimers, it is useful to consider the past. I think what should be emphasized is that, specifically at the grad school level, students should be encouraged to dig a little deeper historically. They shouldn't hesitate to do that excavation work.
IR, it has been argued, rests firmly on a spatial or territorial understanding of politics. What constitutive role does territorial space play in IR and is that role based on historical fact or is it myth?
I like that question. I think it is actually both—sort of a myth and sort of a fact. In one sense, territory informs at least the state ideal (i.e., states as we think of them): it informs what the state is, the interests of states, and of course how we distinguish one state from another. And yet, while this is all inherently territorial, we also know that this is far from an accurate description of a lot of regions and places in the world. There are many different spatial ideas, practices, and organizations with political agency that are non-state or non-territorial.
But regarding the myth of state territoriality: I think it is important to point out there is a lot of detail in the 'conventional narrative' of the state, such as timing of when territoriality came about as pinpointed in Westphalia, that has been quite effectively debunked by a number of scholars in the last 10 or 20 years (scholars like Andreas Osiander or Benno Teschke, from different theoretical perspectives). This is a strongly supported finding. But it really hasn't penetrated the mainstream narrative very well. While we can gradually see a little more nuanced discussion in IR textbooks in the U.S., they more often than not will still start with 1648 and Westphalia.
We can now confidently say that states—states as we think of them now—did not appear in 1648, let alone earlier. This is especially true if we look at the specifically territorial or spatial aspects of statehood, which again are so central to how we think about the state internationally. The focus on defending cleanly demarcated linear boundaries and the idea of asserting absolute sovereign authority within those lines; this is really not consolidated until at least the 19th century. So, part of the myth is the timing and the how and why we have states.
But there still is a factual quality to territoriality in this story we tell ourselves about the foundation of the international system and the supposed creation of sovereign states. In a certain setting and for a certain period I think this describes the ideas and practices of international politics quite well. The most obvious example of this is 19th century Europe. While there are still ways in which it diverges from the ideals of the typical state system, in a lot of ways it actually did fit that. This happened at the same time as the development of modern Western historiography, and it was the setting for some of the traditional foundation of political science and IR. So we can see how one shaped the other: history-making and state-making. The singular territorial ideal of statehood from the 19th century has subsequently been applied to other issues, actors, and areas. Even if it does not fit exactly, it is applied today still and it is made to fit retrospectively much earlier periods, where it applied less well.
Ultimately, it is a powerful myth which has informed how we think about international relations to such a degree that we shouldn't just throw it out. Instead, we should think about exactly how it actually informs the way that international relations is understood and practiced. Practitioners and officials don't exactly read IR journals and base their decision-making on our knowledge production, but the basic ideas of states, boundaries, and territory which inform the practice of international relations—as well as the study of it—should be our concern.
You have looked specifically at how mapping has contributed to imagining and formation of the modern state system. Could you elaborate more on how something as technical as cartography matters for international politics?
I've argued in my recent work that early modern mapping technologies were really essential to the consolidation of the territorial state, particularly the specific territorial features of states today. Maps, which have been a popular medium over the past few centuries, really do shape how people understand the world and their place in it. This gets us back to the connection between the material and the ideational.
In early modern Europe a revolution took place, first in mapmaking technologies and, slightly later, in the ideas and practices of political rule, especially as it relates to territory. I argue this was really not a coincidence. How rulers and subjects conceived of rule and how rulers conceived of their realms was really altered as they increasingly used maps that depicted the world in this one particular way. The key characteristics of modern statehood – at least of the ideal of modern statehood – such as linear boundaries between homogenous territorial claims, really appeared first in maps and only subsequently in political practices on the ground. Of course, there were existing authority structures, but these were not particularly spatial or were not spatial in this linear demarcated way. Subsequently, however, these authority structures were ignored or sometimes even actively renounced in favor of the kind of authority which could be literally shown and drawn on a map.
It is interesting because initially, maps were not predominantly produced by rulers, states, or officials. They were certainly involved in sponsoring some mapping projects, buying maps, and using them, but mapmaking was more of a commercial private scientific enterprise, if we can apply the label 'scientific' in the 16th and 17th centuries. These map-makers certainly didn't have any articulated goal of changing politics, at least not on this broad level. They were really concerned with making money, maybe creating art, and advancing what they thought was a growing science of cartography.
We can however see that the map, as a technological artifact—maps as actual things—had an impact on the practices of rule both between rulers and between rulers and their subjects. I argue that this process occurred quite broadly across the European development of the international system at that time. And you can see this sequence really clearly in a case like France.
Let me illustrate that. Here are three maps of 'France' ranging from the 1400s to the 1700s—the quotation marks are necessary because the notion of there being one entity called France across this whole period is more a matter of us labeling it as such rather than it being one recognizable entity.
The first map is from a 15th century manuscript about royal and noble genealogy in France. The image is purported to represent 'all the realm of France' and shows the country as a collection of what I would call places rather than a single linearly demarcated space. You do have the notion of spatial boundaries here, in terms of rivers as means for demarcation. Yet, very clearly, the visual language of this map focuses on towns. And this is how rule was practiced and operationalized as well: negotiations would be over places, or maybe collections of people based on identity, jurisdiction, or where they were allowed to reside, but not in term of linear demarcations between claims.
Now look at the second map, which is just from about 150 years later, from the 1590s. It is from an atlas by a follower of Mercator, and its label Gallia is the Roman designation for France. From our modern perspective we can recognize something that looks a lot like a modern map of France. Maybe even a state, although the boundaries are not exactly like we would expect them to be. But this is the visual language of mapping that we are familiar with: longitude, latitude, spatial expanses colored in, homogenous territorial claims—there is something about the space depicted that argues that it is all the same, that is all France.
And despite this familiarity, it was actually far from an accurate depiction of French rule. Not just in the actual placement of the boundaries, which are contestable, but in the discrete nature of the boundaries themselves. Along these frontiers, so clearly demarcated on this image, the claims of the French king were often unclear and overlapped with those of other rulers. This was even true for the interior of France during this period.
The third map is another 150 years later, from the 1740s. This is from a map showing the triangulation of the realm, undertaken by a group of geographers, known as the Cassini survey, as several generations of the Cassini family headed up this effort. The realm is being mapped explicitly using geometric tools with the important emphasis that the image is actually meant to represent reality. It is understood that way: it's supposed to measure reality, in order to enable the French king to better understand what he rules. Moreover, this mapping took place at the same time that rule was being implemented in practice on the ground in terms of spatial expanses as we think of them, in the form of demarcating boundaries with neighbors which had previously been unclear, overlapping jurisdictions.
Although maps of the second generation (i.e., the map from the 1590s) were 'inaccurate,' they were extremely influential. They were widely distributed and purchased by the elite, both inside and outside of government. Using these maps provided rulers with this particularly new territorial meaning to their centralizing and bureaucratizing efforts. As a consequence, the use of these maps as material tools of governing and negotiation really changed the language of rule. Rule becomes cartographic, at least in part. When two opposing sides come to the negotiation table, for example, they at the very least have already agreed, implicitly, that the division should be a linear boundary—it is just a question of where.
By the time the third map is produced, the government is much more directly involved in map production using accurate geometrical measurement. Yet the very desire for this mapping was shaped by the earlier use of those commercial maps that built up the visual grammar of geometric space. The French case is useful because it is very well documented, but we do see the same sort of process repeated either simultaneously or later throughout Europe and also elsewhere. In fact, there is a lot of interesting scholarship on the introduction of mapping and modern geographic thinking into regions outside the West. Siam Mapped (1994), a book by Thongchai Winichakul, is a fantastic study that I found really useful for my thinking about Europe, even though it deals with Siam (Thailand) in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
This is my story about mapping and territory, but I think there is a broader frame to your question: do we want to bring in these sort of technical factors into explanations in International Relations? And while we don't want to be technologically determinist, there is some useful thinking around technology and its effects we should consider. The impact of maps has been so strong, and yet they are such common artifacts that they are largely conceived of as 'unremarkable' outside of geographic-oriented disciplines.
So can we juxtapose this insight that mapping practices precede the practice of rule and state formation to the anthropological present, that is, what do the contemporary, some say radical, shifts in mapping techniques entail for international politics?
Absolutely. When I initially present my work, there is often an assumption that I use GIS in my study. Instead, my work focuses on analyzing mapping itself—maps as historical artifacts, their effects and their interaction with political identities, interests, and organizations. But I think the ways in which methodology and the subject of study overlap on subjects like technology could potentially contribute to stretching the boundaries of IR. The big data question is both a question of studying what big data means for politics but also how we can use big data to study politics. The way in which new technologies can simultaneously play into our methods and into our answers or questions is a pressing and fascinating issue.
For instance, there has been a lot of back and forth on the question of whether more open-access mapping techniques entail some sort of democratization. While I think we have seen that more participatory forms of mapping are possible, we shouldn't think that this type of mapping is completely open, as no technological system is completely open to anyone and everyone at all times. But, indeed, there is a democratization of mapping under way. Authorship in a whole host of domains, including mapping, is opening up where there used to be a single authoritative voice or at least a single type of authoritative voice. So maps are an example of this opening up and collective authorship. At the same time, accommodating more voices also means that a lot of information is being shared without authority or attribution or what we think of as a legitimate source… When you open a map from Rand McNally or National Geographic, you know that specific cartographers thought this was accurate and you can blame or praise them. But when you open up a layer of Google Earth that has been crowd-sourced you don't know who put that pin there, and you don't know why.
It's really interesting to explore a bit further how this is different from the recent past. In the 19th and first half of the 20th century, mapmaking was essentially state-led. The U.S. geological survey, the Ordnance Survey in Britain, or large mapmaking geographical institutions such as National Geographic represented the owners and producers. Mapping was so technical, so obviously technical that the everyday person would not be able to make a map to Rand McNally's standards. This has changed, and quite importantly so. Not only do we have the technology to do this, people are aware that they can use it as easily as opening a smartphone app, thereby incorporating more points of view. This is not necessarily good or bad. Politically, it does open up new possibilities. Maps have always been political, both implicitly and explicitly. It certainly opens up the possibility of some kind of broader shift in ideas about territory. Let me illustrate with an example. I haven't necessarily come across specific maps that present some completely novel visual grammar potentially reshaping the way we think about the world. But, an interesting example I like to bring to my students: there was a September 2011blog post on Google's Lat-Long blog (which is the company's blog about Google Maps and Google Earth). Its headline read: 'South Sudan is now official on Google Maps,' and it displayed a screenshot of the new boundary.
They changed their base layer by adding a boundary between South Sudan and Sudan. This of course followed the referendum and the UN's recognition, and all the traditional precursors to official statehood. South Sudan became a recognizable entity on that blog. Google Earth, a non-governmental actor, indeed a huge corporate actor—and thus not necessarily democratizing—becomes part of the discourse of declaring South Sudan's official existence.
This is an example of how things might be going. Interestingly, the whole enterprise of mapping today actually resembles more closely that of the 16th and early 17th centuries then that of the 19th or early 20th century, not technologically but organizationally. The state-centric view of the world was enforced by the state-authored mappings of the 19th and 20th centuries. Now, by contrast, there is a kind of shared or unclear authorship, there is crowdsourcing, there are multiple sources of conflicting and quite openly unreliable or uncertain information. This environment of rapidly increasing distribution and use also describes the creation of the early atlases in the late 16th century and early 17th centuries, which involved the collation of all kinds of information from multiple sources.
And of course it was in the 16th and 17th century when this sort of non-state-controlled mapping presented innovative images of the world—those images that ended up shaping and consolidating the state form of territory. And so it was these new tools for understanding and acting on the world which gave the state its territorial shape. As key information-producing activities are being opened up, some forms of power are being redistributed. This certainly means that we need to widen our scope in terms of whom we consider to be a stakeholder or what sort of actors we want to study. We know that the dichotomy of state versus non-state is not sufficient. We need to be subtler in our inquiries. In IR, of course, the stereotypical over-emphasis on states is being questioned, and this is really just one more sign that a piece of the power of the state, in this case map-production and distribution, is shifting elsewhere.
I recently had a conversation with students in my undergrad seminar on technology and international politics. I went into it saying: 'Hey, all this mobile mapping and GPS and Google Earth is totally revolutionary. This may change how we think about the world.' And they were all completely unconvinced, since they use these technologies all the time—to a bunch of twenty-year-olds these tools seem unremarkable. And maybe that is actually a more accurate analysis. But it is interesting how it is such a different analysis from that of my generation and anyone older, all of us who have spent a lot of time, for example, driving around without GPS. It is partly this perception and the 'unthinking usage' which make the relationship between technologies and social and political outcomes so difficult to observe. Our ideas may be changed, and especially the ideas of younger generations may be changed, without anyone particularly noticing how dramatic the changes might be. This also means that the connections, because they are 'unthinking,' can be quite foundational to people's ideas of social identities or political practices. They are tacit and embodied. That makes it both hard to observe but also an interesting puzzle. But it is worthwhile mentioning that the images presented by Google Maps and other digital mapping tools, particularly satellite imagery, might carry a greater legitimacy in terms of depicting 'the truth'. It looks like a picture of the world and therefore whatever is on it, even layered on data (like a new international boundary), must be true. It represents another apex of the scientific trajectory of mapping.
If it is just about adding a data layer on a base map that remains the same, does that then mean that ontologically this kind of mapping technology actually doesn't challenge territoriality?
That gets to an interesting point, which entangles with a lot of the more careful discussions of globalization and the state. One version of that is that the state is not dying, is not being destroyed. It is just that other things are being layered on top of it, and the state and its boundaries still remain and still matter for certain things. In this case, maps are perfectly capable of showing state boundaries—they look very fixed, very strong—but one can layer on top other types of information, maybe transactional flows or particular places that are connected in different ways.
I think that could be an interesting argument: these new mapping tools can really show so much, and it is matter of selecting what you want to show and unselecting things you don't want to show. Thus they don't do anything to undermine one particular view of the world. Now that is not necessarily a good or bad thing. If we look at the history of mapping and the origins of state territoriality, a key part of that was that it was really hard to depict medieval jurisdictional and personal notions of rule on early modern maps. Printing technology and mapping tools prescribed depiction in a certain way—drawing lines and coloring in spaces. Maps made it harder to show and thus think about the other forms of rule. If digital maps are still perfectly capable of showing states and their boundaries, they may do very little to undermine that notion of territory.
Finally, if we are interested in the politics of maps, to what extent do we need to study not only the maps as political artifacts but the mapmakers as political actors as well?
I think it is extremely useful to do both, and obviously if we study mapping today, we can do both. In terms of historical work, we can only rely on very limited sources, such as what mapmakers themselves wrote about what they were doing. We don't know a lot about their goals or ideas about politics. I would have loved to have been able to read exhaustive memoirs by mapmakers such as Ortelius and Mercator. Of course, they might not have said anything about the questions we are interested in. On the other hand, a lot of map-makers today are involved in mapping for explicit political reasons: for example, Ushahidi-type collaborative mapping (www.ushahidi.com), or humanitarian and relief mapping. Here we can dig into the question of how the maps produced relate to specific objectives. That is a great way to get more analytical leverage on a lot of these questions.
Jordan Branch joined the Political Science department at Brown as an Assistant Professor in summer 2012. He received his PhD in Political Science at UC-Berkeley in 2011, and spent 2011-2012 as the Hayward R. Alker Postdoctoral Fellow at the Center for International Studies at the University of Southern California. His interests include international relations theory, the history of the sovereign state system, contemporary challenges to statehood, and the intersection of technological and political change. In 2014, Cambridge University Press published his book, The Cartographic State: Maps, Territory, and the Origins of Sovereignty. His research has also appeared in International Organization and the European Journal of International Relations.
Related links
Faculty profile at Brown University Read Branch's Mapping the Sovereign State: Technology, Authority, and Systemic Change (International Organization 2011) here (pdf) Read Branch's Colonial Reflection' and Territoriality: The Peripheral Origins of Sovereign Statehood (European Journal of International Relations, 2012) here (pdf)
Print version of this Talk (pdf)
0 0 1 5331 30391 School of Global Studies, University of Gothenburg 253 71 35651 14.0
Die Inhalte der verlinkten Blogs und Blog Beiträge unterliegen in vielen Fällen keiner redaktionellen Kontrolle.
Warnung zur Verfügbarkeit
Eine dauerhafte Verfügbarkeit ist nicht garantiert und liegt vollumfänglich in den Händen der Blogbetreiber:innen. Bitte erstellen Sie sich selbständig eine Kopie falls Sie einen Blog Beitrag zitieren möchten.
Alexander Dugin on Eurasianism, the Geopolitics of Land and Sea, and a Russian Theory of Multipolarity
IR has long been regarded as an Anglo-American social science. Recently, the discipline has started to look beyond America and England, to China (Theory Talk #51, Theory Talk #45), India (Theory Talk #63, Theory Talk #42), Africa (Theory Talk #57, Theory Talk #10) and elsewhere for non-Western perspectives on international affairs and IR theory. However, IR theorists have paid little attention to Russian perspectives on the discipline and practice of international relations. We offer an exciting peek into Russian geopolitical theory through an interview with the controversial Russian geopolitical thinker Alexander Dugin, founder of the International Eurasian Movement and allegedly an important influence on Putin's foreign policy. In this Talk, Dugin—among others—discusses his Theory of a Multipolar World, offers a staunch critique of western and liberal IR, and lays out Russia's unique contribution to the landscape of IR theory.
Print version of this Talk (pdf) Russian version
What, according to you, is the central challenge or principle debate within IR and what would be your position within this debate or towards that challenge?
The field of IR is extremely interesting and multidimensional. In general, the discipline is much more promising than many think. I think that there is a stereometry today in IR, in which we can distinguish a few axes right away.
The first, most traditional axis is realism – the English school – liberalism.
If the debates here are exhausted on an academic level, then on the level of politicians, the media, and journalists, all the arguments and methods appear new and unprecedented each time. Today, liberalism in IR dominates mass consciousness, and realist arguments, already partially forgotten on the level of mass discourse, could seem rather novel. On the other hand, the nuanced English school, researched thoroughly in academic circles, might look like a "revelation" to the general public. But for this to happen, a broad illumination of the symmetry between liberals and realists is needed for the English school to acquire significance and disclose its full potential. This is impossible under the radical domination of liberalism in IR. For that reason, I predict a new wave of realists and neorealists in this sphere, who, being pretty much forgotten and almost marginalized, can full well make themselves and their agenda known. This would, it seems to me, produce a vitalizing effect and diversify the palette of mass and social debates, which are today becoming monotone and auto-referential.
The second axis is bourgeois versions of IR (realism, the English school, and liberalism all together) vs. Marxism in IR. In popular and even academic discourse, this theme is entirely discarded, although the popularity of Wallerstein (Theory Talk #13) and other versions of world-systems theory shows a degree of interest in this critical version of classical, positivistic IR theories.
The third axis is post-positivism in all its varieties vs. positivism in all its varieties (including Marxism). IR scholars might have gotten the impression that postmodern attacks came to an end, having been successfully repelled by 'critical realism', but in my opinion it is not at all so. From moderate constructivism and normativism to extreme post-structuralism, post-positivistic theories carry a colossal deconstructive and correspondingly scientific potential, which has not yet even begun to be understood. It seemed to some that postmodernism is a cheerful game. It isn't. It is a new post-ontology, and it fundamentally affects the entire epistemological structure of IR. In my opinion, this axis remains very important and fundamental.
The fourth axis is the challenge of the sociology of international relations, which we can call 'Hobson's challenge'. In my opinion, in his critique of euro-centrism in IR, John M. Hobson laid the foundation for an entirely new approach to the whole problematic by proposing to consider the structural significance of the "euro-centric" factor as dominant and clarifying its racist element. Once we make euro-centrism a variable and move away from the universalistic racism of the West, on which all systems of IR are built, including the majority of post-positivistic systems (after all, postmodernity is an exclusively Western phenomenon!), we get, theoretically for now, an entirely different discipline—and not just one, it seems. If we take into account differences among cultures, there can be as many systems of IR as there are cultures. I consider this axis extremely important.
The fifth axis, outlined in less detail than the previous one, is the Theory of a Multipolar World vs. everything else. The Theory of a Multipolar World was developed in Russia, a country that no one ever took seriously during the entire establishment of IR as a discipline—hence the fully explainable skepticism toward the Theory of a Multipolar World.
The sixth axis is IR vs. geopolitics. Geopolitics is usually regarded as secondary in the context of IR. But gradually, the epistemological potential of geopolitics is becoming more and more obvious, despite or perhaps partially because of the criticism against it. We have only to ask ourselves about the structure of any geopolitical concept to discover the huge potential contained in its methodology, which takes us to the very complex and semantically saturated theme of the philosophy and ontology of space.
If we now superimpose these axes onto one another, we get an extremely complex and highly interesting theoretical field. At the same time, only one axis, the first one, is considered normative among the public, and that with the almost total and uni-dimensional dominance of IR liberalism. All the wealth, 'scientific democracy', and gnoseological pluralism of the other axes are inaccessible to the broad public, robbing and partly deceiving it. I call this domination of liberalism among the public the 'third totalitarianism', but that is a separate issue.
How did you arrive at where you currently are in your thinking about IR?
I began with Eurasianism, from which I came to geopolitics (the Eurasianist Petr Savitskii quoted the British geopolitician Halford Mackinder) and remained for a long time in that framework, developing the theme of the dualism of Land and Sea and applying it to the actual situation That is how the Eurasian school of geopolitics arose, which became not simply the dominant, but the only school in contemporary Russia. As a professor at Moscow State University, for six years I was head of the department of the Sociology of International Relations, which forced me to become professionally familiar with the classical theories of IR, the main authors, approaches, and schools. Because I have long been interested in postmodernism in philosophy (I wrote the book Post-philosophy on the subject), I paid special attention to post-positivism in IR. That is how I came to IR critical theory, neo-Gramscianism, and the sociology of IR (John Hobson, Steve Hobden, etc.). I came to the Theory of a Multipolar World, which I eventually developed myself, precisely through superimposing geopolitical dualism, Carl Schmitt's theory of the Grossraum, and John Hobson's critique of Western racism and the euro-centrism of IR.
In your opinion, what would a student need in order to become a specialist in IR?
In our interdisciplinary time, I think that what is most important is familiarity with philosophy and sociology, led by a paradigmatic method: the analysis of the types of societies, cultures, and structures of thought along the line Pre-Modernity – Modernity – Post-Modernity. If one learns to trace semantic shifts in these three epistemological and ontological domains, it will help one to become familiar with any popular theories of IR today. Barry Buzan's (Theory Talk #35) theory of international systems is an example of such a generalizing and very useful schematization. Today an IR specialist must certainly be familiar with deconstruction and use it at least in its elementary form. Otherwise, there is a great danger of overlooking what is most important.
Another very important competence is history and political science. Political science provides generalizing, simplifying material, and history puts schemas in their context. I would only put competence in the domain of economics and political economy in third place, although today no problem in IR can be considered without reference to the economic significance of processes and interactions. Finally, I would earnestly recommend to students of IR to become familiar, as a priority, with geopolitics and its methods. These methods are much simpler than theories of IR, but their significance is much deeper. At first, geopolitical simplifications produce an instantaneous effect: complex and entangled processes of world politics are rendered transparent and comprehensible in the blink of an eye. But to sort out how this effect is achieved, a long and serious study of geopolitics is required, exceeding by far the superficiality that limits critical geopolitics (Ó Tuathail et. al.): they stand at the beginning of the decipherment of geopolitics and its full-fledged deconstruction, but they regard themselves as its champions. They do so prematurely.
What does it entail to think of global power relations through a spatial lens ('Myslit prostranstvom')?
This is the most important thing. The entire philosophical theme of Modernity is built on the dominance of time. Kant already puts time on the side of the subject (and space on the side of the body, continuing the ideas of Descartes and even Plato), while Husserl and Heidegger identify the subject with time altogether. Modernity thinks with time, with becoming. But since the past and future are rejected as ontological entities, thought of time is transformed into thought of the instant, of that which is here and now. This is the basis for the ephemeral understanding of being. To think spatially means to locate Being outside the present, to arrange it in space, to give space an ontological status. Whatever was impressed in space is preserved in it. Whatever will ripen in space is already contained in it. This is the basis for the political geography of Friedrich Ratzel and subsequent geopoliticians. Wagner's Parsifal ends with the words of Gurnemanz: 'now time has become space'. This is a proclamation of the triumph of geopolitics. To think spatially means to think in an entirely different way [topika]. I think that postmodernity has already partly arrived at this perspective, but has stopped at the threshold, whereas to cross the line it is necessary to break radically with the entire axiomatic of Modernity, to really step over Modernity, and not to imitate this passage while remaining in Modernity and its tempolatry. Russian people are spaces [Russkie lyudi prostranstva], which is why we have so much of it. The secret of Russian identity is concealed in space. To think spatially means to think 'Russian-ly', in Russian.
Geopolitics is argued to be very popular in Russia nowadays. Is geopolitics a new thing, from the post-Cold War period, or not? And if not, how does current geopolitical thinking differ from earlier Soviet (or even pre-soviet) geopolitics?
It is an entirely new form of political thought. I introduced geopolitics to Russia at the end of the 80s, and since then it has become extremely popular. I tried to find some traces of geopolitics in Russian history, but besides Vandam, Semyonov-Tyan-Shansky, and a few short articles by Savitskii, there was nothing. In the USSR, any allusion to geopolitics was punished in the harshest way (see the 'affair of the geopoliticians' of the economic geographer Vladimir Eduardovich Den and his group). At the start of the 90s, my efforts and the efforts of my followers and associates in geopolitics (=Eurasianism) filled the worldview vacuum that formed after the end of Soviet ideology. At first, this was adopted without reserve by the military (The Military Academy of the General Staff of the Armed Forces of Russia), especially under Igor Rodionov. Then, geopolitics began to penetrate into all social strata. Today, this discipline is taught in the majority of Russian universities. So, there was no Soviet or pre-Soviet geopolitics. There is only the contemporary Eurasian school, which took shape at the end of the 80s. Foundations of Geopolitics was the first programmatic text of this school, although I had published most of texts in that book earlier, and some of them were circulated as texts in government circles. Recently, in 2012, I released two new textbooks: Geopolitics and The Geopolitics of Russia, which together with The War of Continents are the results of work in this field, along four axes.
In your book International Relations, not yet published in English, you set out your Theory of a Multipolar World as a distinct IR theory. What are the basic components of the Theory of a Multipolar World—and how is it different from classical realism?
In order to be understood and not get into the details, I can say that the Theory of a Multipolar World seriously and axiomatically adopts Samuel Huntington's thesis about the plurality of civilizations. Russia has its own author, who claimed the same thing more than a hundred years ago: Nikolay Danilevsky, and then the Eurasianists. However, everything starts from precisely this point: civilization is not one, but many. Western civilization's pretension to universalism is a form of the will to domination and an authoritarian discourse. It can be taken into account but not believed. It is nothing other than a strategy of suppression and hegemony. The following point follows: we must move from thinking in terms of one civilization (the racism of euro-centric versions of IR) to a pluralism of subjects. However, unlike realists, who take as the subject of their theory nation-states, which are themselves products of the European, bourgeois, modern understanding of the Political, the Theory of a Multipolar World proposes to take civilizations as subjects. Not states, but civilizations. I call them 'large politeiai', or civilizations, corresponding to Carl Schmitt's 'large spaces'. As soon as we take these civilizations—'large politeiai'—as subjects, we can then apply to them the full system of premises of realism: anarchy in the international system, sovereignty, the rationality of egoistic behavior, etc. But within these 'politeiai', by contrast, a principle more resembling liberalism, with its pacifism and integration, operates, only with the difference that here we are not talking about a 'planetary' or 'global' world, but about an intra-civilizational one; not about global integration, but about regional integration, strictly within the context of civilizational borders. Post-positivism, in turn, helps here for the deconstruction of the authoritarian discourse of the West, which masks its private interests by 'universal values', and also for the reconstruction of civilizational identity, including with the help of technological means: civilizational elites, civilizational media, civilizational economic algorithms and corporations, etc. That is the general picture.
Your theory of multipolarity is directed against the intellectual, political, and social hegemony of the West. At the same time, while drawing on the tools of neo-Marxist analysis and critical theory, it does not oppose Western hegemony 'from the left', as those approaches do, but on the basis of traditionalism (Rene Guenon, Julius Evola), cultural anthropology, and Heideggerian phenomenology, or 'from the right'. Do you think that such an approach can appeal to Anglo-American IR practitioners, or is it designed to appeal mainly to non-Western theorists and practitioners? In short, what can IR theorists in the West learn from the theory of multipolarity?
According to Hobson's entirely correct analysis, the West is based on a fundamental sort of racism. There is no difference between Lewis Morgan's evolutionistic racism (with his model of savagery, barbarism, civilization) and Hitler's biological racism. Today the same racism is asserted without a link to race, but on the basis of the technological modes and degrees of modernization and progress of societies (as always, the criterion "like in the West" is the general measure). Western man is a complete racist down to his bones, generalizing his ethnocentrism to megalomaniacal proportions. Something tells me that he is impossible to change. Even radical critiques of Western hegemony are themselves deeply infected by the racist virus of universalism, as Edward Said showed with the example of 'orientalism', proving that the anticolonial struggle is a form of that very colonialism and euro-centrism. So the Theory of a Multipolar World will hardly find adherents in the Western world, unless perhaps among those scholars who are seriously able to carry out a deconstruction of Western identity, and such deconstruction assumes the rejection of both Right (nationalistic) and Left (universalistic and progressivist) clichés. The racism of the West always acquires diverse forms. Today its main form is liberalism, and anti-liberal theories (most on the Left) are plagued by the same universalism, while Right anti-liberalisms have been discredited. That is why I appeal not to the first political theory (liberalism), nor the second (communism, socialism), nor to the third (fascism, Nazism), but to something I call the Fourth Political Theory (or 4PT), based on a radical deconstruction of the subject of Modernity and the application of Martin Heidegger's existential analytic method.
Traditionalists are brought in for the profound critique of Western Modernity, for establishing the plurality of civilizations, and for rehabilitating non-Western (pre-modern) cultures. In Russia and Asian countries, the Theory of a Multipolar World is grasped easily and naturally; in the West, it encounters a fully understandable and fully expected hostility, an unwillingness to study it carefully, and coarse slander. But there are always exceptions.
What is the Fourth Political Theory (4PT) and how is it related to the Theory of a Multipolar World and to your criticism of the prevailing theoretical approaches in the field of IR?
I spoke a little about this in the response to the previous question. The Fourth Political Theory is important for getting away from the strict dominance of modernity in the sphere of the Political, for the relativization of the West and its re-regionalization. The West measures the entire history of Modernity in terms of the struggle of three political ideologies for supremacy (liberalism, socialism, and nationalism). But since the West does not even for a moment call into question the fact that it thinks for all humanity, it evaluates other cultures and civilizations in the same way, without considering that in the best case the parallels to these three ideologies are pure simulacra, while most often there simply are no parallels. If liberalism won the competition of the three ideologies in the West at the end of the 20th century, that does not yet mean that this ideology is really universal on a world scale. It isn't at all. This episode of the Western political history of modernity may be the fate of the West, but not the fate of the world. So other principles of the political are needed, beyond liberalism, which claims global domination (=the third totalitarianism), and its failed alternatives (communism and fascism), which are historically just as Western and modern as liberalism. This explains the necessity of introducing a Fourth Political Theory as a political frame for the correct basis of a Theory of a Multipolar World. The Fourth Political Theory is the direct and necessary correlate of the Theory of a Multipolar World in the domain of political theory.
Is IR an American social science? Is Russian IR as an academic field a reproduction of IR as an American academic field? If not, how is IR in Russia specifically Russian?
IR is a Western scientific discipline, and as such it has a prescriptive, normative vector. It not only studies the West's dominance, it also produces, secures, defends, and propagandizes it. IR is undoubtedly an imperious authoritarian discourse of Western civilization, in relation to itself and all other areas of the planet. Today the US is the core of the West, so naturally in the 20th century IR became more and more American as the US moved toward that status (it began as an English science). It is the same with geopolitics, which migrated from London to Washington and New York together with the function of a global naval Empire. As with all other sciences, IR is a form of imperious violence, embodying the will to power in the will to knowledge (as Michel Foucault explained). IR in Russia remains purely Western, with one detail: in the USSR, IR as such was not studied. Marxism in IR did not correspond to Soviet reality, where after Stalin a practical form of realism (not grounded theoretically and never acknowledged) played a big role—only external observers, like the classical realist E.H. Carr, understood the realist essence of Stalinism in IR. So IR was altogether blocked. The first textbooks started to appear only in the 90s and in the fashion of the day they were all liberal. That is how it has remained until now. The peculiarity of IR in Russia today lies in the fact that there is no longer anything Russian there; liberalism dominates entirely, a correct account of realism is lacking, and post-positivism is almost entirely disregarded. The result is a truncated, aggressively liberal and extremely antiquated version of IR as a discipline. I try to fight that. I recently released an IR textbook with balanced (I hope) proportions, but it is too early to judge the result.
Stephen Walt argued in a September article in Foreign Policy that Russia 'is nowhere near as threatening as the old Soviet Union', in part because Russia 'no longer boasts an ideology that can rally supporters worldwide'. Do you agree with Walt's assessment?
There is something to that. Today, Russia thinks of itself as a nation-state. Putin is a realist; nothing more. Walt is right about that. But the Theory of a Multipolar World and the Fourth Political Theory, as well as Eurasianism, are outlines of a much broader and large-scale ideology, directed against Western hegemony and challenging liberalism, globalization, and American strategic dominance. Of course, Russia as a nation-state is no competition for the West. But as the bridgehead of the Theory of a Multipolar World and the Fourth Political Theory, it changes its significance. Russian policies in the post-Soviet space and Russia's courage in forming non-Western alliances are indicators. For now, Putin is testing this conceptual potential very gingerly. But the toughening of relations with the West and most likely the internal crises of globalization will at some point force a more careful and serious turn toward the creation of global alternative alliances. Nevertheless, we already observe such unions: The Shanghai Cooperation Organization, BRICS, the Eurasian Union—and they require a new ideology. Not one like Marxism, any universalism is excluded, but also not simple realist maneuvers of regional hegemons. Liberalism is a global challenge. The response to it should also be global. Does Putin understand this? Honestly, I don't know. Sometimes it seems he does, and sometimes it seems he doesn't.
Vladimir Putin recently characterized the contemporary world order as follows: 'We have entered a period of differing interpretations and deliberate silences in world politics. International law has been forced to retreat over and over by the onslaught of legal nihilism. Objectivity and justice have been sacrificed on the altar of political expediency. Arbitrary interpretations and biased assessments have replaced legal norms. At the same time, total control of the global mass media has made it possible when desired to portray white as black and black as white'. Do you agree with this assessment? If so, what is required as a response to this international situation?
These are true, but rather naïve words. Putin is just indignant that the West establishes rules in its own interests, changes them when necessary, and interprets allegedly 'universal norms' in its own favor. But the issue is that this is the structure of the will to power and the very organization of logo-phallo-phono-centric discourse. Objectivity and justice are not possible so long as speech is a monologue. The West does not know and does not recognize the other. But this means that everything will continue until this other wins back the right to recognition. And that is a long road. The point of the Theory of a Multipolar World is that there are no rules established by some one player. Rules must be established by centers of real power. The state today is too small for that; hence the conclusion that civilizations should be these centers. Let there be an Atlantic objectivity and Western justice. A Eurasian objectivity and Russian justice will counter them. And the Chinese world or Pax Sinica [world/peace: same word in Russian] will look different than the Islamic one. Black and white are not objective evaluations. They depend on the structure of the world order: what is black and what is white is determined by one who has enough power to determine it.
How does your approach help us understand Russia's actions on the world stage better than other IR approaches do? What are IR analyses of Russia missing that do not operate with the conceptual apparatus of multipolarity?
Interesting question. Russia's behavior internationally is determined today by the following factors:
First, historical inertia, accumulating the power of precedents (the Theory of a Multipolar World thinks that the past exists as a structure; consequently, this factor is taken into account from many sides and in detail, while the 'tempocentrism' (Steve Hobden, John Hobson) of classical IR theories drops this from sight. We have to pay attention to this especially taking into consideration the fact that Russia is in many ways still a traditional society and belongs to the 'imperial system' of IR.) There are, besides, Soviet inertia and stable motives ('Stalinism in IR');
Second, the projective logic of opposition to the West, stemming from the most practical, pragmatic, and realist motivations (in the spirit of Caesarism, analyzed by neo-Gramscians) will necessarily lead Russia (even despite the will of its leaders) to a systemic confrontation with American hegemony and globalization, and then the Theory of a Multipolar World will really be needed (classical IR models, paying no attention to the Theory of a Multipolar World, drop from sight the possible future; i.e., they rob themselves of predictive potential because of purely ideological prejudices and self-imposed fears).
But if an opponent underestimates you, you have more chances to land an unexpected blow. So I am not too disturbed by the underestimation of the Theory of a Multipolar World among IR theorists.
In the western world, the divide between academia and policy is often either lamented ('ivory tower') or, in light of the ideal of academic independence, deemed absent. This concerns a broader debate regarding the relations between power, knowledge and geopolitics. How are academic-policy relations in Russia with regards to IR and is this the ideal picture according to you?
I think that in our case both positions have been taken to their extreme. On one hand, today's authorities in Russia do not pay the slightest attention to scholars, dispatching them to an airless and sterile space. On the other hand, Soviet habits became the basis for servility and conformism, preserved in a situation when the authorities for the first time demand nothing from intellectuals, except for one thing: that they not meddle in socio-political processes. So the situation with science is both comical and sorrowful. Conformist scholars follow the authorities, but the authorities don't need this, since they do not so much go anywhere in particular as react to facts that carry themselves out.
If your IR theory isn't based on politically and philosophically liberal principles, and if it criticizes those principles not from the left but from the right, using the language of large spaces or Grossraum, is it a fascist theory of international relations? Are scholars who characterize your thought as 'neo-fascism', like Andreas Umland and Anton Shekhovstov, partially correct? If not, why is that characterization misleading?
Accusations of fascism are simply a figure of speech in the coarse political propaganda peculiar to contemporary liberalism as the third totalitarianism. Karl Popper laid the basis for this in his book The Open Society and its Enemies, where he reduced the critique of liberalism from the right to fascism, Hitler, and Auschwitz, and the criticism of liberalism from the left to Stalin and the GULAG. The reality is somewhat more complex, but George Soros, who finances Umland and Shekhovstov and is an ardent follower of Popper, is content with reduced versions of politics. If I were a fascist, I would say so. But I am a representative of Eurasianism and the author of the Fourth Political Theory. At the same time, I am a consistent and radical anti-racist and opponent of the nation-state project (i.e. an anti-nationalist). Eurasianism has no relation to fascism. And the Fourth Political Theory emphasizes that while it is anti-liberal, it is simultaneously anti-communist and anti-fascist. I think it isn't possible to be clearer, but the propaganda army of the 'third totalitarianism' disagrees and no arguments will convince it. 1984 should be sought today not where many think: not in the USSR, not in the Third Reich, but in the Soros Fund and the 'Brave New World'. Incidentally, Huxley proved to be more correct than Orwell. I cannot forbid others from calling me a fascist, although I am not one, though ultimately this reflects badly not so much on me as on the accusers themselves: fighting an imaginary threat, the accuser misses a real one. The more stupid, mendacious, and straightforward a liberal is, the simpler it is to fight with him.
Does technological change in warfare and in civil government challenge the geopolitical premises of classical divisions between spaces (Mackinder's view or Spykman's) heartland-rimland-offshore continents)? And, more broadly perhaps, does history have a linear or a cyclical pattern, according to you?
Technological development does not at all abolish the principles of classical geopolitics, simply because Land and Sea are not substances, but concepts. Land is a centripetal model of order, with a clearly expressed and constant axis. Sea is a field, without a hard center, of processuality, atomism, and the possibility of numerous bifurcations. In a certain sense, air (and hence also aviation) is aeronautics. And even the word astronaut contains in itself the root 'nautos', from the Greek word for ship. Water, air, outer space—these are all versions of increasingly diffused Sea. Land in this situation remains unchanged. Sea strategy is diversified; land strategy remains on the whole constant. It is possible that this is the reason for the victory of Land over Sea in the last decade; after all, capitalism and technical progress are typical attributes of Sea. But taking into consideration the fundamental character of the balance between Leviathan and Behemoth, the proportions can switch at any moment; the soaring Titan can be thrown down into the abyss, like Atlantis, while the reason for the victory of thalassocracy becomes the source of its downfall. Land remains unchanged as the geographic axis of history. There is Land and Sea even on the internet and in the virtual world: they are axes and algorithms of thematization, association and separation, groupings of resources and protocols. The Chinese internet is terrestrial; the Western one, nautical.
You have translated a great number of foreign philosophical and geopolitical works into Russian. How important is knowledge transaction for the formation of your ideas?
I recently completed the first release of my book Noomachy, which is entirely devoted precisely to the Logoi of various civilizations, and hence to the circulation of ideas. I am convinced that each civilization has its own particular Logos. To grasp it and to find parallels, analogies, and dissonances in one's own Logos is utterly fascinating and interesting. That is why I am sincerely interested in the most varied cultures, from North American to Australian, Arabic to Latin American, Polynesian to Scandinavian. All the Logoi are different and it is not possible to establish a hierarchy among them. So it remains for us only to become familiar with them. Henry Corbin, the French philosopher and Protestant who studied Iranian Shiism his entire life, said of himself 'We are Shiites'. He wasn't a Shiite in the religious sense, but without feeling himself a Shiite, he would not be able to penetrate into the depths of the Iranian Logos. That is how I felt, working on Noomachy or translating philosophical texts or poetry from other languages: in particular, while learning Pierce and James, Emerson and Thoreau, Poe and Pound I experienced myself as 'we are Americans'. And in the volume devoted to China and Japan, as 'we are Buddhists'. That is the greatest wealth of the Logos of various cultures: both those like ours and those entirely unlike ours. And these Logoi are at war; hence, Noomachy, the war of the intellect. It is not linear and not primitive. It is a great war. It creates that which we call the 'human', the entire depth and complexity of which we most often underestimate.
Final question. You call yourself the 'last philosopher of empire'. What is Eurasanism and how does it relate to the global pivot of power distributions?
Eurasianism is a developed worldview, to which I dedicated a few books and a countless number of articles and interviews. In principle, it lies at the basis of the Theory of a Multipolar World and the Fourth Political Theory, combined with geopolitics, and it resonates with Traditionalism. Eurasianism's main thought is plural anthropology, the rejection of universalism. The meaning of Empire for me is that there exists not one Empire, but at minimum two, and even more. In the same way, civilization is never singular; there is always some other civilization that determines its borders. Schmitt called this the Pluriverse and considered it the main characteristic of the Political. The Eurasian Empire is the political and strategic unification of Turan, a geographic axis of history in opposition to the civilization of the Sea or the Atlanticist Empire. Today, the USA is this Atlanticist Empire. Kenneth Waltz, in the context of neorealism in IR, conceptualized the balance of two poles. The analysis is very accurate, although he erred about the stability of a bipolar world and the duration of the USSR. But on the whole he is right: there is a global balance of Empires in the world, not nation-States, the majority of which cannot claim sovereignty, which remains nominal (Stephen Krasner's (Theory Talk #21) 'global hypocrisy'). For precisely that reason, I am a philosopher of Empire, as is almost every American intellectual, whether he knows it or not. The difference is only that he thinks of himself as a philosopher of the only Empire, while I think of myself as the philosopher of one of the Empires, the Eurasian one. I am more humble and more democratic. That is the whole difference.
Alexander Dugin is a Russian philosopher, the author of over thirty books on topics including the sociology of the imagination, structural sociology, ethnosociology, geopolitical theory, international relations theory, and political theory, including four books on the German philosopher Martin Heidegger. His most recent books, only available in Russian at the moment, are Ukraine: My War and the multi-volume Noomachia: Wars of the Intellect. Books translated into English include The Fourth Political Theory, Putin vs. Putin: Vladimir Putin Viewed From the Right, and Martin Heidegger: The Philosophy of Another Beginning.
Related links
Who is Alexander Dugin? Interview with Theory Talks editor Michael Millerman (YouTube) TheFourth Political Theory website (English): Evrazia.tv (Russian) Evrazia.tv (English) Geopolitics.ru (English version) InternationalEurasian Movement (English version) Centerfor Conservative Studies (Russian)
Die Inhalte der verlinkten Blogs und Blog Beiträge unterliegen in vielen Fällen keiner redaktionellen Kontrolle.
Warnung zur Verfügbarkeit
Eine dauerhafte Verfügbarkeit ist nicht garantiert und liegt vollumfänglich in den Händen der Blogbetreiber:innen. Bitte erstellen Sie sich selbständig eine Kopie falls Sie einen Blog Beitrag zitieren möchten.
Eyal Weizman on the Architectural-Image Complex, Forensic Archeology and Policing across the Desertification Line
Incidents in global politics are usually apprehended as the patterned interaction of macro-actors such as states. Eyal Weizman takes a different tack—an architect by training, Weizman tackles incidents through detailed readings of heterogeneous materials—digital images, debris, reforestation, blast patterns in ruins—to piece together concrete positions of engagement in specific legal, political, or activist controversies in global politics. In this Talk, Weizman—among others—elaborates on methods across scales and material territories, discusses the interactions of environment and politics, and traces his trajectory in forensic architecture.
Print version of this Talk (pdf)
What is—or should be—according to you, the biggest challenge, central focus or principal debate in critical social sciences?
We live in an age in which there is both a great storm of information and a progressive form of activism seeking to generate transparency in relation to government institutions, corporations or secret services. These forms of exposure exponentially increase the number of primary sources on corporations and state and provide also rare media from war zones, but this by itself does not add more clarity. It could increase confusion and increasingly be used disseminate false information and propaganda. The challenge is to start another process to carefully piece together and compose this information.
I'm concerned with research about armed conflict. Contemporary conflict tends to take place in urban environments saturated with media of varicose sorts, whenever violence is brought into a city, it provokes an enormous production of images, clips, sounds, text, etc.
As conflict in Iraq, Syria, Missouri and the Ukraine demonstrate, one of the most important potential sources for conflict investigations is produced by the very people living in the war zones and made available in social networks almost instantly. The citizens recording events in conflict zones are conscious of producing testimonies and evidence, and importantly so, they do so on their own terms. The emergence of citizen journalists/witness has already restructured the fields of journalism with most footage composing Al Jazeera broadcasts, for example, being produced by non-professional media. The addition of a huge multiplicity of primary sources, live testimonies and filmed records of events, challenge research methods and evidentiary practices. There is much locational and spatial information that can be harvested from within these blurry, shaky and unedited images/clips and architectural methodologies are essential in reconstructing incidents in space. Architecture is a good framework to understand the world, alongside others.
Whereas debates around the 'politics of the image' in the field of photography and visual cultures tended to concentrate on the decoding of single images and photojournalistic trophy shots we now need to study the creation of extensive 'image-complexes' and inhabit this field reconstruct events from images taken at different perspective and at different times. The relation between images is architectural, best composed and represented within 3D models. Architectural analysis is useful in locating other bits of evidence—recorded testimonies, films and photos—from multiple perspectives in relation to one other bits of evidence and cross referring these in space.
But 'image complexes' are about interrogating the field of visibility it is also about absence, failures of representation, blockages or destruction of images.
How did you arrive at where you currently are in your thinking about global politics?
I'm an architect, and my intellectual upbringing is in architectural theory and spatial theory. I tend to hold on to this particular approach when I'm entering a geopolitical context or areas that would otherwise be the domain of journalists and human rights people, traditional jurists, etc. Architecture taught me to pay attention to details, to materiality, to media, and to make very close observations about the way built structures might embody political relations.
When I study political situations, I study them as an architect: I look at the way politics turns into a material—spatial practice—the materialization, and at the spatialization, of political forces. Architectural form—as I explained many times—is slowed-down force. My thinking is structured around a relation between force and form. And form, for an architect, is an entry point from which to read politics. So when I look at matter and material reality—like a building, a destroyed building, a piece of infrastructure, a road or bridge, a settlement or suburb or city—I look at it as a product of a political force field. But it is never static. A city always grows, expands or contracts recording the multiple political relations that shaped it.
Buildings continuously record their environment. So one can read political force on buildings. In taking this approach, I am influenced by building surveyors, and insurance people going into a building to look at a scratch in a wall to piece together what might have happened, and what might still happen. So I feel like a kind of property surveyor on the scale of a city at times of war. But in practicing this forensic architecture I also work like an archaeologist: archaeology is about looking at material remains and trying to piece together the cultural, political, military, or social spheres. But I'm an archaeologist of very recent past or of the present. While some of my investigations will always retain a haptic dimension based on material examination, much of it is an analysis of material captured and registered by various medias. Verify, locate, compose and cross-reference a spatial reality from images of architecture.
What would a student need to become a specialist in your field or understand the world in a global way?
The institutes I run do not recruit only architects. We need to open up the disciplinary bounds of education. We work with filmmakers and architects and with artists.
It embodies a desire to understand architecture as a field of inquiry, with which you can interrogate reality as it is effectively registering material transformation. I see architecture as a way of augmenting our way of seeing things in the world, but it's not for me a kind of sacred field that should not be touched or changed.
But I'm also using architecture across the entire spectrum of its relation to politics, from the very dystopian—with forensic architecture, a kind of architectural pathology—to the utopian. I have a studio in Palestine with Palestinian partners of mine, and internationals. Alessandro Petty and Sandi Hilal are in this group, which is called Decolonizing Architure. It's this group that is engaged in very utopian projects for the West Bank and Palestine and the return of refugees and so on. So I use architecture across the entire spectrum, from the very dystopian to the very utopian. Architecture is simply a way of engaging the world and its politics. Space is the way of establishing relations between things. And actually space is not static, it is both a means of establishing relations between people and objects and things. Just as material itself is always an event, always under transformation. So that is something I have taken from architecture and try to bring into politics, but not only in analyzing crimes, but in producing the reality yet to come.
So what we need from people is the desire to understand aesthetics as a field of inquiry, not simply as a pleasurable play of beauty and pleasing kind of effect, but as a kind of very sensorial field, sensorium, in which you can interrogate reality as it is effectively registering material transformation. So I would look simply for that kind of sensorial intensity and high critical approach and understanding and speculating of how it is we know what we think we know. Of course, you cannot see, or you do not know what you see, you do not have the language to interpret or question what it is you 'see' without abstract constructs. This means I don't necessarily look for theoretical capacities in people: I see theory as a way of augmenting our way of seeing things in the world, of registering them, of decoding them, but it's not for me a kind of sacred field to which I submit in any way.
So what is it you work on now?
I'm mostly trying to establish forensic architecture as a critical field of practice and as an agency that produce and disseminate evidence about war crimes in urban context. Recent forensic investigations in Guatemala and in the Israeli Negev involved the intersection of violence and environmental transformations, even climate change. For trials and truth commissions, we analyze the extent to which environmental transformation intersect with conflict.
The imaging of this previously invisible types of violence—'environmental violence' such as land degradation, the destruction of fields and forests (in the tropics), pollution and water diversion, and also long term processes of desertification—we use as new type of evidence of processes dispersed across time and space. There are other conflicts that unfold in relation to climatic and environmental transformations and in particular in relation to environmental scarcity.
Conflict has reciprocal interaction with environment transformation: environmental change could aggravate conflict, while conflict tends to generate further environmental damage. This has been apparent in Darfur, Sudan where the conflict was aggravated by increased competition over arable due to local land erosion and desertification. War and insurgency have occurred along Sahel—Arabic for 'shoreline'—on the southern threshold of the Sahara Desert, which is only ebbing as million of hectares of former arable land turn to desert. In past decades, conflicts have broken out in most countries from East to West Africa, along this shoreline: Eritrea, Ethiopia, Somalia, Sudan, Chad, Niger, Mali, Mauritania, and Senegal. In 2011 in the city of Daraa, farmers' protests, borne out of an extended cycle of droughts, marked the beginning of the Syrian civil war. Similar processes took place in the eastern outskirts of Damascus, Homs, al-Raqqah and along the threshold of the great Syrian and Northern Iraqi Deserts. These transformations impact upon cities, themselves a set of entangled natural/man-made environments. The conflict and hardships along desertification bands compel dispossessed farmers to embark upon increasingly perilous paths of migrations, leading to fast urbanization at the growing outskirts of the cities and slams.
I'm trying to understand these processes across desert thresholds. There has been a very long colonial debate about what is the line beyond which the desert begins. Most commonly it was defined as 200 mm rain per annum. Cartographers were trying to draw it, as it represented, to a certain extent, the limit of imperial control. From this line on, most policing was done through bombing of tribal areas from the air. Since the beginning, the emergence of the use of air power in policing in the post World War I period—aerial control, aerial government—took form in places that were perceived, at the time, as lying beyond the thresholds or edges of the law. The British policing of Iraq, the French in Syria, and Algeria, the Italians in Libya are examples where control would hover in air.
Up to now I was writing about borders that were physical and manmade: walls in the West Bank or Gaza and the siege around it—most notably in Hollow Land (2007, read the introduction here). Now I started to write about borders that are made by the interaction of people and the environment—like the desert line—which is not less violent and brutal. The colonial history of Palestine has been an attempt to push the line of the desert south, trying to make it green or bloom—this is in Ben Gurion's terms—but the origins of this statement are earlier and making the desert green and pushing the line of the desert was also Mussolini's stated aim. On the other hand, climate change is now pushing that line north.
Following not geopolitical but meteorological borders, helps me cut across a big epistemological problem that confines the writing in international relations or geopolitics within the borders organize your writing. Braudel is an inspiration but, for him, the environment of the Mediterranean is basically cyclically fixed. The problem with geographical determinism is that it takes nature as a given, cyclical, milieu which then affects politics—but I think we are now in a period where politics affects nature in the same way in which nature affects politics. The climate is changing in the same speed as human history.
What does your background in architecture add to understanding the global political controversies you engage in?
We are a forensic agency that provides services to prosecution teams around the world. With our amazing members we ran 20-odd cases around the world from the Amazon to Atacama, for the UN, for Amnesty, for Palestinian NGOs, in Gaza of course, West Bank, issues of killings, individual killings in the West Bank that we do now, and much more drastic destructions.
Forensic Architecture is unique in using architectural research methodologies to analyze violations of human rights and international humanitarian law as they bear upon the built environment—on buildings, cities and territories, and this is why we get many commissions. We produced architectural evidence for numerous investigations and presented them in a number of cases in national and international courts and tribunals. We were commissioned by the UN Special Rapporteur for Human Rights to study single destroyed buildings, as well as patterns of destruction, resulting from drone warfare in Pakistan, Yemen, Somalia and Gaza. This study was presented at the UN General Assembly in New York. We developed techniques to locate the remains of buildings and villages overgrown by thick rain forests and presented this material as evidence in the genocide trial of former president Efraín Ríos Montt in the National Court of Guatemala and the Inter-American Court. We quantified and analyzed levels of architectural destruction in Gaza after the 2014 conflict for Amnesty International. We provided architectural models and animations to support a petition against the wall in Battir submitted to the Israeli High Court, helping to win the case.
Recently, we use and deal with the reconstruction of human testimony. Witnesses to war give account of the worst moment of their lives; times when their dear ones have died or hurt. Their memory is disturbed, and tends to be blurred. We have developed a way of very carefully interviewing and discussing with witnesses. Together with them, we build digital models of their own homes. So we can see a very slow process of reconstruction of the relation between memory space and architecture. And events start coming back, through the process of building.
In order to develop this, we needed to explore the historical use of memory and architecture, such as Frances Yates' The Art of Memory (read it here), as well as different accounts on the use of trauma, and bring them into the digital age, bring an understanding of the relation of testimony and evidence into contemporary thinking. Single incidents tend to be argued away as aberrations of 'standard operating procedures'. To bring charges against government and military leaderships, it is necessary to demonstrate 'gross and systematic' violations. This means finding consistent and repeated patterns of violations. Architectural analysis, undertaken on the level of the city is able to demonstrate repetition and transformations in patterns of violation/destruction in space and time—within the battle zone along the duration of the conflict. Architectural analysis is useful not only in dealing with architectural evidence—i.e with destroyed buildings—but also helpful in locating other bits of evidence—testimony films or photos—in relation to one other bits of evidence, and cross referring these in space.
Urban violence unfolds at different intensities, speeds and spatial scales: it is made of patterns of multiple instantaneous events as well as slower incremental processes of 'environmental violence' that affects the transformation of larger territories. We aims to analyze and present the relation between forms of violence that occur at different space and time scales. From eruptive kinetic violence of the instantaneous/human incident through patterns of destruction mapped across and along the duration of urban conflict, to what Rob Nixon calls the 'slow violence' of environmental transformation (read the introduction of the eponymous book here, pdf).
Last question. How does your approach to research relate to, or differ from, approaches to international politics?
To study conflict as a reality that unfolds across multiple scales, we use the microphysical approach—dealing with details, fragments and ruins—as an entry-point from which we will unpack the larger dynamics of a conflict. We reconstruct singular incidents, locate them in space and time to look for and identify patterns, then study these patterns in relation to long terms and wide-scale environmental transformations. This approach seeks to make connections between, what Marc Bloch of the Annales School called 'micro- and macro-history, between close-ups and extreme long shots' in his thesis on historical method. This topological approach is distinct from a traditional scalar one: the macro (political/strategic/territorial) situation will not be seen a root cause for a myriad set of local human right violations (incidents/tactics). In the complex reality of conflict, singularities are equally the result of 'framing conditions' and also contributing factors to phase transitions that might affect, or 'de-frame' as Latour has put it, changes occurring in wider areas. Instead of nesting smaller scales within larger ones, our analysis will seek to fluidly shift from macro to micro, from political conditions to individual cases, from buildings to environments and this along multiple threads, connection and feedback loops.
While in relation to the single incident it might still be possible to establish a direct, liner connection between the two limit figures of the perpetrator and the victim along the model of (international) criminal law, evidence for environmental violence is more scattered and diffused. Instead, it requires the examination of what we call 'field causalities'—causal ecologies that are non-linear, diffused, simultaneous, and that involve multiple agencies and feedback loops, challenging the immediacy of 'evidence'.
Establishing field causalities requires the examination of force fields and causal ecologies, that are non-linear, diffused, simultaneous and involve multiple agencies and feedback loops. Whereas linear causality entails a focus on sequences of causal events on the model of criminal law that seeks to trace a direct line between the two limit figures of victim and perpetrator field causality involves the spatial arrangement of simultaneous sites, actions and causes. It is inherently relational and thus a spatial concept. By treating space as the medium of relation between separate elements of evidence brought together, we aim to expand the analytical scope of forensic architecture. It is inherently relational and thus a spatial concept. By treating space as the medium of relation between separate elements of evidence brought together, field causalities expands the analytical scope of forensic architecture.
Let me illustrate this a bit. Forms of violence are crucially convertible one to another. Drying fields along the Sahel or the Great Syrian Desert, for example, reach a point in which they can no longer support their farmers, contributing to impoverishment, migration to cities, slumnization and waves of protest that might contribute to the eruption of armed conflict. These layers call for a form of architectural analysis able to shift and synthesize information at different scales—from single incidents as they are registered in the immediate spatial setting, through patterns of violations across the entire urban terrain to 'environmental violence' articulated in the transformation of large territories.
Eyal Weizman is an architect, Professor of Visual Cultures and director of the Centre for Research Architecture at Goldsmiths, University of London. Since 2011 he also directs the European Research Council funded project, Forensic Architecture - on the place of architecture in international humanitarian law. Since 2007 he is a founding member of the architectural collective DAAR in Beit Sahour/Palestine. Weizman has been a professor of architecture at the Academy of Fine Arts in Vienna and has also taught at the Bartlett (UCL) in London at the Stadel School in Frankfurt and is a Professeur invité at the École des hautes études en sciences sociales (EHESS) in Paris. He lectured, curated and organised conferences in many institutions worldwide. His books include Mengele's Skull (with Thomas Keenan at Sterenberg Press 2012), ForensicArchitecture (dOCUMENTA13 notebook, 2012), The Least of all Possible Evils (Nottetempo 2009, Verso 2011), Hollow Land (Verso, 2007), A Civilian Occupation (Verso, 2003), the series Territories 1,2 and 3, Yellow Rhythms and many articles in journals, magazines and edited books.
Related links
Facultyprofile at Goldsmith Forensic Architecture homepage Read Weizman's introduction to Forensis (2014) here (pdf) Read Weizman's Forensic Architecture: Notes from Fields and Forums (dOCUMENTA 2012) here (pdf) Read Weizman's Lethal Theory (2009) here (pdf) Read the introduction to Weizman's Hollow Land (2007) here (pdf)
Print version of this Talk (pdf)
0 0 1 3506 19988 School of Global Studies, University of Gothenburg 166 46 23448 14.0
Introduction People say, "don't you ever want to come off?" I don't know. The thought of me getting up without taking something is totally. to me that's normal . If I haven't taken anything then I'm not normal . And for me to even, I can't contemplate not taking something, you know. I'm not a lost cause. I know what my problem is. It's other people that want me to stop. I don't want to stop. I don't want to. Does that make sense to you? (Mya) This extract is taken from an interview that formed part of my doctoral research looking at people's experiences of injecting drug use and treatment services in London, UK. Here I consider one of the ways participants described their use of drugs through a concept of becoming "normal." I pay particular attention to Mya's account and explore the very sense-making that her question (above) demands. Mya uses the concept of normality not only to reflect how drugs have become part of her everyday routines, or part of feeling normal, but actually in materially becoming herself—in embodying a "normal body." As she puts it, "if I haven't taken anything then I am not normal." In this sense, Mya's problem is not the drugs, but the people who want her to stop taking them. This understanding is important for challenging recent policy shifts towards reducing opiate replacement/substitution services in the UK (HM Government; Home Office). Methods The study took place from January to September 2014, and included participant observation at a drug treatment service, interviews with service providers, and "creative" interviews with people who inject drugs. The project was granted ethical approval by the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine Ethics Committee and the NHS Regional Ethics Committee. All participants were given pseudonyms. The creative interview is a term coined by Jennifer Mason to describe an in-depth semi-structured interview which produces additional types of data beyond the spoken word. The method was employed to explore participants' feelings of embodiment as enacted in the drug-using "event." I used a body mapping (drawing) task in these interviews to aid the communication of hard-to-articulate visceral experiences and depict the many actors, human and nonhuman, involved. (For a fuller explanation of the "events" perspective and methods taken in this study, please see Dennis 2016.) Below, I draw both from Mya's narrative and her pictorial account. Becoming "Normal" with Diamorphine Mya is a 52-year-old woman who was recruited to the study through word of mouth. She attended a supervised injecting clinic where another participant informed her about the study. The purpose of this clinic is to prescribe injectable diamorphine (pharmaceutical heroin) for clients to administer under supervised conditions. This unique service is specifically targeted at people who have previously struggled with the more orthodox opiate substitution treatments, such as methadone and buprenorphine. Mya explained that she had a long history of using street heroin, but in the last ten years has been injecting legally and has also illegally sought diamorphine. Mya's drug use had become very hard to sustain financially, both in paying for private prescriptions and in the illegal drugs market, and therefore she wanted a prescription through the National Health Service. She was told that this was only possible through this clinic. However, the clinic's intention was always to reduce this consumption, which Mya did not want to accept. This is because, as she explained, without drugs she is "not normal." A rhetoric of "normality," as deployed in the drug field, has taken two dominant paths. The first is in Parker et al. 's "normalisation thesis," which documents a move during the 1990s when drug use, albeit "recreational drug use," became increasingly common. A concept of "normalisation" is used to explain this social shift in acceptability towards drug taking. The second lies in a oucauldian-influenced embodied idea of performing normality in line with dominant neoliberal discourses. For example, Nettleton et al .'s study with recovering heroin users employs a concept of "normalisation" to explore the ways in which people talk about regaining certain bodily practices to fit in with "the norm." Using the work of Michel Foucault, and his concept of governmentality more specifically, Nettleton et al . argue that "normalisation" is "a crucial aspect of neo-liberal societies, where individuals are encouraged through [decentralised] political projects to become normal: 'the judges of normality are everywhere' (Foucault, 1977)" (175). Although there are vast differences, both these accounts seem to share an understanding of normality as a socially or discursively produced set of practices. However, Mya's narrative of becoming normal seems to be doing something different. She highlights how she becomes normal with drugs in a way that suggests that without drugs she is not normal. This highlights the material work involved in achieving this "normal" state. It is clear that being normal is something we do (both theories above consider normal behaviour as performative) rather than it being pre-defined. But for Mya this is enacted in an ontological rather than learnt way as she connects with drugs. To know normality—"to me that's normal"—and to be normal—"if I haven't taken anything then I'm not normal"—are conflated. Karen Barad, in her theory of agential realism, would call this an intra-action rather than an inter-action, where what we know (epistemology) and what is (ontology) collide, or rather elide. It is in these entanglements of matter and meaning that Mya becomes normal. Mya's narrative highlights the human body as an assemblage (Deleuze and Guattari) in which drugs have become a part. In this sense, drugs can be seen as part of this embodied self rather than separate. Consequently, Mya's account is about more than how her body interacts with drugs, but rather how they become together. Drawing from Deleuze's ontology of becoming, this is the idea that life does not start with any given entities or organisms, but that these forms are brought into being through the forces of life, and as such they are in a constant state of flux, becoming something else. This can challenge ideas of "recovery" (e.g. Home Office) where people are expected to remove themselves from drugs in order to regain their "normal" self. If one's "normal" includes drugs this calls into question the very attempt to de-couple an entangled relationship that, as another participant put it, "has been a long time in the making " (my emphasis). Therefore, it is perhaps not surprising that Mya explains with a heavy heart that she is feeling substantial pressure to reduce her prescription. She feels the clinic staff fail to understand how drugs are part of her and what constitutes her "normal." Thus, as she sees it, her "problem" is not the drugs themselves, but the people who want her to stop taking them. Mya's frustrations start to make more sense—to return to the question in the epigraph—when we think about the body as something we do , involved in a constant task of keeping oneself together . Keeping Oneself Together One does not hang together as a matter of course: keeping oneself together is something the embodied person needs to do . The person who fails to do so dies. (Mol and Law 43) Mol and Law argue that bodies are not something we have but something we do , and that bodies are actively held together through a series of practices. For instance, in their example of hypoglycaemia, a pin prick of blood needs to be taken for the condition to be known, and then counteracted by eating a sugary substance (49). Thinking about Mya's account of becoming normal in these terms, drugs, instead of being seen as "evil" objects of misuse, can, for Mya at least, be part of this vital (life) project of keeping one elf together. This thoroughly blurs the distinctions between "good" medicine (life sustaining/enhancing) and "bad" drugs of abuse (life destroying). Following a Deleuzian understanding of the human body as an assemblage, making the body "actualise" as one is a process of life: "'A' or 'a' (one) is always the index of a multiplicity: an event, a singularity, a life." (Deleuze 388). As such, making bodily boundaries becomes essential. For Mya, drugs are part of this individualisation process in quite overt ways. For example, in her body map (Figure 1) she drew a picture of herself inside a cloud, with voices shouting inwards, penetrating the barrier from outside. About these she said, they are "shouting at me," "telling me what to do," and "what's best for me." But she was at pains to point out that the depicted cloud is not about representing a pleasurable or disassociated feeling, but more to do with blocking out these intruding voices telling her how to live her life so that they "can't get to me": Mya: That makes it sound like the drug makes me feel like I'm in a cloud, it doesn't, cos I just feel normal , it just helps me to, to deal with things better, it helps me to get less stressful, does that make sense? Author: Normal? Mya: Yeah Author: So if you haven't had it, you feel more on edge? Mya: I'm a complete nervous wreck. I'll be jumping everywhere, you know, if someone opens the window of a bus and I'm jumping. Figure 1: Mya's Body Map For Mya, then, her drug use is not about pleasure, or pain for that matter, but about something altogether more vital: it is about keeping together in a stressful, invasive world, to "deal with things better." It seems that Mya's drawing—through which she was asked to depict her feelings when using drugs—is about trying to hold the permeable, leaky body together. For the injecting body, which regularly incorporates and excorporates drugs, is an active/metabolic body: The active body has semi-permeable boundaries [.] inside and outside are not so stable. Metabolism, after all, is about eating, drinking and breathing; about defecating, urinating and sweating. For a metabolic body incorporation and excorporation are essential. (Mol and Law 54) A similar argument is made by Vitellone, citing Keane: Heroin is not separate from but becomes central to the body, selfhood, and processes of individualization. Thus according to Keane "a drug is something external that becomes internalized, blurring the distinction between not only inside/outside but also self/other". (166; see also Keane) In Mya's drawing and account, drugs are intimately involved in the task of individuating—in making clear boundaries between her and the world. In this sense, her drawing of a cloud can be seen almost like an extra layer of skin. This also occurs in the accounts of two other participants. One female participant commented on how, without drugs, she does not feel herself, to the point that she said, "I don't want to be in my own skin." And a male participant also used similar language to note that without heroin (even though he is prescribed methadone, an opiate substitute) he can feel "disembodied": Everything is all "oh oh" [he makes sounds and body movements to show a fear of things getting too close] like that, everything is like right, like if you're trying to walk around the streets and it's just like you can't handle busy high streets and you know busy like tubes and . In these accounts, drugs are playing a key role in this boundary work, that is, in enacting the body as One. This resonates strongly with Donna Haraway's idea of individualisation as "a strategic defense problem" (212). This is the idea that the individual body is not something we are born with, but something we strive towards. Haraway argues that "bodies have become cyborgs," where "the cyborg is text, machine, body, and metaphor" (212). Mya takes great care in making sure that I have understoo this process of boundary-making, which is essential to the cyborg, and on several occasions checks back with me to confirm that she is making sense. She gives the impression that she has been explaining these feelings for years, but still does not feel fully understood. This is perhaps why she seems so thrilled when she feels I have finally got a handle on the dynamic: Mya: But the methadone makes me feel heavy, lethargic, with the diamorphine I can get on with being normal, more better, and not so sleepy, does that make sense? [.] It just helps me cope with everything. You know what I mean, everything . Even . Author: Like taking the edge off things? Mya: That's it, the edge off things, you've got it! I've never thought of that before, that's a good way of putting it. Author: No cos I was thinking about what you were saying about how you can feel anxious and stuff, and I can imagine it just . Mya: You're right, you've done it in a nut shell there. Cos people have asked me that before and I haven't been able to answer. That is a good answer. It takes the edge of things. Yeah. At the end of the interview, and long past this initial reference, Mya shows appreciation of this phrase once more, as an expression which she feels could help in her bid to be better understood: Author: Anyway, I'll end the interview there. Mya: Was that alright? Author: Yeah, perfect. Is there anything else that you think is important that I've missed out? Mya: No not at all. I think you've just helped me there by saying it takes the edge off things, I've been trying to put that into words for a long time, I didn't know how to say it . Although these experiences are of course linked to withdrawal symptoms as a particular arrangement of bodily connections, when I ask about this, it is evident that it is also about something more. For example, in trying to get at why Mya feels she needs diamorphine rather than methadone, she talks about it being "cleaner," "purer," "less groggy." And even though I prompt her on the potential enjoyment, she links "the buzz" to being able to get on with "normal things," saying "I can act more normal with the heroin": Mya: Definitely it's less groggy. Author: And does it give you a slight buzz also? Mya: Sometimes it does yeah. Like I can get on with my housework better and things like that, day to day things, I can act more normal with the heroin. With just the methadone, things just slip . With an interesting use of the term, Mya says that with methadone (which would be the more usual opiate prescribed in heroin treatment) "things just slip." Again, there is a sense of diamorphine holding her together, in a way that without it she would "slip." This perhaps highlights the slipperiness of connections that are only ever "partial" (Haraway 181). Rather than becoming too porous, with methadone she becomes too shut off or "groggy," and again her body becomes unable to do things. This is perhaps why she is so insistent that diamorphine stays put in her life: "I'm not going to lie, even if I don't get it, I'm still going to use the diamorphine." Or, in Haraway's words, she "would rather be a cyborg than a goddess"(181) —she would rather endure the political and potentially criminal consequences of requiring this "outside" substance than pretend to live apart from/above the material world. Conclusion When we consider bodies as something we do, rather than have, we see that rather than Mya's account of normality reflecting a social change (Parker et al .) or solely discursive embodiment (Nettleton et al .), it actually refers to how she becomes her "normal self" in more material ways. Mya's account thoroughly disrupts a separation of object/subject, as well as several other binaries that underpin contemporary ideas of psychoactive drug use and the body, including drug/medicine, inner/outer, self/other, and of course, normal/pathological. Instead, and in trying to do justice to Mya's q estion which opened the essay, her body is seen connecting with drugs in a way that holds her together (as One) in becoming "normal." Consequently, her fears over having these drugs stopped are very real concerns over a disruption to her corporeality, which demand to be taken seriously. This calls for urgent questions to be asked over current UK policy trends toward eliminating diamorphine prescribing services (see O'Mara) and reducing opiate substitution more generally. References Barad, Karen. Meeting the Universe Halfway: Quantum Physics and the Entanglement of Matter and Meaning. Durham: Duke UP, 2007. Deleuze, Gilles. "Immanence: A Life." Two Regimes of Madness: Texts and Interviews 1975–1995. Ed. David Lapoujade. New York: Semiotext(e), 2006. 384–91. Deleuze, Gilles, and Felix Guattari. A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia . London: Continuum, 2004. Dennis, Fay. "Encountering 'Triggers:' Drug-Body-World Entanglements of Injecting Drug Use." Contemporary Drug Problems (2016). . Haraway, Donna. Simians, Cyborgs, and Women: The Reinvention of Nature . London: Free Association Books, 1991. HM Government. "Drug Strategy 2010: Reducing Demand, Restricting Supply, Building Recovery: Supporting People to Live a Drug Free Life." Home Office , 2010. 1 Jan. 2011 . Home Office. "Putting Full Recovery First." Home Office , 2012. 5 Feb. 2013 . Keane, Helen. What's Wrong with Addiction ? Melbourne: Melbourne UP, 2002. Mason, Jennifer. "What Is Creative Interviewing?" 2010. 10 May 2013 . Mol, Annemarie, and John Law. "Embodied Action, Enacted Bodies. The Example of Hypoglycaemia." Body & Society 10.2 (2004): 43-62. Nettleton, Sarah, Joanne Neale, and Lucy Pickering. "'I Just Want to Be Normal': An Analysis of Discourses of Normality among Recovering Heroin Users." Health 17.2 (2013): 174–190. O'Mara, Erin. "The State We're In: Heroin Prescribing in the UK." Drink and Drug News (Dec. 2015). 20 Jan. 2016 . Parker, Howard, Judith Aldridge, and Fiona Measham. Illegal Leisure: The Normalization of Adolescent Recreational Drug Use . Hove: Routledge, 1998. Vitellone, Nicole. "The Rush: Needle Fixation or Technical Materialization?" Journal for Cultural Research 7.2 (2003): 165–177.
Die Inhalte der verlinkten Blogs und Blog Beiträge unterliegen in vielen Fällen keiner redaktionellen Kontrolle.
Warnung zur Verfügbarkeit
Eine dauerhafte Verfügbarkeit ist nicht garantiert und liegt vollumfänglich in den Händen der Blogbetreiber:innen. Bitte erstellen Sie sich selbständig eine Kopie falls Sie einen Blog Beitrag zitieren möchten.
Karen Litfin on Gaia Theory, Global Ecovillages, and Embedding IR in the Earth System
This is the third in a series of Talks dedicated to the technopolitics of International Relations, linked to the forthcoming double volume 'The Global Politics of Science and Technology' edited by Maximilian Mayer, Mariana Carpes, and Ruth Knoblich
Many debates in International Relations concern struggles regarding what should be the autonomous limits and focus of the discipline itself. However, increasing environmental and climate concerns challenge the self-contained nature of IR on discrete political phenomena, because what IR considers it's exogenous context is threatening to destabilize the premises of the content of international political practice itself. While such concerns often lead to a securitization and politicization of the environment and climate in IR, some scholars argue we should work towards the exact opposite. In this Talk, Karen Litfin—among others—elaborates on the kind of theory in which IR is embedded in, rather than applied to, natural systems; discusses examples of social arrangements that try to translate that theoretical insight into practice; and engages with questions of secularism and mysticism that irrevocably accompany those efforts.
Print version of this Talk (pdf)
What is, according to you, the biggest challenge / principal debate in current IR? What is your position or answer to this challenge / in this debate?
The fact that we can today truly speak of something of a global economy, the central problem now is to formulate the political institutions that are commensurate to these globalized economic institutions. We have far to go on that project. It also means doing so within the carrying capacity of the earth—that is, politically configuring that global economy in such a way that it doesn't exhaust ecological resources. So I would say that the challenge, in terms of actual politics, is to find those institutions.
The challenge for the discipline of International Relations is to do the necessary thinking to facilitate that institutional transition, but few IR scholars even acknowledge that political institutions must attend to the carrying capacity of the earth. In general, the discipline of International Relations, Political Science and even most of social sciences more generally behave as if there are no natural constraints to our behavior. Yet our freedom to even be able to theorize about the international system is completely dependent upon a vast web of life, other people growing our food, and a whole technological infrastructure that we had nothing to do with creating. International Relations talks a lot about interdependence, but do we really take it seriously?
How did you arrive at where you currently are in IR?
I've always been interested in science and technology. As an undergraduate, I studied physics and astronomy, but I didn't finish those majors because I realized, that if I graduated with those degrees I would most likely be working indirectly or directly for the military. I got politicized and I began to see that the political agenda drives the scientific agenda. This was in the 1970s and it was possible at that time that we were going to have an all-out nuclear war. I did not want to be a part of that.
I began to see that there is a dialectical relationship between science and politics. Because science facilitates the technological changes, which make the basic backdrop for politics, it's very important. For instance, the defense department was funding DARPA, which led—without them fathoming that at the time—to the development of the Internet—now a key site where global politics plays out.
Science also provides metaphors through which we understand politics. I did my Masters thesis on the mechanistic worldview and the devitalization of nature in the 17th century—that is, taking living nature out of our systematic theorizing. While others had written on this, I traced it back to the ancient Greek philosophy. A reductionist and mechanistic worldview underpins a lot of IR theory, as well most of our political institutions. We need to really start questioning that. Another way this plays out is that the notion of the global really had a huge jump when we got the image of Earth fromspace. The idea of Earth Day was really closely aligned to the fact that the image of the earth from space just had come out. Gaia Theory came about because James Lovelock was looking for signs of life on Mars. We were interested in extra-planetary life, but weren't looking at our own system or planet. So basically it turned all that science back on the Earth and said 'Oh my Gosh, we do have this kind of atmosphere that has the telltale science of life in it', which tells us that life is hoping to create the atmosphere. Then to have the human mind to conceptualize that is really huge. The idea that we are the Earth becoming conscious of itself is basically what science is telling us. These monitoring systems are one means by which we have the possibility of becoming conscious of that fact.
In terms of personal trajectory, when I started teaching International Relations back in the early 1990s, I started realizing that petroleum holds the whole thing together, the whole global system was held together by petroleum. (You could also say fossil fuels, but coal and natural gas don't power that much transnationally; it's really the petroleum.) Yet hardly anybody in IR talks seriously about petroleum—or energy or biodiversity or soil or the atmosphere. That's what I mean about getting to the material basis. But having said that, I think how we interact with the material basis is a reflection of our consciousness. So I'm not a material reductionist. Rather, I'm looking for a wholeness that understands our approach to material reality as being a reflection of our consciousness.
So this was why I have become interested in biological metaphors. I still think the leaning edge of human thought is understanding human systems as living systems. From this vantage point, we can begin to reshape our institutions in ways that mimic, sustain, and regenerate living systems. There's a long history of natural law and I don't exactly put myself in that camp, but I think there are ways that we need to understand ourselves as thoroughly embedded in natural systems and then move consciously from that place.
What would a student need to become a specialist in IR or understand the world in a global way?
To my mind, these are very different questions because, at least at many universities, becoming an IR specialist often entails ignoring some fundamental global realities. For one, even though most of humanity lives in so-called developing countries, most IR theory pays attention only to the Global North. Likewise, IR is fairly blind to the fact that the lifestyles of the Global North, if globalized, would require between three and six Earths, depending upon whether you are looking at Europeans or North Americans. Again, there is only one Earth! Fortunately, an important subfield has emerged with IR—global environmental politics—that is helping to rectify the situation.
The question I would prefer to answer is: what would a student need to know in order to understand the most pressing challenges facing the world system? To this, I would advise three things. The first would be to dive deeply into a broad and critical reading of the history of modernity, including the interpenetrating scientific, political, commercial, theological and industrial revolutions that characterize the modern era. The second would be to learn about the primary international institutions (the WTO, World Bank, IMF, EU, UN Security Council, etc.), and ask what is working, what isn't, and why? The third would be to do all of this learning while simultaneously learning to think systemically. Take at least one good course on systems theory; one that specifically offers a strong grounding in living systems, and start making connections. Why, for instance, do 'ecology' and 'economics' share the same root (oikos, Greek for household)? What would it mean to consider the international system as a living system and a subset of the Earth system? If we think this world system that we've created of a globalized economy and rudimentary international law is not a part of a living system, we are living in a big delusion. So to actually understand how living systems function, we need the literature on system theory that of course has been used in biology and ecology, but has also been applied a lot in the business world and organizational development. I think it's making its way into IR.
The world is full of technologies and technological systems (and getting more so each day). Could you elaborate on how this is relevant for IR?
I think that's a huge gap: IR doesn't pay nearly enough attention to technological systems—and when they do, it's generally from an uncritical and mechanical perspective. Even though much of the constructivist critique of liberal institutionalism is that the latter is overly materialistic, it actually isn't as if institutionalists talk about economics as if that were a material reality. Economics is a secondary human system overlaid on, but abstracted from, material systems. I think that IR needs to get really serious about understanding the actual material basis for politics. Climate change will probably be the issue that drives that.
So what kinds of technologies and institutions are we going to have to facilitate a global civilization? Now that's a worthwhile question! As I indicated, we now have a more or less globalized economy, but we don't have a global polis; we don't have the institutions that are commensurate to the economy that we have got. So the question is: can we sustain current civilization on the energy budget that is available to us and not wreck the climate?
Technological systems are driven by energy; energy is the master resource. Some energy analysts say that in order to have a global civilization, we need to have an energy return on energy investments of something like 5 to 1—meaning, for instance, that for each barrel of oil we put into getting more oil, we need to get five back. Right now petroleum is getting—depending on where you find it and how it's getting to you—somewhere between 15 and 25 to 1. That's the Middle East. It used to be 100 to 1 at the beginning of the 19th century. And now we are getting, say, 20:1. I've seen analyses of tar sands that put that energy source at somewhere between 3 and 5 to 1. Solar panels, if they work well, they are maybe getting 5:1. So the trend is worsening and we are starting to push that envelope of 5:1 energy return on investment. And if we exploit some of the new unconventional hydrocarbons—like fracking and, worse, methane hydrates—to their maximum potential, we'll fry the planet.
My question is how we can leverage existing technological, economic, financial and political resources to sustain a global civilization. I dearly wish more people were putting their attention on that question. The underlying assumption for most people is that business as usual can continue. Maybe, but not for long.
I'd like to throw in one little term coined by Stephen Quilley, an environmental sociologist: 'low energy cosmopolitanism' (read the paper here). I think this is a huge challenge for us. If it's possible to have a global civilization on the energy budget that we have available, it's going to be some form of a low energy cosmopolitanism, where we make some very conscious choices about what we are going to globalize. For instance, Germany probably wouldn't be importing grapes from Africa and none of us would be going on luxury vacations. We would be making a lot of conscious choices, but if we want to have a global civilization we have to be globalizing something, so what is it that we are globalizing?
How do you see the question of technological determinism when studying technologies?
This is really important to note, because if you just look at human systems as living systems there can be a kind of materialistic reductionism there. People who think like William Connolly, the new materialism understands that we should not be materialistic reductionists and that there is this wildcard of human consciousness. The fact of the matter is, we can assemble all the data we want but we don't know where we are going. But what we do know is that we've created a tremendously complex and complicated world that nobody can actually understand!
I think we need to address that question in a very specific way with respect of specific technologies, but if we stick to one example—satellites—I think the technologies do have certain properties embedded in them. I have written a feminist theoretical critique of earth observing satellites, where I argued that this kind of gaze from space actually does downplay or preclude certain perspectives. But as I thought about it more deeply, I saw very concretely that a lot of people are using those technologies to do what they want—not what the centralized political and scientific institutions that gave rise to the satellites wanted. So I would say the wildcard here is consciousness and human inventiveness, because that's what will shape how people deploy the technologies once there are on the ground.
For example, satellites were devised for spying and are certainly still being used for spying, but they are being used for so much else, such as Google Maps. I think some people might have been able to foresee that kind of development, but most of us didn't have a clue that this sort of thing could come about. Or that you could have indigenous people mapping their traditional lands in order to make land rights claims. So the wildcard really is human consciousness and that's why nothing really is deterministic. The greater the complexity in a living system, the more surprising its emergent properties. Seven billion human brains linked together in global technological and ecological systems are bound to yield surprises!
You indicated that you use biology and living systems as a reservoir for metaphors. Could you elaborate on that?
If I speak about living systems I usually do so through work called Gaia Theory. Looking through the lens of Gaia Theory, we would first understand that we exist within certain spheres such as biosphere, atmosphere and hydrosphere. We have taken geological time and inserted it into human time by digging up fossil fuels. As a consequence, we have kind of checkmated ourselves and are now forced into having to think in geological terms. We have to start thinking in geological time scales, which was never the case before. If we are going to find a way of inhabiting this planet sustainably, particularly if we are going to have anything approaching a global civilization, we have to understand that we live within a living system and then go about the rather daunting but exciting project of developing international law and institutions that reflect that reality.
There is a whole subfield of earth system governance in which Earth system scientists, IR theorists and international legal experts are coming together to think through these questions. The literature on earth system governance starts from the premise that the Earth is a living system and draws heavily on earth system science, which draws heavily from Gaia theory. You cannot separate atmosphere, oceans, lithosphere, and biosphere: they are all intertwined as one big living system—and now humanity is functioning as a geophysical force on a planetary scale. That's the meaning of the Anthropocene, and it will require an entirely new way of going about politics and economics.
So how can we bring the concept of Gaia Theory into practical reality? Besides the emerging field of Earth system governance, we can also do this in a very personal way by beginning to really internalize what it means being a human being at this time. A few years back, I came to the point where I decided that I did not want to theorize about anything I could not live. That turned out to be a huge challenge. After I wrote the 'integral politics' piece (see links below)—and I really do love that piece!—I saw that I couldn't fully live it. It was so big. For me, one of the most important implications of Gaia Theory is that we are the Earth becoming aware of itself. That's a huge implication. If you merely think of it conceptually, it is wonderful mind candy; but if you actually take it to the heart and try to live it, it changes your life. I challenged myself to do this and, at some point, it occurred to me that there must be other people who have traveled farther down that road than I had—in other words, people who had radically changed their lives to reflect their growing awareness that human beings are the Earth becoming conscious of itself. So I found myself traveling around the world to ecovillages which, for me, helped to tie it all together. Why is somebody who's teaching international environmental law and politics wandering around the world visiting these little tiny micro-communities? Because these people are taking the radical implications of Gaia Theory to heart (even if they've never read about it) and collectively changing their material, economic and social lives. That's why I spent a year on the road living in ecovillages. It's a strange thing to be an IR theorist who doesn't want to theorize about anything that she can't live!
Bringing up the issue of how to live your research, could you elaborate on what kind of outlook is necessary to live in accordance to Gaia Theory?
So this leads to the importance of humility for me. The value of humility is that it comes naturally as a consequence of understanding. You do not have to value it in advance; it comes automatically from understanding ourselves as part of this larger living system. In my experience at least, as soon as you grasp that, you automatically have an enormous sense of humility and gratitude. Those two qualities just spontaneously arise from truly grasping that reality. Going back to ecovillages, I asked myself who is living in ways that can actually work for the long run. The result became the eponymous book. I wanted to see collective efforts and particularly larger communities that were generally at least a hundred people, because you can do a lot more collectively, than you can on your own. Some of these communities are reducing their ecological footprint radically. In some cases, we are talking about per capita reductions in material consumption and waste production of 80-90% as compared to their home country averages.
This is very big news—especially given that these communities are still tied to the larger system. They are not tiny isolated enclaves. For instance, they're still using the mass transit of the larger society; most of them have Wi-Fi and high-speed Internet. They're not living in caves and many of them are very much globally engaged. On a material level, they're much closer to living within the Earth's carrying capacity. So in that way, I was very interested in just seeing what are their physical systems. But I began to see that their physical systems were only made possible because of the degree of trust and reciprocity that they have created.
That entails doing a lot of personal work. Diana Leafe-Christian, who has written a number of books on communities, says that 'community life is the longest and most expensive personal growth workshop you'll ever take'. It's true! If you're willing to do the personal work and hang in there through the difficult times and conflicts, you can develop the kind of self that's willing to do some very deep sharing. I would add, though, that this level of sharing is done best when it is respectful of the individualism that we have developed. I don't think that communities should be running roughshod over individualism. There needs to be some balance of privacy and communal life. The communities that work well have figured out a way to do this. To my mind, the communities that work really well are the ones who are working on developing collective forms of consciousness. Which means actually I think going beyond the separative rational mind: it doesn't mean demeaning those qualities, it means using them, but using them in the service of something larger. As I said earlier, progressive change entails transcending and including. Individualism, for all its negative consequences, is a genuine historical achievement.
And I would say on a very practical level, one of the ways that they reduce their footprint is by withdrawing to some extent from the global economy. Having very low consumption and being fairly energy efficient and self-reliant, reliance on food self-sufficiency, but withdrawing from global society. To me, they are answering the question I raised earlier: What would a low-energy cosmopolitanism look like? And they are doing this not just because they consume less and live more simply but because by and large ecovillagers actually have a cosmopolitan identity. They might be growing their own food and composting their shit, but they're also tied into the global system. They're actively engaged in the Internet, sometimes attending global conferences and many of them are politically active on issues such as genetically modified organisms and nuclear waste disposal and human rights.
They are little nodes of positive examples, but they're very small. In fact, hardly anybody lives in an ecovillage, which is why the last chapter of my book is called 'Scaling it up'. I basically look at the underlying principles of ecovillages and talk about how these principles could be scaled up to the level of cities, regions, national government and international norms. I realize this is a big stretch, but I felt that as an International Relations scholar, I at least need to try it. The important misconception you run into that moment is the idea that sustainability needs to be expensive—the idea that somehow we can consume our way into sustainability. Actually, the most sustainable form of consumption is no consumption! Yet this is not what all ecovillages do. There is one community that I visited in up-state New York, in Ithaca, this is the same city that Cornell University is in, where two thirds of the residents have masters degrees or PhDs and their homes are worth more than the average in the area. They have a pretty middle class lifestyle, yet their average ecological footprint is about half the American norm. So they're not sustainable, but they are definitely moving in the right direction. They hired architects and have nice homes, which is a very different approach than that of most rural ecovillages.
In the Global North, the smallest footprints that I saw tended to be in the rural off-grid ecovillages that were more or less self-sufficient in food, energy, and water. In some of these communities, residents were living on as little as 25% of their average national incomes. This is impressive because it tells us that people in affluent countries can live well on far less money and with far less environmental damage than is considered normal in those countries.
Yet the fact of the matter is that most people today live in cities, so it was important for me to also look at urban ecovillages. Los Angeles Ecovillage, for instance, has a very small footprint because it is high-density and automobile use is discouraged. If you lower your transportation footprint by not driving or sharing vehicles, and if you grow your own food or rely upon locally produced food and have and passive solar construction and renewable energy for your buildings, you can dramatically reduce your energy consumption. You can have a much smaller footprint and still have a very comfortable life. People think that you need money in order to live. It seems that we need money in order to live, but actually what we need is food and shelter and transportation and relationships. So if you figure out ways of getting those things without money, you've made a huge step to getting out of the global economy. In a nutshell, that's what ecovillages are doing.
So are ecovillages all the same across the globe? Is it a new 'social form' emerging?
It is different in the developing countries and in the affluent countries, and I think it's important to clarify that at the outset. I visited a number of ecovillages and ecovillage networks in both developing countries and affluent countries. In the latter, there is a greater possibility for what I consider 'post-individualist' that both transcends and includes individualism. A very simple 'post-individualistic' approach to property rights, for instance, would be co-housing, where the land is owned in common and people own their own homes. But their private homes would be a lot smaller because so many amenities are shared. The common house would have a community kitchen, so that, depending upon how much people are willing to share, private kitchens can be very small. If there's a collectively owned guest space, then you don't need a guest room in your house. And if you do a lot of your socializing together, then you can do that in the common house. So your own house could be quite small but you would still have access to all the comforts of a private existence and more. The more people are willing to share, the more will be collectively owned. And that really does require trust, because it's a big problem if the relationships blow up and you have your finances entangled with those people! This is just one example of how property rights can coexist with the softening of boundaries between individuals.
The flipside of this is occurring in developing countries, where the post-individualistic arrangement that I've been making doesn't really apply. And this is important because that's where most people in the world live. There you have cultures where people already have much more of a collective orientation. So we really need to pay attention to what's happening there. Actually, in many cases, their developmental task is to become more individuals. And the question is: how do they become more highly-individualized rather than being subsumed by traditional moral codes—how do they that without over-consuming. In the west, we had a fossil fuel subsidy that enabled us to become highly individualized, as I said before, the only reason we can be having this interview is because somebody else is growing our food.
In developing countries, the real task is to find a way for people to become more individualistic without over consuming. And so this is why I was impressed by the model I saw in Sarvodaya, a Sri Lankan participatory development network that belongs to the Global Ecovillage Network. There, fifteen thousand villages are trying to apply ecovillage principles to create what they call a "no-poverty/no-affluence society." Their programs in micro-finance and women's literacy, for instance, give villagers—especially women—an incentive to stay in the village because they have a livelihood. And when people stay in their villages, they tend to live a lot more sustainably. As the women becoming literate, they begin making choices for themselves and therefore becoming more individualized. So it's a way of hopefully leap-frogging urbanization in order to sustain rural village life.
I should say that you can apply these principles anywhere you live, in cities as well as rural areas. I visited quite a few ecovillages in cities. One of the most important things that the Global Ecovillage Network is doing is training people, wherever they live, to apply ecovillage principles in their urban neighborhoods or wherever they find themselves. There have been some amazing projects coming up in the Brazilian favelas and in China. GEN has developed a course called 'Gaia Education' that's being offered all over the world and especially in developing countries. There's now a Global Ecovillage Network for Africa. There are basic principles of sustainability that, if you live in an ecovillage, you can apply more intentionally, but they are applicable everywhere.
In a way, 'Gaia theory' sounds very spiritual—and for that reason the Gaia concept was initially very much opposed by many physicists and climate scientists. In a way, Gaia theory entails a critique of modernist secularism and faith in technology; how do you see that in your work?
I have mentioned the critique of mechanization in the early modern era, but in fact the early modern scientists, such as Newton, were all looking for God. Now many of the hard sciences are moving in the direction of mysticism—I would speak of mysticism rather than spirituality—but it's not a mysticism that is simply a projection of the human psyche onto the cosmos; rather, it is empirically derived. I think that's a kind of postmodern development that would have been impossible in the pre-modern era. That's what I was saying about transcending and including, that the ideas that we have of who we are in the cosmos are so different as a consequence of modern science. We can transcend those ideas but also include them. From the Big Bang and the evolution of species, we came out of all of that! And implicit within this fact, if you take it deeper, is that there is a secret oneness to it all. I think that the lessons we have to learn politically and economically now are about interdependence. But if you take interdependence to its depths, it too implies a secret oneness. Most importantly for the current evolutionary crisis: that oneness is embedded in our consciousness and we can access that. That is the reason why I don't want to theorize about anything that I can't live; I'm working at that level as well.
It's interesting, because that also has implications for my teaching. I teach in a fairly direct way when I have living bodies and inquiring minds right in front of me and can engage them at a personal level. I give them my big picture view of politics as a subset of living systems and also being a kind of living system. I get them to inhabit that in themselves through doing contemplative and reflective exercises in the classroom. For instance, I'm teaching a class called political ecology of the world food system and we talked about the globalization of different food commodities and where chocolate comes from for instance, where it originally came from, who processes it, how much do the farmers get from all of that. I brought in raw cacao nibs, which most of the students had never tasted before. We talked about where these came from and how expensive they were even though cacao is not processed, because raw cacao is a something of a delicacy. Then I gave them this very highly processed chocolate without sugar and with alternative sweeteners in it. I invited them to really be present to tasting each of these things as I talked about them and I left some significant gaps of silence, they could actually be present to experience of themselves inhabiting the living system and now being the beneficiary of a world food system. How did we come to have cacao from West Africa and stevia from Paraguay in our mouths? What are sociopolitical and biotic networks that have made this possible? And can we allow ourselves to truly experience what it means to be the beneficiary of these living systems? And what of our own as living system? When I am in the classroom it is actually quite easy to teach what I call person/planet politics. I never teach anything as if it is just 'out there'. Whenever I teach anything, I want the students to inhabit it in their bodies, in their experience. And I try to do that as best as I can by living what I teach as best I can.
It is a little embarrassing, but I don't know how all of this applies to IR; I am just trying to do it as best I can in my own life, as it is presented to me. And I write about it and I publish things—I have a piece coming out on localism that basically makes the case for what I call organic globalism, which is a globalization that is premised upon the earth as a living system and international institutions being designed very consciously on that basis. I don't quite know what it looks like but I have a sense of its rightness. To be honest with you, I am better with that in the classroom that I am at the level of large-scale institutions. Because I am beginning to inhabit this in my own being and I can communicate it to students. Maybe the next challenge is to be able to communicate it at a larger level.
So isn't there a tension between living sustainably and participating in a globalized world that is hard-wired in terms of technology?
Consciousness does not at all preclude technology. For example, I think us having this dialogue is on some level contributing to a certain kind of consciousness and it's completely facilitated by technology. Without Skype we wouldn't be having this conversation. What's helpful to me, about what I call E2C2 (ecology, economics, community and consciousness) is that these are four lenses through which to view any phenomenon—and that includes technology. For instance, we can view our Skype conversation through the lens of ecology in terms of the amount of energy that's used. Economically, we might consider what is being produced and what its value is. It's probably a pretty good economic deal since you and I are virtually paying nothing for it! So economically it's a good deal. In terms of the communitarian lens, we are developing a dialogue that will hopefully be in a relational field with many other people, perhaps thereby also contributing to a certain growth of consciousness.
E2C2 offers four lenses through which we can look at technology; they are not mutually exclusive. For me, the question is: to what extent are our technologies beneficial in terms of each of the lenses. Denis Hayes, the guy who started Earth Day, said the basic principle of sustainability is that you leave your molecules at home and export your photons. This brings us back to the concept of low energy cosmopolitanism. It's a huge question: what are we going to globalize? If we are going to have a global civilization we need to have global communication. The Internet is a tremendous achievement in that regard, and could to function as a kind of global brain, though its roots are in its military applications and today it is primarily dominated by commerce. (And I understand that pornography is a big part of it as well.) Despite its limitations, the Internet provides an infrastructure that could enable us to be in communication globally, which is very important if you want to develop a global consciousness and a global civilization. But we need to understand that our technologies must operate within the limits of the Earth system. In other words, technologies—like all human systems—are also living systems.
Last question. So how can we relate this back to IR?
I think one of the ways this is happening is that some pockets of IR are actually returning to foundational concepts. For instance, Alexander Wendt (Theory Talk #3) has started this Journal International Theory. People are seriously looking at the bigger and deeper questions, so uniting more with political theorists for instance. This idea that we are coming up against real limits is a very frightening idea from the perspective of a certain idea of freedom rooted in liberal politics. We really need to rethink the meaning of freedom in an era of limits. My own feeling is that human beings are kind of hard-wired towards unlimitedness—but the world is now pressing us to interrogate this impulse. We don't do well with limits. But the fact of the matter is, we are not evolutionarily adapted to abundance, we don't even know what to do with abundance. We are squandering resources in the most absurd ways. So we really need to rethink what freedom is in a world of limits.
It's not all together a bad thing that we are facing these limits. Those of us who have at least the privilege of being well fed and reasonably comfortable, can actually turn our attention to this question of consciousness. Because this question of 'what is freedom' is a problem of human consciousness. Rather than turning our desire towards mastery—I think as human beings we have an innate desire towards mastery – rather than turning that desire onto the external world, we've pretty well mastered it; except turns out that we live in it so it's coming back to bite us and we are facing huge climate change most likely. When we shift the focus of this desire for mastery to our own psyches, then lots of things open up. And I don't think only people who live in industrialized countries need to do this or are doing this. One of the things I saw in my ecovillage book is that people living in developing countries are also quite aware of it and are doing it at the places they live as well. There is a global awakening, at least in small pockets, to the fact that we live within a limited Earth system and a serious inquiry into what it means to be a human being at this juncture between modernity and the Anthropocene.
Karen Litfin (Ph.D., University of California, Los Angeles, 1992) is an associate professor in the Department of Political Science at the University of Washington. She specializes in global environmental politics, with core interests in green theory, the science/policy interface, and what she calls "person/planet politics." Her first book, Ozone Discourses: Science and Politics in International Environmental Cooperation (Columbia University Press, 1994), looks at the discursive framing of science in the ozone treaties. Her second book, The Greening of Sovereignty in World Politics (MIT Press, 1998), explores how state sovereignty is being reconfigured as a consequence of global environmental politics. Some of the topics of her recently publications include: the politics of earth remote sensing; the political implications of Gaia Theory; the relationship between scientific and political authority in the climate change negotiations; the politics of sacrifice in an ecologically full world; and holistic thinking in the global ecovillage movement.
Related links
Faculty profile at the University of Washington Read Litfin's Thinking like a planet: Gaian politics and the transformation of the world food system (2011 book chapter) here (pdf) Read Litfin's Towards an Integral Perspective on World Politics: Secularism, Sovereignty and the Challenge of Global Ecoloy (Millennium, 2003) here (pdf) Read Litfin's The Status of the Statistical State: Satellites and the Diffusion of Epistemic Sovereignty (Global Society, 1999) here (pdf) Read Litfin's The Gendered Eye in the Sky: Feminist Perspectives on Earth Observation Satellites (Frontiers 1997) here (pdf)
Issue 46.6 of the Review for Religious, November/December 1987. ; Self-Awareness and Ministry Gender, History, and Liturgy Humanity's Humble Stable God's Love Is Not Utilitarian Volume 46 Number 6 Nov./Dec. 1987 Rv:vw.w t:o~ R~,~olous (ISSN 0034-639X), published eve~ two months, is edited in collaboration with lhe faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Lx~uis University. The edito-rial offices are located at Room 428:3601 Lindell Blvd.: St. Louis, MO. 63108-3393. R~vu-:w ~:o~ R~:.~.~t~ous is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. Ol987 by R~-:wt.:w ~:o~ R~.~.~ous. Single copies $2.50. Subscriptions: U.S.A. $11.00 a year: $20.00 for two years. Other countries: add $4.00 per year (surface mail); airmail (Book Rate): $18.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: R~:v~v:w roa R~:t.mmtts: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read M. Anne Maskey, O.S.F. Acting Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors Nov./Dec. 1987 Volume 46 Number 6 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to wm R~:t.t(:totJs; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave., Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from R~:vt~:w wm R~:tot~;totJs; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. Four Ecclesial Problems Left Unresolved Since Vatican II Martin R.Tripole, S.J. Father Tripole is an associate professor of th.eology at St. Joseph's University; Phila-delphia, Pennsylvania ! 913 !. He,wrote "Suffering with the Humble Chi'ist" for the March,April 1981 issue of this periodical. Catholic scholars have been.talking about crisis in the Catholic Church for so long a time now that almost everyone has gotten used to it. In fact, too many people have been saying there is a crisis for anyone to ignore the situation. But not everyone uses the term. It depends on whom you tall~ to. Until recently, the higher you went in the Church, the less likely you were to find admission of crisis. For example, Bishop Ja~mes Malone of Youngstown, Ohio, former president of the National conference of Catho-lic Bishops, submitted a report to the Vatican in the summer of 1985 on the state of the Church. in the United States since Vatican II, a report made in preparation for the Extraordinary Synod of Bishops that met in Rome November 25-December 8, 1985.:In his. report, Bishop Malone stated the Church in the United S(ates is "basically sound." The bishop made no mention of cri~is; instead he talked of "confusion" and "abuses" and "false ideas'" and "diffiC'ulties" in various areas of church life.~ While many praised th~report, it was also criticized as "looking at the Church in the United States through 'rose-colored glasses.' "2 But another high-level member of the clergy has no difficulty speak-ing of crisis. Joseph Cardinal' Ratzinger,. prefect of the Sacred Congre-gation for the Doctrine of the Faith, surely one of themost powe~rful of-ficials in tlie Vatican, made the ~tiscussion of crisis in the Church today 801 Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 the c.entr~l theme of his Ratzinger Report. This 1985' publicati6r~ of an exclusive interview given to an Italian journalist caught the attention of everyone and produced much controversy, in'view of the cardinal's strong views on the Church, as well as the fact that he published them just before the extraordinary synod was to be held. Ratzinger and his in-terviewer discourse at length on "a crisis of faith and of the Church," of "an identity crisis" in priests and religious, a "crisis of trust in the dogma," a "crisis of confidence in Scripture," a crisis "of the moral-ity. "In his summation of "the gravity of the crisis" in the Church since Vatican II, Ratzinger's tone is markedly different from Bishop Malone's. The interviewer cites views written by Ratzinger ten years earlier and con-firmed by him for the Report as still valid: It is incontestable that the last ten years have been decidedly unfavor-able for the Catholic Church . What the popes and the Couhcil Fa-thers were expecting was a new,Catholic unity, and instead one has en-countered a dissension which--to use the words of Paul Vl--seems to have pasg~d over from self-criticism to self-destruction . it has ended in boredom and discouragement . one found oneself facing a progressive process of decadence . [and] erroneous paths whose catastrophic consequences are already incontestable.3 Nevertheless, when the bishops came together at the extraordinary synod, they spoke of sharing in "mankind's present crisis and dramas" and of the "spiritual crisis., so many people feel" today, but not of an, y crisis of the Church as such. Less exfflt6d Catholic leaders, theologians, and publishers readily speak of crisis in the Church. The Rev. Robert Johnson, president of the National Federation of Priests' Councils, in 1985 stated: Priesthood is in crisis. The vocation of the ordained priest is not what it used to be. The data tells us that. Our own experience tells us that also. There is a crisis in numbers. At its zenith in 1970, the diocesan priesthood .in the United States numbered some 37,000. By the year 2000, it is estimated that this population will be 16,000 or 17,000. This would represent a declin.e of some 54%. i in the year 2000 we will have roughly the same number of priests we had in 1925. Meanwhile, the people we were ordained to serve will have quadrupled.4 Edward C. Herr, in a report on "The State of the Church," in 1985 stated that, whereas in a similar report in 1983 there were "hopes that a relatively stableoand tranquil period" was about to arrive in the Church, he must now report those hopes were "naive," that "the tensions and turmoil have increased and show no signs of ebbing."4A He reports the Four Ecclesial Problems recent findings of Dr. William J. McCready, program director of the Uni-versity of Chicago's National Opinion Research Center (NORC), that "a third of the 52 million Roman Catholics in America rarely or never go to church."5 Herr cites an article by James Hitchcock, professor of his-tory at St. Louis University, which lis~ed a catalo~g of ~'problems facing the Church in America" today: REligious orders openly pro.moting dissent Official Church agencies providing platforms for dissent ~"Radical redefinition of the traditional religious vows" Tolerance of "known violations" of chlibacy Growing influence of "militant homosexual network" in seminaries and religious orders Almost total collapse of seminary discipline "Probably a large majority of Catholic colleges hnd universities have become bffectively secular" Widespread deviations from "official liturgical norms" Majority of Catholic students no longer receive an adequate grounding in their faith Bishops and priests "largely refrain from teaching ,, disputed doctrines.' ,6 ~' Herr also reports the views of Richard Schoenherr, soc'iologist and asso-ciate dean at the University of Wisconsin at Madison in 1985, on "a cri-sis for the Church by the year 2000." Acc6rding to Herr, Schoenherr presents ~ a bleak picture of the Church-at the turn of the century. Opportunities to attend Mass will be fewer since each priest will have to serve 4,000 Catholics in a burgeoning Church; laity,.tired of a subordinate position in the Church, will withdraw from active leadership while those who do continue to serve will be laden with greater responsibility . There will be "an organizational crisis of immense proportion," accord-ing to Schoenherr, with an "ehormous youth drain in theministry," and with more "resigned" than active priests in the United States.7 Norbertine Father Alfred McBride, president of the University of Al-buquerque, also predicts a "ministry crisis" in 2000. He foresees a to-tal of 30,000 priests serving. 65 million Catholics.8 Finally., novelist Mor-ris West, author of many best-sellers on (~atholicism, is reported as see-ing the possibility of "a silent schism" in the Church of the future, as a result of "a defection of millioi~s by a-slow decline into indiffer-ence. ' ,9 Review, for Religious, November-December, 1987 The fact is: there has been talk of a crisis in the Church ever since the '60's--that per_iod which constitutes a kind of a turning point.in the life of the modern Church. That decade, from which date many of the issues whi~c,h 'trouble~the American Church today was equally a problemati~ decade for American society in gene,ra~l., and indeed for the world. In fact, the world is "officially" in a state of crisis---~f sorts. The bishops told us that at Vatican II when they stated the "human race is passing through a.new stag~ 0fits history" where it is undergoing "a true social and cultural transformation" causing a "crisis of gro~vth. "~0 The modern world is experiencing "new foLoas of social and p~sychologi-cai slavery" as well as "imbalances" that lead to "Mutual distrust, en-mities, conflicts, an~'hardships" (~audium el spes 4, 8). According to the bishops, this situation of crisis inevitably "has repercussions on man's religious life as~ well": it cause,s "spiritual agitation,"4"many peo-ple are shaken" in their convictions, and '~growing humbers~ of people are abandoning religion fin pr~actice" .(GS 5, 7). Later in the _same docu-ment, though in the context of a discussion on war and peace, the bish-ops speak of "the whole human family" as having "reached an hour of supreme crisis in its advance toward maturity" (GS 77). While the bishops at Vatican II did not go so far as to say directly that the Church was in a state of crisis, they certainly meant to say that the Church shared in the~crisis situation of the'world in ggneral. It was not long after, however, that writers.started speaking directly, of a crisis in the Church. We may note only a few. Father Andrew Greeley loudly proclaimed that as a fact in an important series of articles he published in diocesan newspapers in 1976; entitled "The Crisis in American Ca-tholicism" (and later in a book entitled Crisis in the Church),~ but the idea of ,the Church. in crisis had already quietly come into standard con-sideratiOn or was .soon to do so through the writings of such renowned historians, scrilSture scholars, and theologians as Raymond Brown, S.S. (B~blical Reflections on Crises Facing the C. hurch),~2 Richard P. McBr~en (he speaks of the "pre.sent crisis within the Catholic Church" in The Remaking oft~ Churcl~),~3 Avery Dulles, S.J. (fie sl~eaks of a "crisis of identity" in the Church in The Resilient Church), 14 and David J. O'Brien (h611spe~iks of the '~Catholic crisis," the "American crisis," and "an age Of crisis" in The Renewal of A. merican Catholicism).~5 Statistical~d~ta since the end of Vatican II--th~e latest reports of An-drew Greeley's National °Opinion Research Center in Chicago,~6 from George Gallup Jr.'s continuing analysis of the state of the Catholic Church in America,~7 and from the Notre Dame Study of Catholic Par- Four Ecclesial Problems /805 ish Life~8--provide overwhelming evidence, as far as statistical data is able to do so, that the American Catholic Church is in a state of crisis. ¯ Evidence: American Catholics no longer accept official teaching of the Church simply,on the basis of the fact that it is official teaching; Catho-lics no lbnger go to church, as much as ~hey used to, to fulfill their Sun-day obligation or from ~i sense of duty; they ~ai'e not contributing to the sti~iport of the Church.in a way consonant with their earnings; they are o~penly criticizing the Chui'ch in a way" that seems to i'epresent a new ¯ sense ol~ independence over agains~t the institutional Church" and its offi- Cial teachers. What is going on, and when will it end? Causes of Crisis Since Vatican II ,Numerous publications have been~ritteri since Vatican II seeking to determine the causes of the crisis Which has beset the Church since~that time. The fact is, the ca~iases are manifold, and only a, lhrge t0ine could hope to anal~,ze and cover them all thoroughl)~. What I attempt here is -'C0: fbcus on what I shall call four unresolved antinomi~ek which are re-flected in the thinking and practices of the Church since Va[i~an II. My point is to argue that the bishops at Vatican II not o~nly were aware o,f, but shgred in,. the theologically, antinomous viewpoints which have largely served to. polarize the Church sin.ce~ the end of the Council.° Though there is~ some exaggera~tion in categorizing these viewpoints quite simplyas conservative/traditionalist and liberal/progressivist, I shall do that for want of better terms, and also because the viewpoints do .tend to be of these two types. Though these terms have a political and ideo-logical connotation, their use here is not meant to imply that. What we,mean.by the use of these terms is that there are two oppos-ing movements working in the Church today. The first is inclined to want ,to preserve elements today which were also characteristic of the life of the Chtirch ~before Vatican II,-elements such as hierarchical authority, clerical priority, and institutional identity;~the second is more inclined toward~elements which arose in the life of the Church since Vatican II, elements such as democratic~procedures, equality of membership, unity based on shared convictions and shared authority. ,Neither group is. to-tally opposed to the values identified with the other, except at the outer fringes. Thus~extreme traditionalists---c~illed reactionaries wish no part of what~the Church since Vatican II has come to be identified with; ex-treme liberals~alled radicals--reject automatically whatever was promi-nent in the Church before Vatican II and yearn for a congregationalist type of community. For the larger membership in both groups, the prob- Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 lem is mainly one of emphasis: which set of values, which viewpoint should ,be the dominant one in the .life of the Church?. That question of emphasis is a serious one. In spite of the fact that it is only a question of emphasis, it leads in practice to polarization. Re-cent events in .the .life of the Church.have increased this experience of polarization rather than diluted it, mainly because the traditionalist camp, which had largely fallen into the ~silent majority in ~the Church .in the post- Vatican II peri0d, has gained a new sense of power in the last ten yehr~s. The struggle between these two, groups is now, in my opinion, at the most intense point of conflict the Church has felt since the early pp,s~t- Vatican II days of the Church. What, if anything, can be done to reduce this polarization? I wish in this article only to point to what I consider the four major areas of po-larization which were left unresolved by Vatican II. They continue to re-main largely unresolved by the post-Vatican II Church, even after the Ex-traordinary Synod of 1985, and they need to be resolved before the po-larization can b6 overcome:~I~ t me discuss each of these areas singly_, and at some length:. Saci~ed ~vs."Si~cular ' The" Catholic Church has had a strong sense of social responsibility throughout the modern era., as shown in a history of concern forrectify-ing inhumane workihg conditions, unjust wages, and unfair labor prac- .tices, starting at least with Leo XIII's Rerum Novarum: On the Condi-tioh of Workers (1891). Nevertheless, there is no doubt that a new and profound theological significance has been given to the role of the Church in regard to such matters since Vatican II. Prior to Vatican II, social activity was generally considered to be peripheral to the primary ¯ work o(the Church, to administer the s~icraments and preach the gospel of salvation in Christ. With Vatican II, the Church seemed to be saying that the .social apostolate was as important to the life of the Church as these two other activities. .A major transformation in the relationship of the Church to the world got underway at Vatican II. The .Chur~hnow saw itself not only right-fully but also dutifully bound to bring the insight and power of the gos-pel into the .arena of world problems, in the hope of changing th~ un-holy conditibns and direction of the life'of the world from within. Church concern for such issues was obvious ifi the countless conventions and publicat!ons on social, political, and moral issues that sprang up in the post-Vatican II era. Most notable was the conference by the Latin Ameri-can bishops at Medellin, Colombia, in 1968, which registered a strong Four Ecclesial Problems / 807 commitment by Latin American bishops to Overcoming the problems of the poor and oppressed in their countries; and the international Synod of Bishops in Rome in 1971, which published the historic document Jus-tice in the World, which, "Scrutinizing the signs of the times.ai~d seek-ing to detect the meaning of emerging history," concluded that "Ac-tion on behalf of justice and participation in the transformation of the world fully appear to us as a constitutive dimension of the preaching of the Gospel, or, in other words, of the Church's mission for the redemp-tion of the human race and its liberation from every oppressive situ-ation." 19 One of the 9learest examples of how important the new thrust into social and political matters would be forthe American Church may be seen from a 1981 publication of the U.S. Catholic Conference enti-tledA Compendium of Statements of the United States Catholic Bishops on the Political and Social Order. It takes 487 pages to cover the docu-ment~ ition from 1966 .to 1980, which includes statements on "war and peace, development, and human rights," as ~eil as "~tbo~tion, birth con-trol, Call to Action (the U.S. Bishops' Bic~htennial Consultation on So-cial Justice), crime'and punishment, economic issues, family life, free-dom of religion, housing, immigrants, labor disputes, minorities, race, rural America, and television."2° More recently the United States bish-ops have taken forthright and controversial stands ori the matters of war and peace and the American economy,'the former in their pastoral.letter The Challenge of Peace: God's Promise~and Our Response (May 3, 1983), the latter in their Economic Justice foroAll~" Catholic Social Teach-ing and the U.S. Economy (November 13, 1986). In each case the bish-ops argue to. the implications of the gospel message, singling out the im-morality of nuclear warfare or the scandalous operations, in the Ameri-can economic system. The full implications of these strong teachings have yet to be determined. ~, All of this would be cause fo'~ unmitigated joy, were it not for the fact that with. this new emphasis UpiSn the social implications of the Gos-pel, something transcendent in the' gospel teaching may have been lost. One :of the major problems in the life of the.Church since Vatican II, according to the bishops at the Extraordinary Synod of 1985, has been the lack of recognition and acceptance of a sacral or theological depth to the Churcti's life--what the synod calls the "mystery" of the Church. The bishops .take responsibility for the fact that this dimension of Churcfi life has been undermined, especially among young people, by a too secu-lar conception of the .Church as a mere human institution. The bishops assert: ~ I~Oll / Review for Religious~ ~November-December, 1987 , a unilateral'presentation of:the 13hurch as a purely institutional structure devoid of her mx.stery has been made. We~are probably not immune from all respon, sibility for th.e fact that, especially the young consider the Chur~ch a pure institution. Have we not perhaps favored this opinion in them by speaking ~too much of the i'enewal Of the Church's external struc-tures and too little of God a'hd of Christ? The bisl~ops admit ~that in their eagerness to open the. Church to the ~,orld they h, ave~qot suffici,ently di~tinguishe.d legitimate openness to the world from a secularization of the Church by the world: From time to time there has also been a lack of the~discernment of spir-' its, with~the failure to correctly distinguish between a legitimate open-ness of the council to the world and ~the acceptance of a secularized ¯ world's mentality and order of~values, . . . An easy accommodation that could lead to the secularizmion of the Church is to be excluded. /(ls0 excluded is an immobile closing in upon itself of the community of the faithful. Affirmed instead is a'missionary openness for the inte-gral salvation of the wo~ld.21 ~ Part of the problem has been the Church's eagerness to,enter the social arena with calls for social justice. While it is vital to the Church to em-phasize ~an active concern for social issues, the Church's concern for these issues should not become so great that it loses sight of .the fact that its deepest life is lived in "mystery" as the Church o_f God, and that the Church is ultimately made,up of the community"of the redeemed in Christ serving his mission of salvation: The primary mission of the Church, under the impulse of the Holy Spirit, is to preach and to witness to the good and joyftil news of the election, the mercy and the charity of God which manifest themselves in salvation history, which through Jesus Christ reach their culmination in the fullness of time and which communicate and offer salvation to man by virtue of the Holy Spir.it. Christ is,the light of humanity. The Church, proclaiming the Gospel, must see to it that this light clearly shines out from her.countenance (ibid., p. 446). Social activism without that sacral 'dimension risks becoming purely secu-lar and human; such activity is totallymconsistent with the life of the Church, however good such acti~ism might otherwise be. To the extent that secularization in its various forms has happened in theChurch since Vatican II, something.inconsistent with what the Church should be arisen .in the community. To restore, a proper~balance, the Church .needs.to'reaffirm the primacy of its religious commitment, and to let that commitment shine before the Four, ,Ecclesial Problems, world.Only.,in the clarity of that commitment conveyed to the.world through its members is it able to seek effective ways of changing the world. These in turn must see themselves as having a primary mission to prove to the world the validityof the sacra~l o trranscendent dimen-sion of life as conveyed in the mission of Chrisi. ~n this respecti0ne not ov~erestimate the importance of Vatican II's and' the s~,nod's ne~ly developed and reaffirmed theology 6f the~ laity~ by Which thdrole of the laity in the.promotion of Christian and human values in.,the wo~ld is heightened ai~d theologically validated. Christians need also to find a way to counte~ract, the.increasing intru-sion ~of the power of the secul.ar into their. 9wn lives. To my mind, there is.no ,way for the Church more dramatically and decisively to restore the primacy, of the faith experience to Christian diving than emphatically to reassert its importance in the personal commi,tment to Christ. The "pas-sion"-, for Christ and the commitme~.t, to God's plan for the world in Christ .have too often been put on the back burner as we enter into the discussion of the problems of the world and seek to resolve them from within, using the naturalistic and,humanistic standards and instruments of action the world is often quite willing at least in,the~i~y to accept. But these are not enough for the Church. We must once again~become "p.as-sionately" committed to Christ and his purposes, and openly manifest to the world that it is primarily these for ~tii~h we stand, If the transcendent dimension, to life is rea!ly crucial to the well-being of the world and~therefore must bepreserved, it will have to come from deeply religiously-committed Christians. For them to be found in any great number, however, a new zeal for Christ and his purposes must be restored. The Church, and especi.ally its leaders both lay and religious, have no greater challenge today. Whether the zeal. necessary to restore the sense of the religious dimension to life in the,world chn be found, however, is not easily answered. Somehow we Christians shall have to enter more deeply into Ourselves, to find out if we really, share strongly a commitment tO Christ and his visi0fi °of the world and ~re willirig to make ~the sacrifices demanded o~°us as we enter into /~ ~riaarketplace al-ready increasingly intolerant of his vie~. W~"shall not~have the impact necessary to the success of the Christian vision merely,, by exporting Chris-tian values in a secularized form. The world does not need to know there is a need for justice nearly so much as it needs t6 kno.w that justice is a dimension of the faith experience in Christ.To seek to alleviate the cries of the poor in social action is really~not the, Christian~mission; rather, our mission is to bring to the poor the vision of~hrist, con- Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 sciously known and passionately calling all people to a commitment to him and to the consequences of that commitment in a life of faith and service. Innovation vs. Traditi6n Th~re is a second, inner-Church conflict to be resolved: between the new and the _old, between innovatidn and tradition. Vatic~'n II met at a crucial point in the life of the Church, when Catho-lic liberal~ were calling for reform while the conservatives wanted to stand by tradition. The bishops who came together represented both view-points. In the final documents they deliberately attempted ~ to draw to- . gether elements from th~ thinking 6f both. camps, hoping to blend their opposing viewpoints.enough to satisfy the desires of each. Apparently both sides were willing to accept compromise. Both also recognized that total consistency was impossible at that time there was simply not enough time to work out the niceties of perfect harmonization, nor was it necessarily desirable. It surely"was expected that the ongoing life of the Church, especially in the work of the theologians under the direc-tion of the bishbps, would work out any incongruities or inconsistencies in thought or prac'tice that ~ight be left over from the Council. And so the Council ended. But as one reporter put it: Yet the Counci'l's efforts to assimilate modernity and still be true to a 2000-year tradition also created the potential for vast misunderstanding. The Council called upon the Church to uphold, simultaneously, freedom and orthodoxy, culturalopenness and identity, change and continuity, modernity and tradition, hierarchy and participation. That is a tall or-der. 22 Avery Dulles, S.J~,.,asks the question that emphasizes the inevitability of the p~:o.b_lem.: Can a Church that simul.taneously moves in thes~ contradictory direc-tions. keep enough homogeneit~y to remain a single social body? . . . Can the Church adopt new symbols, languages, structures and behav-ioral patte .ms 6n a massive scale without losing continuity with its own origins and its ow.n pa~t? (ib!d.) Any break from tradition for any organization necessarily leads to con-fusion. But this would have been a problem even more for the Catholic Church because the break was so abrupt.and deep. Before the Council, many Catholics had~ accepted ex.aggerated acquiescence to unchange as a theological truism, with little or no sense of the role_of history in. the formation'of dogma and Church practice: Because all Church statements Four Ecclesial Problems / I~11 hadotended to be regarded as dogma unquestioningly to be accepted, obe-diential deference to authority was orthodox; freedom ofthbught, unor-thodox independence. Suddenly, after Vatican II, what had been consid-ered un-Catholic was espoused as good Catholicism. Whereas acceptance of lohg-standing traditions was the n~irm for acceptableoCatholic living prior to Vatican II.; now freedom of thought and openness to new ideas and individual conscience became acceptable. This break with tradition, l~owever, was not simply a break from the old frr the neff, but a rever-sal from standards recognizing something as unacceptable to standards recognizing the same as acceptable and even desirable.,Thus ~0nfusion, disagreement, and fallout were inevitable. Also, it is inevitable t'h~t all this leads to a deeper question: what does it mean to be a Catholic and to have the faith? ' There i~ no doubt a wide spectrum of viewpoints regarding'the theo-logica! role of innovatiori vs. that of tradition, and What, if any, the proper combination ofothe two might be. But in certain areas there is cr'rn~ mon consensus and in other areas a lack of consehsus. There is growing consensus that the break with past traditions ~vas too abrupt and that there is a ;need,to retui'n to some past symbols an'd traditions withou~ renouncing everything new. At the time of the Ameri-can bicentennial, John Coleman, S.J., called for an ""open-ended re-sourcement," a dialogue or "creative engageme,nt" between the tradi-tional Catholic sYmbols and new ones that wouldopen up. or adapt to "new purposes, experiences and questions" in an integrating "process of g~:owth."23 More recently, Greeley has also called for a return to the "experience~' and-"imagination" .ofoour "Catholic her!tage" so re-cently abandoned as either irrelevant or impeding ecumenism or incom-patible with the modem world. Greeley understands Catholicism .to,stress the "sacramental" presence of the divine in Christian living, and says that this sacramental "religious style" should now be recognized as of the "essence" of the Catholic "insight," andan invaluable feature of the Catholic approach to religio.n.24 ,~There is growing consensus that there is widespread ignorance of the fundamental teachings of Christianity, especially among Xhe young, and that the problem must be addressed quickly. In an effort ~to make Chris-tianityrelevant to our lives, we shifted too quickly from the rigorous for-malism of the catechism and the memorization of. its teachings to dia-log'oe about the lived experience of the faith. What we lost was a solid understanding of what that faith believed, What is called for today is not necessarily the catechism method, but wtiatever method(s) may be nec- Review for Religiousl November-December, 1987 essary .to restore'to its rightful place knowledg6 about the history of sal-vation in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. A common foun-dation'in,, faith teachings may make it. possible to fost.er conviction, com-mitment, and action. ~ There is lack of consensus on the role of authority in the Church; on the role of the clergy, as well as the Church itself, in social and political activity; and on the degree of freedom to be allowed to personal con-scienc.~ e, espec,ially in matters that do not pe~ain directly to formal dogma in the Church, such 9s moral theology and mattgrs of sex. However rig-orous! y.~,~.ne might uphold the tea, chings of the Church on artificial c~?n7 tracept~ion., few would consider the Church's teachings on the matter as infallibly proclaimed. If that is the case, what degree of disagreement. o if any, is per.missible? In such cases, how much room i~ to be given for private conscience, or for public teaching not fully in accord with offi-cial pronouncements of the Church? VatiEan II clearly gave great weight tO~the right of personal conscience and to scholhrsh!p regarding nonin-fallible teachings, but how far did it intend these°rights'to go? Innova-tors tend toward absolute freedom on noninfallible teachings, traditioii'- ~lists° toward compliance even there. Thes.e,ideologica! disagreements cofistitute adeep source of divisioff in the Chi~rch .today, and represent today's ~xperience of what it means wheri the old clashes with the new~ The Church has yet to come up with a~th~blogy thgt can provid6 an adequate e~clesiology to handle this prob- Compatibility Vs~ Contradiction with,,the World ° There is a third ,problem not adequately resolved by Vatican II; which returns once again to'th~e:relationship of the Church to the world: the prob-lem between compatibility of.the Church with the world ~ahd contradic-tian with it? Prior to VatiEan II, the Church had never published an official docu-ment expounding,a posiiive theology on the'r01e of the Church,-in the world. Traditionally, the world had been an arena of evil or temptation to evil. ISatholics were urged to.remove themselves from the.world if they wished to ,attain sanctity, and the priestly and religious life were com-monly acceptrd as means to that end. Those who needed to become, in: volved in the Wodd;~choosing to remain laypersons,' were allowed to ~be in the world, but .were expected to' be as unworldly as possible in0the midst of the world: Evefi though Christians learned very well how to, live in~ the world by accepting ,itk ~,alues,~ and acquired the world ~s commodi-ties as instruments of well-being and standards of0success,.this accom- Four Ecclesial Problems modi~tion was often done with a feeling of guilt. That the world Was bad was based on the clear teaching of Christ: his followers did~not belong to the world, the world hated the'm, Christ did not take them out,of the wbi'ld but asked the"Father to "guard them from the evil one" in' the world (Jn 17:14-15) until they would one day be united with the Father in heaveh. ~ Now with Vatican II, the Church turned toward the world and, in many ways, accepted th~ world for the first time. Th6 Council Asserted the Church's "sOlidarity with the entire human family," that "nothing genuinely human" is foreign to Christians, that the "joys and the hopes, the griefs hn~l the anxieties of the men of this are" are those of the fol-lowers ofChrist too (LG 1-3). The Council urged Christians to build up the world because "the triumphs of the human race are a sign of God's greatness dnd the flowering of His own haysterious design" (34). In a remarkable affirmation of the value of secular activity, the Cou0cil "ac-knowledges that human progress can serve man's true happiness" (37) and that, insofar as "Earthly progress., can contribute to~the better ordering of human society, it is of vital concern to the kingdom of God" (39). The Council admits~ the world can be "an instrument of sin" and that a "monumental struggle against the power of darkness pervades the whole history of man" (37). Nevertheless, when all is said and done, the emphasis is clearly optimistic--so much so that, when~Karl Barth came back from his visit to Rome during the Council's first session, he expressed a fear the bishops were bbcoming too optimistically oriented toward the World and suggested they take a miare guarded position. And so the question remains: Is the world a good thing, to be ac-cepted and integrated inio the life of the Christian, or isqt to be rejected because it is infected with sin? The Council urged both; 6f course, but failed to indicate how both were possible, or how and where to draw the line limitinginvolvement~: More importantly, however, the new spirit bf the Coiancil had clearly left the impression that theworld a's a whole had been sanctioned as a .giaod thing :and that, with Christian and human co-operation and goodwill, there ~vas no reason why the Church and'the World could not easily become assimilated to each other. The question ofqntegration into the life of the world versus opposi-tion trthe world in favor of Christian values'is not a re'rent one. As.Ger-main Gri~ez recently pointed out, much of the history of Christianity can be seen in terms of a "tension between legitimate ~ispirations frr human and this-worldly fulfillment and God's c~ll to divine and everlasting life.'" Depending upon the emphasis that is greater at any 0h~ torment Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 in Christian thinking, the tendency may be to emphasize "disrespect for the 'merely,' human" and emphasize fulfillment in God, or, as seems to be. happening ~toda);, to emphasize a reaction against other-worldly spiri-tuality, a reaction which has '~crystal!ized into various forms of secular humanism." VaticanlI failed to take a stand on this issue, according to Grisez, or more precisely, not knowing how to resolve the tensign be-tween the two tendencies, glossed over them "with ambiguous formu-las." Instead of acknowledging their inability to resolve the problem and implementing a postconciliar process to work on it, the Council Fathers, caught up themselves in the spirit of optimism generated by John XXIII, chose to try to "maintain ,the appearance of unity" and solidarity on this issue and departed. Afterwards, liberals and conservatives began to read in the documents exactly what each had been looking for and ignoring the. opposite, and used whatever political means were available to have their own position dominate. The need now, according to Grisez, is to face up, to the divisions and try to resolve them.25 Others have stressed very pointedly that the orientation of the world today is strongly toward values quite inconsistent with Christian values. The world today is bombarded by powerful influences from the media, which emphasize for commercial purposes a humanism void of religious direction, which preach success in terms of materialistic values and goals such as accumulation of power and money, which proclaim fulfillment of self in terms of satisfaction of sexual drives rather than in love as per-manent commitment to the other, which evaluate persons in terms of utili-tarian norms, whiCh promote personal satisfaction as the criterion for the worth of all activity, which make the ultimate goal of life the achieve-ment of self rather than the donation of self. In such a ,world, there is inevitable contradiction between the values of the world and those of the Christian faith experience, where personal communion with Christ in a community of believers serving the well-being of all is. the standard of value. The humanistic orientation of a world without religious direction risks becoming ultimately a purely worldly humanism antagonistic to Christian values. For many, the opposition is so great at the .present time that, it seems to be moving toward total and absolute contradiction of the values of Christ. The Council Fathers, in recognizing the need to open the Church to the world, did not indicate strongly enough the nature or degree of this opposition, although it must be admitted 'that, even when they did indicate opposition, their words were largely ignored. But ~as Grisez indicates, the opposition is there and must.be faced. By failing to indicate strongly enough the contradiction between the values of the Four Ecclesial Problems / I~15 world and those of Christ, the Council Fathers unwittingly made accom-modation with the ways of the world that much easier. It is that accom-modation that the Extraordinary Synod of 1985 began totry to correct, but a clear theology of contradiction, is still needed. Active vs. Passive Church Life The last root cause of the problems left by Vatican II may be ex-plained in terms of Vatican II's failure to resolve the conflict between the active and passive dimensions of Christian life. A new spirit of involvement in social and political action, as we have seen, had been emphasized by the Council as an element intrinsic to the life of the Church. This spirit was highly attractive for many reasons: It was new and new things tend to attract; it was optimistic and people tend to like optimism; it was a free and open spirit cgnsequent upon the new theology of the laity, and .more appealing than the more traditional litur-gical and doctrinal elements in Vatican II; it spoke to a strong desire in the '60's to become actively involved in the processes of history rather ttrhaanns ftoor macaqtuioiens ocfe tihne twheomrld; itth naot tw oansl~y h purmovaindlyed e nthgeinoereertiecda,bl usut palpsoor jtu fsotir- a fied it as providing greater fulfillment of the human potential. In all these ways, this new element of "activism" contra~ted so much with the traditional call for restraint on involvement, and spoke di-rectly to many Catholics who were interested in joining the world in a combined divine-human creative.proje.ct. These were delighted to find there was theological justification and ecclesial approval for using one's talents in such a project. Personal involvement and responsibility for cre-ating one's own life in the world spoke more readily to the post-Vatican II age.than acquiescence in the decisions, actions, and authority of oth-ers. At least in the '60's, the mentality of the outspoken members of the Church was increasingly liberal, and the .idea of creating one's future rather than submitting to it was especially appealing to them. Vatican II sanctioned these ideas. It emphasized the theological importance of life in the world and active involvement in the cause of justice and equality, and was to give rise to a dominance after Vatican II of theological move-ments that stressed that same type of involvement. The Church was now also in a position to accept many currents rising in western Protestant cir-cles, such as the new theology of hope and political theology, the theol-ogy of revolution, and finally, in Catholic circles in South American, lib-eration theology. By emphasizing active involvement in creative transformation of the worid, Vatican II unfortunately seemed to downgrade th'e old and less Review for Rel~gious,~ November-December, 1987 captivating styles of spirituality, such as personal prayer, contemplation, and spiritual communion with God alone and in the quiet of one's room. It became increasingly difficult in modern Catholicism to justify a spiri-tual dimension to !ife unless it was translated into active change of the world. Spiritual terminology began to take on a purely active meaning: prayer, commitment to Christ, concern for the salvation of human be-ings '~ all these meant to be in active involvement in the world. Monas-tic theology and asceticism .were seriously questioned, for how could any-one iustify removing on~eself from the world when the only important thing wffs to change the world for the better? Those who dared to speak of contemplatio~n or asceticism in tli'e more traditional ways were often seen as outdated and to be pitied for their archaic ways. The new theol-ogy of spiritual activism slowly took over contrbl of the major or-ganizations in the Church: religious orders, diocesan and parish coun-cils, and other Catholic agencies~' and a new theology of social and po-litical activism translating most or all of Catholic spirituality into causes for peace and justice in the world held sway, The few who dared to criti- "cize these movements as one-sided were ignored. Ct~riously; the more this ~ctivism was promoted as the new and en-lightened foi:m of Christian living, the ~ore vocations to the priestly and religious life went down. The major exception to this trend~was in relig-ious orders, especially of nuns, where the stress On traditional piety was retained--here vocations continued to ~rise or remain stable. But few dared to suggest that this validated'in any way maintaining some room for more traditional contemplative and other-worldly forms of spiritual-ity. " Only recent!y has' it begun to dawn on many that activism without passivism is un-Christian. A spirituality that is t~otally activated tod, ard htlman creation of the world is inconsistent with Christian teaching, which, while s![essing human~involvement in God's creation 6f the king-dom; stresses even more that we are ~saved bec~iuse we have been saved in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. We receive God,s kingdom far more than we create it. If that is the case, a Christian spirituality of ascetical contemplation is important to the Church because it lives as well as symbolizes the importance of this pass.!ve involvement in God's crea-tive process. Coleman ohce wrote: It is helpful to consider some of the cultural paradoxes in contemporary American Catholicism. In a nation n6ted for its one-sided, if not patho-logical, emphasis on activism, instrumental rationality, and opt'imistic pragmatism,, Catholic intellectuals seem to have suffered a bout of am- Four Ecclesial Problems nesia about their classic wisdom concerning contemplation, mysticism, pas.sivity, and receptive acceptance of inevitable and unavoidable lim-its. The Church. in its American incarnation has become almost ex-clusively masculine, with dominant concerns for action, success, build-ing the new e~trth and results (Coleman, p. 553). Christopher Mooney, S.J., argues that in America God rather than hu-man beings was always understood as "the power of our future," the one "from whom the nation had received its mission," and the one "~who works through the structures of society and manifests himself in publi~ affairs." Without that emphasis upon the centrality of God in his-tory, America will lose its sense of destiny.26 Dulles gives personal sup-port to those who argue that "the Kingdom of God is viewed in the New Testament as God's work, not man's," that the Church "is seen as ex-isting for the glory of God and of Christ, and for the salvation of its mem-bers in a life beyond the grave," and that in the New Testarfient it "is not suggested that it is the Church's task to make the world a better place to live in."27 Harvey Egan, S.J., argues that Christians today face "the serious temptation of worsh.iping political pressure groups, causes, move-ments, slogans, and ideo]ogies," and that their social involvement "de-generates into 'pseudo-activism' " unless it is built upon "authentic in-ner freedom, contemplative peace'; spiritual insight, the love born from prayer, integration, and inner transforrnati6n."28 " What we are asserting, then, is that Vatican II, in its effort to sanc-tion involvement in the life of the world as a legitimate dimensio~ of Christian living, unwittingly tended to downgrade the more contempla-tive, prayerful dimension of'Christian and Catholic spirituality. To that extent, Vatican II opened the doors too widely toward the world and pro-vided a gateway to the development of a secular humanism in contem-porary Catholic life. " Christian humanism without.a strong"spiritual foundation in a prayer-ful dependence upon God and his revelation in Jesus Christ is inevitably doomed to secularism. Once that stage is attained, it is inevitable that Christians begin to question whether there is any valid distinction be-tween Christianity and secular ac.tivism; andsince, once this aberration sets in, there is no real distinction between the two, it is only natural that many Christians find the faith experience unrewarding. It is only in the strength given Christianity by its passive dimension that its activist di-mension has any purpose or will to endure. Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 Conclusibn We have argued that at least in these four ways Vatican II left us a spirituality that is ambiguous, in conflict with itself, and undirected. This may indeed have been the Council's intention." To some extent, the Ex-traordinary Synod of 1985 served a valuable purpose in attempting to rec-tify these imbalances and ambiguities. It took twenty-five years to real-ize the bad effects and what needed to be corrected. Nevertheless, the ambivalences we have itemized .still reside in the Church and account for much of the conservative-liberal polarization of today. The next stage will be for the Church to reconvene and resolve the ambiguities. It will be an amazing and groundbreaking Council when it does. NOTES I "Vatican II and the Postconciliar Era in the U.S. Church," Origins 15, 15 (Sep-tember 26, 1985), pp. 225,233. 2 Vivian W. Dudro, "Toward the Synod: General Praise, Some Criticism of Malone Report," National Catholic Register 61, 39 (September 29, 1985), pp. l, 8. The reporter make~ reference to an expression used by Gerrnain Grisez, Professor of Chris-tian Ethics at Mount St. Mary's College, Emmitsburg, MD. 3 Joseph Cardinal RatZinger with Vittorio Messori, The Ratzinger Report (San Fran-cisco: Ignatius, 1985), pp. 44, 55, 71, 74, 83, 62, 29-30. '~ In "The Catholic Priesthood," Overview 19, 10 (undated [August 1985]), p. I, citing a report in NFPC:News Notes, March 1984. aA Overview, May. 1985, p. 1. 5 Overview, June 1985, p. 1, citing a report in New ~'ork Times December 9, 1984. 6 Ibid., p. 2. The 'article was in National ReviewS" November 25, 1983. 7 Overview, May 1985, p. 5. Herr is citing an article by Mary K. Tilghman in The Catholic Review of March 20, 1985. The words are Tilghman's except for the quo-tation from Schoenherr on the "?rganizational crisis." 8 Ibid., p, 6. 9 Ibid., p. 3. 10 Walter M. Abbott, S.J., ed., The Documents of Vatican II (New York: Guild, 1966): "Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modem World" or Gaudium et spes sec. 4 and 5; hereafter, Latin titles used and noted in text. i1 Thomas More, 1979. 12 Paulist, 1975. 13 Harper & Row, 1973, p. 71. 14 Doubleday, 1977, p. 12. 15 Paulist, 1972, citing an article he wrote as early as 1967. ' 16 Greeley's first controversial conclusions were published in Catholic Schools in a Declining Church, with William C. McCready and Kathleen McCourt (Kansas City: Sheed & Ward, 1976); his latest is American Catholics Since the Council: An Un-authorized Report (Chicago: Thomas More, 1985). 17 Gallup publishes yearly reports on Religion in Americh, and has just completed (with Jim Castelli) The American Catholic People: Their Beliefs, Practices, and Val-ues (Garden City: Doubleday, 1987). Four Ecclesial Problems 18 Eight reports from this invaluable study of "core Catholic" parishioners' think-ing and practices hav~ been published so far, appearing in Origins from December 27, 1984, to August 28, 1986. 19 In Justice in the Marketplace: Collected Statements of the Vatican and the U.S. Catholic Bishops on Economic Policy, 1891-1984, David M. Byers, ed. (Washing-ton, DC: NCCB/USCC, 1985), pp. 249-250. 20 Quest for Justice: A Compendium. , J. Brian Benestad and Francis J. Butler, eds. (Washington, DC: NCCB/USCC, 1981), pp. v-vi. 21 Synod of Bishops: "The Final Report," Origins 15, 27 (December 19, 1985), pp. 445,449. 22 E. J. Dionne, Jr., "The Pope's Guardian of Orthodoxy," New York Times Maga-zine, November 24, 1985, p. 45. 23 John A, Coleman, S.J., "American Bicentennial, Catholic Crisis," America, June 26, 1976, p. 553. 24 Andrew M. Greeley and Mary Greeley Durkin, How to Save the Catholic Church (New York: Viking, 1984), pp. xviii-xix, 35, passim. 25 Germain and Jeannette Grisez, "Conservatives, liberals duel over leaking barque," National Catholic Reporter 22, 5 (November 22, 1985), p. 14. 26 Christopher F. Mooney, S.J., Religion and the American Dream: The Search for Freedom under God (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1977), pp. 35-36. 27 Avery Dulles, S.J., Models of the Church (Garden City: Doubleday, 1974), pp. 94-95. 28 Harvey D~ Egan, S.J., Christian Mysticism: The Future of a Tradition (New York: Pueblo, 1984), p. 234. The Autumn Years: A Touch of God Joseph M. McCloskey, "S.J., and M. Paulette Doyas, S.S.N.D. Father McCloskey is Director of Shalom House-Retreat Center; P.O. Box 196; Montpelier, Virginia 23192. Sigier Paulette teaches at the College of Notre Dame; 4710 N. Charles Street; Baltimore, Maryland 21210. Autumn colors stimulate our aesthetic sense. Leaves grown old are beau-tiful to behold, a truth of creation that gives dying its own color. In, our later years our activities are like autumn leaves before they fall to the ground; each one is a jewel in our crown, worn with pride but sometimes hard to see against the perspective of a cold winter. Winter follows autumn; it is the winter we fear. Winter allows us to view the forest of our lives without being lost. in details. The forest stripped of its foliage, our lives are open to scrutiny; unencumbered by duties, we have the chance to really see ourselves. But autumn, with its warnings of dying, allOws us to look at winter with a hope of new birth. Autumn brings a special brand of happiness which belongs to God and is worth reflecting upon. Our autumn years do not have to be unhappy ones if we appreci-ate the meaning of our lives. No one likes to think about growing older, yet the truth is, we have been aging since conception. There is no es-caping autumn; growing older can bring colorful changes into our lives even if we must yield to a certain amount of inactivity. Love frees the spirit. Alienation brings loss of heart and dims our ap-preciation of life. Passion for life belongs to love, yet the passion for life wanes and we yearn for something more when we feel ourselves no longer needed. The mid-life crisis is a taste of what is to come as we ex-perience doubts about our work and what we have been doing with our lives. Glory, honor, and power are perpetual temptations of life, even when we are not sure just what it is we want. We struggle to hold on 820 The Autumn Years / 821 t~J the possibility and potential of doing something wonderful. As We be-come tired of trying to'h61d on and despair cofifronts us, we finally real-ize that life has-a meaning--being in God. "When we finfilly face the meaning of life, the idea of sitting on a porch watc.hing the rest of the world go by.does not have to seem terri-ble. The autumn years are su~ounded by the storms of others' activities and the job still gets done even when we are no longer bearing the brunt of the heat of the-day. As 'we watch the jobget done, we cab laugh at ourselves for all the times we pictured ours61ves as indispensable. We db not have to identify who we are by what we do. We identify ourselves by not doing; we may be retired. The constant round of activities which ful~d Our lives'belongs to those who follow. ~The fruitful year~ of.prbd~ictio~ ~nd hyp~'activity seem unreal as we watch them'in others.The mystic in life touches us; we watch, like con-templatives in prayer sitting on our autumn veranda, the storm of God's love come up in the for.m~ 6f others' work. God bring.s beauty into our lives as we appreciate what others Ho. 'People need our affirmation a~ad appreciation. L'ife is not over because wecan no longer do, it is just be-ginning. Today is the first_day of the rest of our lives, no matter how old we are. Traumatized by thoughts of our past, we can miss the colors of now. Anxious ,about tomorrow, we are sometimes only half present to what we are dbing. E~;en as yesterday can dampen our enthusiasm in what w~ are doing, anxiety over tomorrow can keep us from being fullyi.nvolved now. We live in an age of. activity and our .minds resemble motor boats, chugging noisily over the wavesof what must be done. There has to be a po.int where we cut the m0tor, give up the noises we make, and just glide, delighting in the freedom of knowing that our work may be almost finished. As we grow older, spirituality can give meaning to the lessen-ing activity in our lives. Slowing down without feeling worthless is what spirituality can help us.do.,No ~matter how old we are, idleness can threaten self-worth. We become :victims ,of our own doing, as thoughts of What we could, do to make our lives worthwhile prod us to keep go-ir~ g: "If we stop, that magic momentof doing something great may be missed." Pushing ourselves t6 exhaustion, we do not have time for our-selves now. We fail to apigreciate what we are right now. Unusual are the autumn souls, really alive t6dayin the richness of yesterday's expe-rience, y6t still open to tomorrow's vision of life with new meaning. Many still search for the secret of iife--f6und in living wholeheartedly 822/Review for Religious, Novemb.er-December, 1987 the fullness of now--in some nebulous fountain of youthful actiyity. We need to open ourselves up to'where we are and who we are right now. Spirituality's ultimate goal consists in seeing God face to face. This means "being" with God. All of life, everything we have ever done, everything we have ever been, is a preparation.that we might "be." Be-ing does not imply vegetating. There is a responsibility to b~ for one an-other attached to being for Christ. Whatever. we do for the least one of our brothers or sisters, even when we are not aware of doing it for Christ, is accepted by, him as bei.ng done for himself. In identifying himself as the "I am who I am" God, God reveals himself as reachable in the here and now. The only moment in time truly real is now, touching the "Eternal Now." Living in the now, for even a moment of time, garners those nows of life when we opened our hearts to being loved. These moments become sacramental. We live the "Sac-rament of the Present Moment." 'There are seven sacraments that the Church recognizes as special moments in life where Christ wants to be present in our lives and is giving himself. In these sacraments of the Church, Christ does the work. In the sacrament of the present moment we can make a moment sacramental by our ~illingness tb make Christ present frr each otlaer.° Living in the present, with what good there is, frees us of what anchors us to the past. Because it only takes a moment to love for a lifetime, we have tliE poss!bility of being Christ lovers by giving of who we are to the least person we meet, in any moment of our lives. We are children of the Father. God takes us as his own because we are precious to him. The Psalms tell tls that.: "Before you were born, I knew you!" (Ps 139). We are loved because Of who we are even be-fore we had accomplishments to boast of. Saint Paul teaches us in Ephe-sians 1 : 1-13 that God' s love is deserved in the goodness of Christ. Christ is our Way and our Truth and our.Life. Saint John's first epistle on Love teaches us that .all of life is a preparation for the opening of our hearts, now, to the fullness of the Lord of Life coming into our hearts. All of life is a preparation for this very moment We are living! Wisdom brings knowledge of how to live in God's love, and the contemplative in action lives in God's love by letting God ,work one hundred percent. Doing in God's love becomes being in his love. What becomes of paramount im-portance is how much love we.can accept in Christ, and how much Christ we live for God and each other in return. ~ Being does not happen jus.t because we are old enough. Incapacita-tion is always a possibility when being is thrust upon us. Being is maxi- The Autumn Years mized by freedom and life, but a lot of dying has to take place in each of us before we are really free to love for the sake of Christ. Growing older is part of tile stripping process of b~coming free to let God do all he can in our hearts. Love needs time to mature. The Church says of the young saints that they fulfilled a long life in a short time, so that even th~ child saint can be old when considering years spent on earth. It only take~ a moment to love for a lifetime, andthe meaning of the greatest love of all is giving of one's life for the sake of a ne.ighbor. Giving can be done by being for another. If we think we can do things for ourselves alone, our whole life is wasted. Being in the autumn years can become adoing for others. Being is knowing how to love. Love is being present to the need of another ffhich sometimes in-volves pain. As humans, we would rather bypass the cross and get right to the resurrection. But we are unrealistic if we think the resurrection is possible without,the crucifixion. There can be no spring without the autumn and the winter. Resurrection portrays Christ reaching out to the hurt and pain of his disciples. Christ is our holiness, and the fruitfulhess of our lives in Christis found in how much of Christ's death we are will-ing to accept forbthers. The ultimate, decisive word of God, in the hu-manness of Christ, is Christ's dying on the cro~s. His suffering gives ~m~aning to our pains and our dying even When we do not relate it to our autumn years. Everything we did or woul~t have liked to do becomes as nothing in the light of Christ's suffering and death. He took care of it all. The ultimate, decisive word of God, sp6ken in the humannness of Christ, comes to us in his d~athon the cross. Counselors and sigiritual directors bften meet couples whose mar-riages have revolved around doing'for their offspring, and who now'com-plain about lack of meaning to their lives with'6ut~ their children. After the childi-en are growr~ and off on their own, these pai'ents have not learned how to accept each other, to be with each other. Many priests and religious brothers and sisters have the same problem. So many years found them in their work that they never learned to enjoy each other. So intense was the doing, the~ never discovered the secret of being, for them-selves or others. They ~vere all so busy doing in the spring and summer of their lives that they gave n~o thought to the autumn and winter that had to follow--when doing became more difficult. Working at accomplishing something involves the danger of making doing the meaning of life. The need of another opens our lives to the rush of the Spirit filling us with God's love. The second comings of the Spirit to the Church are pe6ple filled with love who reach out with their gifts 1~24 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 to the needs of others. The problem is no~ whether we did enough in our lifeti~ae, but whether we did~:.what we di~l-~vith love. We may complain that we have never had any.thing werth doing. Ye't each time we moan about not being satisfied with what we have done, or regret not hax~ing done enough, always w~tnting to do more with our liyes, we limit our love of God to wh~t.we are ci6ing noV, rather than bringing all we have done in our lives t~ ~,hat we do. Life teaches us toAive in God's love. We do not deserve God's love, but we can accept it. We waste love, think-ing of all we could have done or w, ould~have liked to d~o.~God.'s love frees us to giv~ ourselves.~ It brings the wisdom whichohelps us to ,put aside our accomplishments or hopes of achieveme.nt, and opens our hearts to be filled with God's love in Christ. The awareness of Christ in our lives frees us to live in the Father's love. ~ The victory won by:Christ when he "took captivity._captive," when he took away the scandal attached t6 our suffering and dying; allows us share in the resurrection when we take up our crosses and follow him. Christ calls us in our inadequacies, our brokenness, our nakedness, our need of others, to be part of the resurrection by claimiong~the foothold in heaven we have in him. Our needs bring Christ into our lives. We be-come other Christs by.-lett!ng him do in our live~s. Growing older ih a world with so many younger,~people frees us to be.in their love, even as we learn to be in God's love. If we were.really and truly competent enough to do it all by ourselves, we would never~ need God. Needing God and other's allows our captiyity to-be taken cal~tive by ~hrist. Aristotle, the great philosopher and teacher-some centuries before Christ, said that. a person could become a philosopher only after forty years of age. It is only When we have enough .experience of life that we begin to find the meaning of life, 19v.e, and values which have to do with being rather than doing. All of life's acc6mplishments are insignificant if we are unable to be in the love of God., if we are unable to be in the love of our brothers and sisters around us. Loye is God's relationship to us, and theGod Who gives all in our lives receives it back When we are able to offer our lives in Christ, when we try to be his life by our love for each other. We are called to be lov- ~ers. Even as the doing of our early years is the beginning of love, it is in the need for each other of our autumn years that love is completed, the love which allows us to~be in the f~ullness of Ch,r!st who lives.Eithin us. Our world needs us and we. should be proud to be aging ,in God's love, .basking in the autumn .years of life, content to be in his love for the sake of all who are still able to do'in his love. We are now like th'e " .,Th~ Autumn Years / 825 Eternal Word of the Trinity, always receiving from the F~ther, even as we are"i'eceiving from others who love us. We are created iri the image and likeness of the God who is Trinity. Trinity has its counterpoini in the mystery of indwelling, where G6d is found in the still point of our lives. Family and community are the outer reaches of this m~yst~ry of indwelling where God lives in the love of our hear~sl and in how we reach out to our brothers and sisters. We are told bY the first commandment of life to love God. We would not know how to do this if Christ had not told us he lok, ed us just as the Father loves him. Christ asks us to live in'his l~v~e, and tells us we love him by keep-ing the commandments which show us the ways we ~hould devil with one another and God. Faithfulness to the commandments is faithfulness to one another. How can ~ve lov~ the God we do not see, if we do not love the neighbo~ we do see? God' is love and we live in his lo~ve in the way we love 0n~ another. Wherever there is. ipve, G~I is. Lo~,e calls us to be like the G~d we image and brings us into commu.nity a~ men and women 6reated to lok, e 6ne another. Spirff~al life can be traced_back to T~rinity: in':-TTinit~,, being and do- !ng meet in the total giving and receiving,of the Father and th6 Son. The Father holds b~ck nothing of himself. The S,on, totally receiving of th~ Father, has nothing the Father has not given him. All of life i~ a combi-nation of these two forces, the active and passive 0"f life. The principles of life find in Trinity the °meaning and the sourceof love. Even if we have spent a. life totally, giv, ing all we are in order that the mystery of the Trinity m_ay be comple.ted in us, the autumn of our lives finds meaning in rec~eiving./~s the child needs parents to grow, so too we grow in those moments when our heart~ need each other. We ac-cept the richness o~each otl~r'~/~ifts when we are willing to need one another from the depths of our being.Then the beauty of life finds the special expression of th6oTrinity completed in the giving and~:eceiving which touches Being, and that very_ being i's love. Love is God's, relatioriShip ~to us, '~n.d the God whb gives ~11 lives in our lov~ when w~ are able,t0 ~J.ffer bin: lives in Ch~rist;.wfien ~.t~ry to live his life by our love for each other. We are called to be lovers. But most of all we are c~lled to be loved in Christ. Autumn years bring the kisses and the embraces of our.,Lord which are felt even in the hurts and the pains of our body's resistance to the call of our Lord .to our eternal reward. The warnings of sufferings do not have to be a threat, in our hope of the resurrection, as a lifetime of love and work in response to the call of God's love claims relationship to Christ. Our pains in letting Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 go of our work,:and our good health bear relationship to the ultimate word of God's love in the passion and death of Jesus Christ and offer the love of God in the resurrection. Even as the dping of our early years is the beginnin.g of love, the letting go of the autumn years completes our love as we feel the need for God and each other. The Christ who is in the least one of otir brothers and sisters is now in us, allowing us to be Christ in our need. We become the Christ to whom we have given hll our life, as all~the good we have done for others comes back upon us. Our world awaits a generation of people proud to be'aging in-his love, basking in the warmth of love which ~omes their way in the autumn of life. Mary is the ultimate model of being for Christ, being for God. She accompan'i~d the Church of theresurre6tibn by being present to their needs and helping them to remember her Son in the many ways of a mother's love, as she took care of h.er. children in the trust given to her by Jesus from the ci'oss~ Because Mary was so present to the needs of the Cl~urch before h_er Assumption, the early Church learned to respect her as mo(her, oA very significant part of the spiri.tuality of the autumn years in the lives of m_any is their devotioh to Mary by following her ex-ample in praying for the Church. The work of the autumn years is the same as Mary's; the" limits of that work ar'~ the size of oiir heart. Even as our autumn years are the time for being as much as we can be, they are the time for loving as much as we can love. Mary has taught us how to li~,e, h'ow to love, and how to be, both by her love for her Son and by the way she lived with the early Church. Just as Mary's autumn years were filled with the touch of God, her presence brought that same touch of God's love to the ea~:ly Church. Mary and God's touch would always be close. So too our autumn y.ears can have the touch of God strength-ening the Mystical,.Body of Christ. Mary is therole model of our autumn years and our patron as we pray: Heav.enly Father,.help us to understand the meaningof growing older in wisdom and knowledge. Allow us to gracefully accept the slowing down in the autumn of life. May we be as loving as Mary in her autumn years, presefit to the needs of c'bmpanions~ filled with I.ife and its inys-ter~, so that all will feel free to share your gift, to find your love within us. Open us, O Father, to a concern for.the liu~an race. Fill our hearts with living in the fulfillment of your abiding love every'moment of every day. Help us to be so resonant and filled with the meaning of the mo-ment that we may:be truly able to love,.as you.loved. May we eagerly look forward to the "being'.~'of the autumn years, reaping the golden rewards, fully open to the winter-that is to come, where all is wanned ~bY your love. ~ Community Dialogue and Religious Tradition Sebastian MacDonald, C.P. Father MacDonald is provincial superior of the Holy Cross Province. He may fie reached at Passionist Community; 5700 North Harlem Avenue; Chicago, Illinois 60631. Dialogue is a common form of community experience today. It is an en-deavor which has the capacity of exposing the wealth of tradition latent in a community. Such tradition is often the unspoken element bonding a community together, the ineffable cementing relationships. It can be a mistake, of course, to uncritically commend the rgle of dialogue in religious life, Given the negative experience of it that many religi~us have encountered the past few years, citing its advantages must be balanced with recognizing its difficultie~ and disadvantages. ~'hese latter largely center about the conflict and division that often occurs among community members, as the~y encounter in one another ap- ¯ parently irreconcilable positions on often fundamental and basic aspects of religious life. Dialogue, as the publi~c articulation of these p~ositions, can add to an already~latent conflict. Once public positions are taken by community members, this may freeze a division that has always be~n there, but, here-tofore, private, and to that extent, potentially malleable. By enhancing the feeling elenaent, dialogue can be a further obstacle to community build-ing. II. An aspect of the problem which needs to be recognized is the often 827 828 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 ~restrictive or constrained, nature of community dialogue. At times it does not allow full expression of opinion on the part of all present, as when, should everyone address an issue, the frequent result is that the depth of conversation is shallow and glosses over deep feelings and heartfelt con-victions. This may result in one side gradually prevailing, in a community dif-ference of opinion. An unequal division occurs on an issue when the ma-jority silences the minority, or articulate spokespersons cause members who support an opposing opinion to withdraw in some way and possibly to absent themselves from community dialogue: If this happens, an unspoken element remains in the community, fu-eling even more the disagreement raised to prominence by the public dia-logues that have taken place. Just because ~something is unspoken does not mean that'it ce~ases to exist or exert its influence. lie " To offset this development, a full-blown community dialogue be-comes desirable, where each member has the opportunity, and actively utilizes it, of fully expressing himself or herself regarding fundamental issues of religious life, as well as seCondary but still importantelernents. '. Adults who live together for a period of time accumulate a rich de, posit of spirit and. tradition. Any community bonding that 'Occurs must respect that. richness. But where dialogue is restricted and constrained, and opinions go un, expressed, monologue prevails, not genuine dialogue. There may be an appearance of dialogue, as community members dutifully assemble ac-cording to schedule. But if they do so reluctantly and,. fearing r~ancor, sniping or misrepresentation, do not speak from their hearts on issu.es, then only a facsimile of dialogue is present, with peopl~ merely going through the motions of conversing With one another. Honest ~elf, expression is a duty and a respons.ib~ility, together with a willingness to listen to ~thers, who may voice positions in conflict with ~eeply held convictions. Th!s kind of community dia.logue is an art form riot come by easily, spontaiaeous!y or naturally. It has to be worked at with grace, balance and harmony to make the conversation helpful and productive. There is a rich mother-lode of spiritual exp.erience in religious com-munities that beg~ to be exposed, recognized and admired. It is a thing of beauty that often eludes written or spoken form. Congregational documents, such as Constitutions and Regulations, do,not always capture the "tradition" of a religious community which, Community Dialogue and Tradition / 1t29 in large part, is often inexpressible. But it does strive to see the light of day and to be ack.nowledged for what it is, a major cementing factor in a community's life and existence. .Religious life is one of faith. In our efforts to explain it in its com-munal form, we refer to other kinds of community living, especially the family. However, we know that these comparisons are only partially sat-isfactory. The physical bonding factors which account for the stability of communal units such ,as the familY explain much of the emotional and spiritual quality present there. ~ The vows of poverty, chastity and obedience, however, are bonding factors of a different type, which must be described as intangibles. The ~faith quality and spirituality of religious community is intelligible only in their terms. Indeed, religious life is designed to witness to the kind of community living together based on such values. This witness is, hope-fully, given to one another, and to those who observe religious in prac-tice. The spirituality of the "apostolic community,'~' about which we hear so much today, consists of this faith witness on the part of religious bound together by such "intangible" vows accounting for their life and work together. Precisely because the "anchors" for the faith quality of religious life are intangible, it is possible they will be submerged, sliding beneath the surface and remaining invisible, unless they are consciously and delib-erately disengaged and exposed to view. Community dialogue is one way of allowing this to happen. IV. The fuller the attention and exposure that a tradition of religious life receives, the more promising the access it provides to building and unit-ing a religious community together. Tradition can be ineffable, or expressible only with difficulty for the reasons given above. If this .occurs, it is not acknowledged, responded to or accounted for, despite its important role in the community. Tradition often constitutes the very center of religious life in com~ munity. It can explain the reason behind who they are and the values they abide by. When these are not plainly evident to otliers, their lives as com-munity members can in large part go unappreciated by and even un-known to their fellow religious. Can this be community? Unwritten and unspoken tradition bonds a community together, but it needs to be acknowledged and dealt with. Practices regarding poverty, prayer, silence, fraternal relationships, and so forth, often refer to expe- Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 riences that flow deeply and silently, possibly never seeing the light of day, exc6pt symbolically and representatively. It is imperative that they emerge in community dialogue. Otherwise an explosive energy build-up results, driving co-existing lives in opposite directions, into inevitable collision. This is the hidden resistance so often experienced as divisive in community dialogue. It rep-resents the unspoken ground on which people take stands, inadequately explored and investigated with their fellow religious. Much of this tradition is rooted in religious and sacred ~aeaning, and concerns God himself. This adds a dimension of strength and power to values that weigh heavily upon a community that fails to discover them, unspoken and hidden in the depths of certain members who feel that the way they experience God in their lives is not esteemed by others. V. Tradition within the smaller confines of religious community reflects Catholic tradition within the Church at large. It is endowed with a ver-sion of catholicity in its capacity to bind together those who share it. On the other hand, a schism or division can begin among those religious who do not share a common tradition, or fail to appreciate or even perceive its presence. A religious community is like "a little church" in this re-gard. Community dialogue is at its best when it provides full scope to re-ligious experience. In this way it discloses a deposit of reasons and val-ues that give meaning to people's lives and make them real. If it suc-ceeds in this, it helps build community on a solid foundation of full, hon-est, and authentic exchange between people intent on sharing life to-gether. Conclusion Living by a largely unwritten tradition containing rich personal and communal experiences, we stand to benefit by an exposure of this "tra-dition" to others through, dialogue. Hopefully it will win their esteem too, and bind religious more ~closely together. God's Love Is Not Utilitarian William A. Barry, S.J. This is the final of Father Barry's series of four articles which began with a considera-tion of our resistances to God. He may be addressed at Saint Andrew House; 300 Newbury Street; Boston, Massachusetts 02115. A number of years ago---more than I care to remember--as a brash young scholastic I was° engaged in a spirited conversation with some other Jesu-its, priests and scholastics. We were discussing the reasons for being a Jesuit. During the discussion I found myself more and more dissatisfied with the reasons given. I had seen married and single lay men and women who were at least 9s dedicated to being,followers of Christ as any of us. My own parents were examples of rather remarkably unselfish lov-ers. I could not believe that God was more pleased with us than with them~ Nor could I accept the notion that God wanted me to be a Jesuit in order to save some part of the world. That just did not ring true to my experience and reflection. At one point I blurted out something like this: "I'm a.Jesuit because God wants me to be happy and productive. God"s love for me has led me to choose this life, just as his love for o~hers leads them to choose their way of life." I am not su.re I understood all the implications of what I said, nor was I sure that the implied theology would stand up to scru-tiny. But that outburst has stayed with me through the years, and I have pondered its meaning off and on. In the process I began to enunciate a conviction that God's love is~not utilitarian; i.e., God does not love me or anyone primarily in order to achieve some other goals. In this article I want to unpack some of the meaning of this conviction, impelled by a number of recent experiences of directing retreats and giving spiritual direction. 831 ~1~12 / Review for Religious, N~vember-December, 1987 My youthful outburst was occasioned by the realization that much of the reasoning that justified being a religious presumed that being one was a great sacrifice, indeed, even painful. So the life had to be justified or made palatable. But I did not feel that my life entailed any more sacri-fice than anyone else's. I was rather happy, all things considered, and would not have traded my life for anyone's. So I felt that the "call" to Jesuit life was God's gift to me, his way of loving me. To put the same thing in another way: I felt that God wanted me to be a Jesuit because that was the best way for me to be happy and productive. That convic-tion has not changed since. Over the years I have come to believe that all God wants of any of us is to let him love us. I hax;e also come to believe that one of the most difficult things for us to do is precisely to let God love us, to receive his love. We resist his advances, his overtures of love as though they were the plague. In three earlier articles I have tried to probe the sources of that resistance.l In this article I want to focus on what I have come to believe is God's desire in bur regard. Sebastian Moore,2 in his latest book, makes the point brilliantly: God desires us into being. Before ever we were, God desired us so much that he made us, and made us desirable and lovely. And he desires, that we find him lovely, that we love him. But that can only happen if we !et ourselves believe and experience that we are, as it were, the apple of his eye. To the extent that we believe and experience that God finds us de-sirable, to that extent will we be in love with him. People who have let God, demonstrate his love for them often affirm that it is a love without any demands, an3; strings attached. This is a diffi-cult point to grasp, so let us try to be clear. Often enough we are afraid of God's closeness because we fear the demands he will make of us. "He may askme to go to Ethiopia." As far as I can te!l, when God comes close, he does not c6rrie with a list'of demands or conditions for continuing to remain close. For example, he does not seem to say: "Yes, I love you, but I will only keep on loving you if you [fill in the blank]." Infact, he does not even seem to say: "I love you, but I will only keep on loving you if you stop this pai'ticular sin:" God seems to be just what the First Letter of John says he is, namely'love ,'and uncon-ditional love at that. All he seem~ to want is to be able to love Us, to be close and intimate with us. Does this mean that God has no standards, no values? By no means; but his Values are not perceived as demands by those who have let him come close. Rather they find themselves desirous of sharing his values, God's Love Is°Not Utilitaridn / I]~13 of being' like him--not because God'demands that they do so, butobe-causethey are happier and more alive when they live according to God's values. For example, I realize that I am happier, more alive and more purposeful when I can desire to forgive as Jesus forgives, to love as Je-sus loves. Married men and women have found themselves most fulfilled when they have:remained faithful to their marital commitments, even when the grass looked greener elsewhere. Religious have discovered that their great-est happiness lies in giving themselves wholeheartedly to the demands of their vows, even when the bloom seems off the rose, as it were. Many Christians have also discovered that they are most alive and happy when they give themselves as wholeheartedly as possible to living with and working with and for the poor. Of course, at times all these people weaken, and are helped to stay the course by some negative sanction, for example, fear of loss of face, or of sinning and disappointing God, or of hell. But at bottom the motivation for sticking to their lasts is the desire to imitate the God who has so unconditionally and faithfully loved them. In other words they want to be perfect as'their heavenly Father is perfect. Of course, they cannot .do this. Sin is an ever present reality which even the holiest of saints must contend with. However, those who have experienced God as lover do not experience him as contemptuous of their sinfulness but as compassionate and patient. In their best moments, when they are aware of God's love, they recognize that all they have to do is to ask forgiveness and healing for their lapses, and to desire to have their hearts made more like the heart of Jesus. And they can hope that continued contemplation of Jesus will transform their hearts almost by osmosis. Now, perhaps, we have come to the key that opens the last door to insight. Jesus is the perfect human being, we believe, the one who most fully realizes the potential of humanity. When all is said ~nd done, What is the central insight Jesus had? Was it not that Yahweh, the creator of the universe, the unnameable, unfathomable mystery, is "Abba," "dear Father," "dear Mother," Love itself? To the maximum extent possible for a human being Jesus knew God, and he experienced God as Love.3 Let us reflect a bit on Jesus' baptism in the Jordan. I realize that I am reading into the text, but I find it intriguing that the synoptics pic-ture God as saying that Jesus is his beloved in whom he is well pleased before Jesus has begun his public ministry. What has he done to elicit such praise? Perhaps "all" that he has done is to allow God to come ~134 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 as close as God wants to come; perhaps "all" that he has done is just to let himself be loved as much as God wants to love him. Perhaps Jesus is so dear to God just because he let God do what God has always wanted to do: reveal himself as our lover par excellence. It is also intriguing to speculate that Jesus' fundamental salvific act may have been, not dying on the cross, but rather accepting God's love as much as it is humanly possible to do. Then the following of Christ might mean not so much doing iheroic deeds, nor even wanting to love as Jesus loves, but much more fundamentally, desiring to let oneself be loved as much as Jesus was and is loved. PerhaPs the world will be saved when a critical mass is reached of people who deeply believe and expe-rience how much they are loved by God. What I have been saying may strike some readers as advocacy of a "me and God" spirituality. It is true that this can all sound very narcis-sistic. But in practice, it is the exact opposite. Those who let themselves be loved by God find in doing so that their own love and compassion for others is enormously increased. This trans-formation does not happen because God demands such love of them. In fact, these persons know that for years they tried to be loving in response to what they took to be God's demands: they made resolution after reso-lution, and failed miserably. Now without effort, almost, they find their hearts going out to others, and especially to the neediest. They are sur, prised themselves at what is happening to their hearts. The more they al-low themselves to be loved unconditionally by God, the more loving they become. And the love of these persons, like that of Jesus, is a tough love. They speak the truth, but it is a truth that is not contemptuous, nor an-grily demanding--at least while they are aware of being loved. This last aside is a necessary nod to realism. For even the holiest of saints has days he or she regrets. Moreover, as they become or are made aware that they are socio-political beings, i.e., constituted at least in,part by the social and. political institutions into which they are born or freely enter, they begin to undergo what Father Gelpi calls a socio-political,conversion, and take steps to make these institutions more just' and caring through organizing, networking, lobbying, and protesting where necessary.4 Moreover, people who let God come close realize, without self-contempt, how far they fall short, and always will fail short, of being like Jesus. They know. from experience why the saints protested so strongly their sinfulness. They feel over and over again how much God loves them and how much God desires to shower them with his love, and God's Love Is Not Utilitarian they see themselves turning their backs on him, resisting his advances, refusing his invitations to intimacy. They find themselves to be enigmas because the experience of God's closeness fulfills their deepest desires, yet they fight him off. In spite of being such sinners they know that God still loves them. Hence, they view themselves and all human beings more and more with the compassionate eyes of God. I have begun to suspect that the notion of God's love as utilitarian is a defense against God's love. IfI convince myself that God loves me for the sake of other people, then I do not have to face the enormity of being' loved for myself alone by God. Many people shelter themselves from the full implications of God's love by seeing themselves as the ob-ject of that love only as part of a group. In other words, God loves all people, and I am included under the umbrella,,as it were. Now there is a truth in this notion, but I can use it to keep God's love very impersonal and distanced. So, too, God'is kept distanced if I conceive of tiis love for me as utili-tarian. "He loves me for what I can do for the people of Ethiopia." It is a very subtle way of keeping God at a distance: he does hoi loveme so much as Ethiopia. It is also subtly Pelagian: God loves me for what I can do for him. Interestingly enough, it is also a subtle way both to puff up my ego, and also to make sure that I am never satisfied with my-self. On the one hand, I am aware of all that I am doing for Ethiopia; on the other hand, I am constantly reminded of how much more there is to be done, and may also be reminded that others have done more. One person on, a retreat, for example, felt that if God really loved her, then he would be using her in more important ways. She discovered that such reasoning was making her unhappy and keeping God at arm's length. Perhaps the burden of the argument thus far can be summed up in an experience of another retreatant. He had experienced deeply that Je-sus knew he was a sinner and would always be a sinner. Jesus commu-nicated to him in a gentle, loving way how he had betrz'yed him in the past, and that he would do it again in the future. Yet he looked at him with enormous tenderness and love. The retreatant felt that Jesus said to him: "I love no one more than I love you--but I love no one less than I love you." God does not love some people more because of what they do, or what they will do. He is just greatly pleased that anyone lets him come as close as he wants to come. If God's love is not utilitarian, does this mean that it is meaningless to ask whether God has a will for me apart from letting him love me and Review for 'Religious, November-December, 1987 loving him in re~urn? If God will continue to love me whether I become a doctor, a carpenter,.a social worker, or a Jesuit, does 'it matter at all to God which I become, as'long as I am happy? To take the question one step further: if God will continue to love me even if I~ continue to sin, does it matte~r to God whether I stop sinning or not? In other words, if we say that God is unconditional Love and that he is not utilitarian in his love, do we not eviscerate of meaning such traditional Christian and Catholic notions as the discernment of God's will, the exist~ence of hell, the call to co.nversion from sin, the person as.God's instrument and vo-cation? Perhaps John was addressing some of the ~same questions when he has Jesus say; For'God so loved the world that he gave'his only Son~ that whoever be-lieves in him should not perish but hav6 eternal life. For'God sent the Son into the world, nbt to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him. He who believes in him is not condemned; he who does not b.elieve is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God. And this is the judgment, that the light has ~ome into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. For every .one wh6 does evil hates the light, and does not come to the light, lest his' deeds should be exposed. But he who does what is true comes to the light, thi~t it may be clearly seen that his~deeds have been wrought in God (Jn 3:16-21). A comment by Raymond Brown on this passage and others in John, may show us a path out of the, dilemma: We believe that the translation of krinein as "condemn" in these pas- .sages (also in 8:26) is clearly justified by the contrast with "save." Nev-ertheless, the statement that Jesus did not come to condemn does not ex-clude the very real judgment that Jesus provokes . The idea in John, then, seems to be that during his ministry Jesus is. no. apocalyptic judge like the one expected at the end of time; yet his presence does cause men to judge themselves.5 In other words, Jesus does not condemn, but his presence brings out what people really are like. He, the human presence of God on earth, loves people and wants their good, indeed their absolute good, which is union with God, and he continues to love even those who spurn the of-fer, They condemn themselves. Let us see where this path leads us. When we love people unselfishly (insofar as this is possible for a hu-man: being), we want their good. We want them to be as happy, fulfilled, right with God and the world as possible. We want them to fulfill all their God's Love Is Not Utilitarian / 837 potential, "to be ttie best that they can be," as the commercial for the Army dins into our memories. At our best ~ve do not demand all this as a condition for our love, but we want it because we love. If this is the case with us, we can imagine what God desires. In his ',~'Contemplation to Obtain Love,'? Ignatius of Loyola tries to help us to imagine all that God's love wants. In an almost poignant line he'says: "I will ponder with great. affection how much God our Lord has done for me, and how much he has given me of what he~ possesses, and fi-nally, how much, as far as he~ can, the same Lord desires to give.himself to me according to his divine decrees."6 God creates a world that he sees is "very good" (Gn 1:31) for his loved ones to live in. He wants them to be co-creators with him of this evolving world. The Garden of Eden image in Genesisl is awonderful symbol of wl~at.Gbd wants for those whom he lo~,es into existence. He °wants us to li~,e in harmony ~vith, and with reverence for the universe and all that is in it, because that is the way to ou~r greatest li~lppines's and fulfillment both as individuals and as brothers and sisters. Moreover, he wants to giye himself to us "as far as he can"; limita-tion comes not just. from our fin.itude, but also from our perversity. God, however, will not compel us to accept what is for. our good. Does GOd puni.sh us for our perversity? It is an age-old tradition that ascribes natural disasters to God's wrath. The Old Testa.ment is~ replete with such ascription~s, beginning with Genesis 2. In the New Testament Jesus is asked: "Rabbi, ,whq,sinned, this,man or his parents,~ that he was born blind~?" He a.nswers: "It was not that this man sinned, or his par-ents, but that the works of God might be made,manifest in him" (Jn 9:2- 3). To say the least, this answer is enigmatic, but it does belie the as-cription of disasters to God's wrath ~at sin, On the hypothesis that God is Love I want to say that we punish our-selves by turning away from God's love. God remains steadfast in his love. But hatred, suspicion, prejudice, fear--these and other emotions-- are the product of our sins and the sins of our forebears. And they are not emotions that are for our peace. In other wor.ds, God made us broth-ers and sisters and desired us to live in harmony and mutual love, but we human beings have brought on ourselves the disharmony and distrust that now threaten the world as we know it. And if anyone does remain willfully and perVersely turned away from God's love and the love of neighbor to the end, then he or she chooses eternal unhappiness. But ~God's love does not change into 'something else. Review for Religious, November-De~cember, 1987 But what abgut the man born blind? What about the child with Down's syndrome? What about natural disasters such as the eruption of the volcano in Colombia which destroyed.~a town and took 20,000 lives in one day? We want to know why such things happen. It lies close to hand to ascribe such events either to the punishment of God, or fate, or to the stupidity of the victims. Social psychologists speak of the ."just world hypothesis" in .describing such attitudes. According to this view, everybody believes the world is a place where people generally get what they deserve and deserve wffat they get. To believe that our own good deeds and hard work may come to naught and, indeed, that we can encounter a calamity for totally fortuitous rea-sons, is simply too threatening to most of us. And yet we see people whose lives have been shattered and who seem like us in every way. Are these paraplegics, blind people, sufferers from cancer really innocent vic- .tims, and are we, therefore, candidates for s~ffering the S~me fate? The just world hypoth.esis posits that in these circum~stances we are likely to reject that possibility as intolerable and to conclude that those stricken individuals ~re really wicked, or at least foolish, and deserve their fate.7 Some of these calamities may be caused by human sinfulness or stu-pidity at some time in history. In the United states and in Latin America people still experience the effects of the evil of slavery and of greedy colo-nization. Other calamities may just be random events in a finite world; e.g., some Of the effects of genetic disorders. Others may be caused by someone else's perversity, but the victim is seemingly picked out at ran-dom: for ~xample, the drunken driver plows into John Jones' car, hav-ing just barely missed ten others, and out of the blffe John is dead~ and his daughter is maimed ~for life, through no fault of theirs. The "just world hypothesis" reminds us of the friends of Job or the disciples who asked Jesus about the sin that caused the man to be born blind. It will not work in the case of innocent victims of either random events, the pre-sent sins of others, or the effects of historic evils. How do we square the unconditional love of God with such calami-ties? In experience, people who engage God directly in a relationship, and who look at the world realistically, have the "just world hypothe-sis" pulled out from under them. They see that Jesus, the sinless, be-loved Son, died horribly, and that no bolts of lightning took vengeance on his killers or saved him. As they develop their relationship with God, they may find themselves raging at him for.the seemingly needless suf-fering they ,undergo or see others experience. Somehow or other they dis-cover a God who is beyond what we conceive as justice, a God they can God's Love Is Not Utilitarian hope in and live for, No more than the author of the book of Job can they explain it; but for sure it i~ not the answer proposed by the "just world hypothesis." People who have de'0eloped such a relationship with God experience the deep m~ystery of creation and co-creation. God loves into existence not only the stars that so bedazzle us in the night sky but also the vol-cano~ that erupts suddenly and engulfs a whole city killing 20,000 peo-ple, 'and he loves those people into existence. God not only loves into existence Jesus and Mary, Francis of Assisi, Teresa of Avila, and the lovely people who have lok, ed us in our lives, but also Herod and Hero-dias, Genghis Khan, Lucrezia Borgia, Hitler and the torturers of politi-cal prisoners:of our day. People who meet this God at a deep level sense a bottomless ~compassion and pain at the heart of the world, yet a vibrant hope for life. They become more compassionate--and passionate-~ them-selves. Perhaps they can understand that it was not bravado that kept the martyrs joyful in their s.ufferings and dying. Perhaps, too, they can un-de¢ stand how the poorest of the poor still are capable of tremendous acts of generosity toward their fellow sufferers, just as they can understand the great cruelty o.f which the poor are also capable. Thus far we have threaded our path oiat of the seeming dilemma of the coexistence of God's unconditional love and-punishment for sin and hell. We have also seen a way'of explaining the call to conversion from sin. God wants the best for us and that best includes our turning away from sin and toward living a life that is consonant with a relationship of mutual love with the Lord. Sin does not produce happiness or harmony or peace of mind. Nor does it create harmonious relationsh~p.s between people, or political and social and religious institutions that work toward such harmonious and just relationships. So God's love for us desires that we be converted on all the levels postulated by Gelpi, the affective, the intellectual, the moral and the socio-political.8 Note, however, that God does not make such'integral conversion a condition for continuing to love us. He desires it b~ecause it is for our good; bu~ he does not demand it as the price of his love. Now let us mo4e on to the issue of the discernment of God's will, especially as this regards the question of a vocation to a way of life. Traditionally Catholics have believed that God has a plan for each per-son. He 'calls some to the religious or priestly life and others to the mar- ,ried state. It is true that the term "vocation" was most often restricted to the religious or priestly life. "He-hasa vocation" was shorthand in Catholic circles for saying that an individual felt called to religious or Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 priestly life. But a. more careful use oftanguage:also,saw married life as a calling. A further problem, of course~ is that this language left in limbo those who remain single (and not religious or priests) either vol-untarily or involuntarily. At,any rate, does God call people to a particu-lar way of life? And if. so, how is this calling consonant with the non-utilitarian nature of his love? ~ 0 Again we return to the idea that the lover wants the good of the be-loved. I will use the case of Ignatius of.Loyola to illustrate a way of under-standing God's call in terms of his~love, without~making that love. utilitar-ian. 9 ~ Inigo (his original name) was a hell-raising, ambitious, vain, coura-geous man, a'.man who dreamed of doing great exploits. At Pamplona, according to his own account, he was the rallying point, in resisting the French attackers. When he. was severely wounded in the leg, the defend-ers immediately surrendered. God seems to have used this crooked line to write straight. During his 10ng convalescence Inigo continued his dreaming. He dreamt of doing great knightly deeds to win fame and honor and the favor of a great lady. These daydreams.would absorb him for up to four hours'at a time. The only books at hand for him were a life of Christ and a book of the lives of the saints. When he read these, he began to dream of doing what Dominic and Francis did, and again he would become absorbed for hours. Notice that in both cases ~his ar-dor, ambition, bravery, and even vanity were operative. Finally, after some time of alternating daydreams, he began to notice a difference. When he was thinking about the things of the world, he'took much de-light in them, but afterwards, when he was tired and put theha aside, he found that he was dry and discontented. But when he thought of going to Jerusalem, barefoot and eating nothing but herbs and undergoing all the other rigors that he saw the saints had endured, not only was he con-soled when he had these thoughts, but even after putting them aside, he remained content and happy. He did not wonder, however, at th~s; nor ~:. did he stop to ponder the difference until one time his eyes were opened a little, and he began to marvel at the difference and to reflect upon it, ~ realizing from experience that some "thoughts left him sad and others happy)~0 ~' This was the beginning of Ignatius' own discovery of the discernment of spirits, a discernment that eventually led him to found the Society of Jesus, with enormous consequences for the Church and the world--and for not a few individuals who in almost four hundred and fifty years have joined this Society. God's Love Is Not Utilitarian How are we to understand this story of a vocation? I would maintain that ~God's 10ve for Inigo involved his desire that Inigo use his great ener-gies, his ardor, his ambition in ways that would make. him most happy, most fulfilled, and most useful to others. I believe that it mattered a great deal to God how Inigo used his talents, for Inigo's sake first of all, but also"for the sake.of others .whom God loved. However, God would not have loved Inigo any the less if he had missed the opportunity for dis-cernment, and had ~ontinued on his course toward "worldly" achieve-ment. But he might have been greatly saddened that Inigo did not choose what was for his greater happiness and peace. Later in life Inigo himself might have felt the sadness as he pondered how his life had gone since his recuperation. Only God could so love us that he would allow us the freedom to turn away from receiving all that he wants .to give us, and still keep loving us unconditionally, even when we so chopse. ., It seems to me that a consi.stent cleaving to the central insight of the New Testament, that God is "Abba," does not force .us to give up any truths of.faith and has several distinct advantages. The preceding pages have shown some ways of understanding traditional truths that hold in the forefront that" God is unconditional love, a love that is not utilitar-ian. Su(h an understanding demonstrates an intrinsic connection between the love of God and the search for his frill. Because God loves me, he wants the best for me. Because and insofar as I love God, I want the best for him, which is that he may give.himself to me as much as he can. The way of life God wants for me is the best way for me to receive his love and to be a co-creator with him. Hence, in my better moments, I try to the best of my ability to discern wfiere his love leads me. I do not try to find his will for fear that he will punish me, but rather for fear that I will miss the way that would allow him to give me more of him-self. I also try to find his will because I.know that his love desires more good for all those whom I will touch in my life. Perhaps we can understand in a slightly new way an axiom attributed to Ignatius (and often put inversely). Loosely translated the saying goes: "Pray as if everything depended on you; work as if everything depended on God." 1 ~ It is very important for me to pray in order to know how and where God wants to love me, how he wants to gift me. It is important not only for me, but also because of others. The more I let God give him-self to me as far as he can, the more "sacrat~entally" present he is to others with whom I interact. And once I have discerned God's way, I can work without ambivalence and self.concern, trusting that God will accomplish whatever else he intends. Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 One final question occurs. Suppose that Inigo's eyes had not opened up during his convalescence, and that he had gone on to worldly exploits. Would he have been given another chance? That is, of course, an unan-swerable question. But God would surely continue to love him and, we presume, continually offer him a call to a radical conversion of heart. ~If, later in life, he were to have his eyes opened, he'might have to come to terms with those earlier missed opportunities. Repentance would be in.~order, but a wallowing in his "spilt milk" would not be an appropri-ate response to the God of love. Conversion'means to accept my past pre-cisely as my past, i.e., both mine and past, and to surrender in freedom to the new and mysterious future offered by God's love now. But an historic moment surely would have been lost if Ignatius had gone an alternate route instead of the one he did take. There are conse-quences to our choices. Hence, it is incumbent on all of us who minister to help people who stand, or soon will stand, before serious life choices to become discerning Christians. Historic consequences may be at stake. -And now a final word. For the past year and a half I have been com-ing at the same issue from different angles. At first I was intrigued by a strange resistance to God's initiative, a resistance that clearly was a run-ning from a positive experience of God'~ presence. My curiosity pro-duced the three articles for this review mentioned earlier. Then a few experi,ences with direcfees prompted this article. I want to end where I began, with the first article. We need to be mind-ful that there is a force within us ~hat does hate the light, that seems to want to thwart all God's loving desire to give us of himself. We need to be on the alert to discern the presence of that force, but also to rely on thos~ various sayings that have given people hope through the ages, sayings like: "With men it is impossible, but not with God; for all things are possible with God" (Mk 10:27) or "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made per.fect in weakness" (2 Co 12:9). NOTES 1 William A. Barry, "Resistance to Union: A Virulent Strain," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 44 (1985), pp. 592-596; "The Desire to 'Love as Jesus Loved' and its Vicissitudes," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 44 (1985), pp. 747-753; "Surrender: The Key to Wholeness," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 46 (1987), pp. 49-53. 2 Sebastian Moore, Let This Mind Be in You (Minneapolis: Seabury, 1985). 3 After I had finished this article I came upon Francis Baur's Life in Abundance: A Contemporary Spirituality (New York/Ramsey: Paulist, 1983) who uses process the-ology to develop a spirituality based on the definition of God as love. While some- God's Love Is Not Utilitarian what hortatory and at times polemical, the book can serve as a theological underpinning for the more experience-based assertions of this article. 4 Donald L. Gelpi, "The Converting Jesuit," Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits, XVII, no. 1 (Jan. 1986). 5 Raymond E. Brown, The Gospel According to John: I-XII. The Anchor Bible, vol. 29. (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1966), p. 345. 6 The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola. trans. Louis Puhl. (Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1951), no. 234, p. 102. 7 Edward E. Jones, Amerigo Farina, Albert H. Hastorf, Hazel Markus, Dale T. Miller, and Robert A. Scott, Social Stigma: The Psychology of Marked Relatiohships (New York: Freeman, 1984), pp. 59-60. 8 Gelpi, op. cit. 9 What follows is based on The Autobiography of St. Ignatius Loyola, trans. Joseph F. O'Callaghan. ed. John C. Olin (New York: Harper & Row, 1974). 10 lbid, p. 24. ~ The Latin version can be found in "Selectae S. Patris Nostri Ignatii Sententiae," no, II, in Thesaurus Spiritualis Societatis Jesu (Roma: Typis Polygiottis Vaticanis, 1948), p. 480. Gaston Fessard, in a long appendix to volume I of his La dialectique des Exercices Spirituels de saint Ignace de Loyola (Paris: Aubier, 1966), traces the historical background of the saying. He demonstrates that although not from Igna-tius' hand the saying does express the dialectic of his spirituality. Vocation She said she wished to be a shrub And sit in silence, lost, obscure In some dim woods where no one ever comes and she could muse and watch the quiet winds go by. But He who long ago observed a brambled bush Looked at her once among the ferns. He looked but once; the winds became a storm And now she burns, she. bu.rns! Ruth de Menezes 2819 D Arizona Avenue Santa Monica, CA 90404 Novitiate: Captivity or Liberty? Mariette Martineau Mariette Martineau, a novice with the Sisters of Mission Service, had recently com-pleted sixteen months of formation at St. Albert, Alberta, when she wrote these re-flections which she hopes will benefit others in novitiate life. She may be reached at Box 2861; Merritt, British Columbia; VOK 2BO, Canada. ~l~hat are the realities of being a novice in a religious community in the Church today? Since the exodus following Vatican II, communities have been growing smaller and older. Novitiates have been created and re-created to meet the ever changing formation needs of both the commu-nity and the candidates. How often have novices of today heard this com-ment from one of the older members of their community, "How for-tunate you are to have such a novitiate, full of prayer and study! In our days . " Come and journey with me as ! reflect on my novitiate experience. I am on the last Stretch of that journey ~as I am presently completing a six-month apostolic experience before returning to Edmonton in June for immediate preparation for vows scheduled to be, celebrated in August. I have often asked myself, particularly in the early months, "Is this no-vitiate experience one of captivity or liberty?" When I first arrived at the novitiate I experienced what I like to call the "honeymoon" phase. Life was fairly flexible as time was granted to unpack, to explore the h6use a6d neighborhood, and most importantly to meet the new commuriity and ito become comfortable with the direc-tor. The excitement of not knowing exactly what to expect and of enter-ing into the newness of activities energized me and I felt that I had made a good decision. Reality soon set in, and the struggling began. Before I entered, I prom-ised myself that I would give me, the community, and God a year to dis- 844 Novitiate: Captivity or Liberty cover if this was truly the way of life for Mariette to grow fully alive. I am thankful for that commitment for there ~vere many times during th'ose first few.months that I was ready to pack my ba~s and leave~. My director was also aware of that commitment and when times were rough she gently reminded me of it. The challenge to let go of one's independ-ence- socially, financially, emotionally, and so forth---can be a painful one. If I had chosen to leave at this stage in the novitiate procesS, I would have been leaving not because I had chosen the wrong way of life but because I was unable to release certain things in my life and give all to God. The second phase or reality of novitiate after the honeymoon phase is this ti~e of purification, of letting go. Tears can be an enriching and cleansing experience! One's schedule soon seems to become another's schedule as 'the director sets her expectations before you and challenges you to integrate and balhnce your time between formal classes, prayer, spiritual reading, community, household chores, writing papers, and per-haps weekly apostolic experiences andthe ~ccasional weekend work~ shop. Your life no longer seems to 15e yoOr own; anger and depression sometimes become an everyday experience as you strive to fully enter into the year. One has usually left a job behind and now feels like a "non-producer," dependent on the community for food, shelter, recreation. Suddenly you have to keep an account of the money you spend and have to ask someone for that money. You now have to ask permission before disappearing in the community car or going out with a friend. In some ways you feel that your personal autonomy is being threatened and you no longer have control over your life. You do not understand all the things that are being 'asked of you. In fact, some of the requests make no sense at all, This calls for trust--in tile community and in the forma-tion personnel. Trust that they do know what they are doing and have your growth as their priority, while attempting to see if you do indeed have the charism of this community. The Yes I said when I ei~tered soon grew into a series of "yeses" that were not always easy to say. I must point out that it was not a "yes" to°having things done to me but a yes that said, "I will enter into the process that you have set before me." During this phase the novices may find themselves projecting a lot of anger at their director. It is they who are setting down the guidelines, they who are enforcing them. The director is the one called to tell the novice, "This year is a time to place some relationships on the back burner, a time to get in touch with who you are, your relationship with God and the community in which you have chOsen to live out that rela- Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 tionship." The director is the one who has been given the sometimes pain-ful responsibility of making the novices aware of areas in their lives that need growth. "I do not feel that you are using your time properly--Do you realize that you snapped ~at Suzanne during supper last night?--You are too,much of a perfectionist." A novice, like anyone; finds it painful to look at her brokenness. I sometimes found myself saying in response, "What about Sister Perpetua? I look great beside her and she has been in the community for twenty years." It is much easier to focus on some-one else's areas of growth rather than your own. In the midst of all of this is the fear of reje6tion: One can begin to foc~s entirely on the nega-tive while neglecting to hear the affirmation that is also present. During the novitiate phase one journeys closely with the director. The goal is to have someone to process the year with you, to guide you, to challenge you,. to affirm you, to see if you do have a vocation to religious life. I found this aspect of my journey difficult. As. much as I wanted to dis-cover if I was in the right place, I feared rejection and wanted to appear as someone who had it all "together," I wanted to be an instant relig-ious, comfortable with poverty, celibacy, community, and obedience. Simply put, I wanted to be perfect and got angry with myself and: others when I was not. Directors often tell their novices to be prepared for a time of regres-sion following their initial entry into novitiate. One can hear this with the mind but the heart sometimes gets in the way. One cannot understand why she feels depressed, angry, without energy, and without the finesse she had when she entered. Insecurity may be another reality, but doubt is always good because it challenges one to dig deeper. The gift during this time of grieving and regression is the realization that, "Hey, I am not going crazy! I am just striving to say good-bye to some excess bag-gage. I am feeling the loss of many things and many people. I am spend- .ing so much energy on being angry, I need some way to deal with the anger in a more creative way. I want to grow and become me fully alive, but that hurts and I just cannot seem to grow fast enough." A novice was asked one time, "When did your novitiate start?" She replied: "Nine months into it!" Another reality of novitiate life is the focus on community. One no longer, has the freedom to skip supper when she feels like it and go shop-ping instead. Recreation often takes place in the community context, and outside contacts can be limited and are often with other religious. One may get the sense of dead air--I need to.see other people! The challenge is to enter into the times of community and group activity while remem, Novitiate: Captivity or Liberty / 1~47 bering to also enter into moments of aloneness. We all need some de-gree of personal space. In relation to community, the novice who enters and places before herself the goal of reforming the community will find herself in conflict and perhaps will receive an invitation to leave. It is similar to marrying someone with the intent of changing that person into the person ~hat you think he or she should be. Those of us novices who are still young when we enter often bring with us our youthful idealism. This idealism is not wrong, and may indeed carry with it challen.ges to the community. But we must remember that novitiate is a dialectical proc-ess; both the community and the individual have so.mething to leai'n from each ot~her. Neither is perfect and neither should be expected to be per-fect. A line from a friend says, "I love you as you are in the middle of where you are." How does one know when to leave? After haying earlier stated that I had committed myself (t° myself) for a year, what would have caused ~e to leave? If at any point in that year the person of Mariette completely disappeared, I think it would have been time to pull out. If I had to die to all that I was, I think I would have been in the wrong place, perhaps simply at the.wrong time, or forever. Dialogue with the director is ex-tremely important during this discernment.' She is an objective observer, trained to help one make such decisions. Naturally the decision is always our own, and one always has to keep before herself the freedom to stay or to leave. Again I would say, trust the formation personnel, as it is easy to get entangled in one's emotions and make a decision to leave for the wrong reasons. I would not encourage anyone to leave while in the mid-dle of the grieving process. One can expect to say some good-byes to journey companions dur-ing novitiate. Some people will be with us until the end of the journey, others are called to different places before then. Good-byes can be pain-ful, especially if you have shared a deep relationship with the person leav-ing or if you have difficulty accepting the reasons for leaving. Each time someone left, it was an opportunity for me to reexamine my own rea-sons for staying or to find some good reasons to leave. Usually new life followed these reflections especially if I had been given the opportunity to sa~, good-bye to the person leaving and/or to ritualize her departure with the community--whether it be my own or the intercommunity no-vitiate of which I was a member as I was the only novice in my own com-munity. I strongly encourage and invite novices who have decided to con-tinue their journey in a different direction to realize the importance of saying good-bye to their directors and their communities. "848 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 The happie,st phase of the novitiate seems to come too late. You feel ready to enter into the process, you have develop.ed new relationships, ygur, anger and depression no longer seem to have control over you, the journey inward has become a challenge that energizes you. And guess what? It is time to move on, perhaps to an apostolic experience or fur-ther studies or even vows. It is gratifying at this time to look at how one was at the beginning and how one appears to be now. Signs of growth are evident and as you reflect back you. feel yourself wondering,. "Was I, really like that? Did I make life that miserable for others in the house, especiall3~ my director? . . ." Now may also be a time of increased heal-ing, reaching out in love and forgiven, ess in a deep and meaningful way to those wh6 have journeyed so f,,aithfully with 'you. One still does not haveit ~11 "together" bu~'acknowledges the joys and pains of being a pilgrim. Is novitiate a time of captivity or liberty? It can be a time of captiv-ity, ofimprisoning one's self in anger, loneliness, schedules, pride, in-security, or one's past, But it is designed to be a time of liberty. A time to spend kvitli,y.ourself and God, journeying towards wholeness by being -given the gift to leave behind many of the earthly cares that can take over our existence. It is a time to begin to d~velop the"skillS and behavior pat5 terns that a religious needs to integrate her life choice of prophet into the world" and the Church today. Community in Religious Life and the - Church: Some Reflections Angelo M. Caligiuri Monsignor Caligiuri is Episcopal Vicar for Religious in his diocese. His reflections here represent his part in dialogues between bishops and religious in several areas of the country and discussion with various religious superiors and other vicars. He may be reached at the Office of the Vicar for Religious; Diocese of Buffalo; 100 South Elmwood Avenue; Buffalo, New York 14202. During the final months of 1985 and the first months of 1986, through-out the dioceses of the United Sti~tes, diocesan bishops met with their re-ligious to dialogue about six areas of mutual concern. These areas of in-terest and concern surfaced from the series of listenin~ sessions held the previous year under the leadership ~nd guidance of the special Pontifical Commission established by our Holy Father, under the chairmanship of Archbishop John Quinn of San Francisco. As a result of these listening sessions, .each diocese prepared a writ-ten report on what was heard and these reports were sent to Archbishop Qtiinn and his committee. From a reading and evaluation of the many reports, the committee saw the following subject areas surfacing as mer-i
