We’re sitting halfway through the second week of school, and it is intense. Fortunately, I love this job, and getting up at 4am doesn’t feel bad because I am simply excited about going to school and teaching my classes. 

Anyway, that’s why I haven’t been posting. I’ll try to get back at it soon.

I’m still reading the Peter Watson Ideas book…reading even more slowly now that school has started. I am making progress, though, currently reading a chapter called “Liberty, Property adn Community: The Origins of Conservatism and Liberalism,” which focuses on the political philosophies of 16th and 17th century philosophers such as Machiavelli, Hobbes, Locke and Spinoza. 

As you probably know, I’m a big fan of Spinoza. But I have focused my studies mainly on his metaphysical, epistemelogical, and ethical writings, while only having a cursory knowledge of his political philosophy. Yet, his political philosophy may be far more influential and momentous than the remainder of his philosophy. 

Watson discusses a recent book, Radical Enlightenment, by Jonathan Israel, that argues Spinoza is a much more critical figure than most people–myself included–usually assume. See, Spinoza was Jewish, and at this time, that earns a person a lot of ire and negative prejudice. Very few people admitted to the public that they were admirers of Spinoza. Heck, not even Jews liked him– he was famously excommunicated from his synagogue and city (the most liberal city of Amsterdam, no less) because of his radical views. And so, the incredible influence of Spinoza, Israel argues, is clandestine. And yet, Israel provides significant evidence (according to Watson) that Spinoza did indeed have tremendous influence on the modern age.  Watson goes on to say: 

“It was Spinoza, [Israel] says, who finally replaced theology with philosophy as the major way to understand our predicament, and as the underpinning rationale of politics; it was Spinoza who dispensed with the devil and magic; it was Spinoza who showed that knowledge is democratic–that there can be no special-interest groups (such as priests, lawyers or doctors) where knowledge is concerned; it was Spinoza who more than anyone persuaded us that man is a natural creature, with a rational place in the animal kingdom; it was Spinoza who persuaded his fellow men and women that freedom could only be understood philosophically; it was Spinzoa who laid the groundwork for republicanism and democracy; it was Spinoza who explained that the end-result of all these ideas was toleration. For Israel, Spinoza was Newton, Locke, Descartes, Leibniz, Rousseau, Bayle, Hobbes and, yes, maybe Aristotle all rolled into one, the most consequential figure, on this reading, since Aquinas.” (507)

I think Israel probably exaggerates a little, but still–this is awesome.

If you know me or you’ve been reading this blog, you know I am a thorough fan of Obama. It sparked when I read his Audacity of Hope in the summer of 2007. And as I listened to his nuanced speeches and comments, understood his complicated view of the world and recognized his diplomatic and education based foreign policy, and realized this was a masterful dialectic thinker, I became an even greater fan and believed early on that this was both an excellent thinker and great leader. 

However, I, like many other people, cringed at reading criticism of him for a long time. Honestly, so much of it is close-minded lacks a firm grasp about what Obama’s value is.  Even if it was not chasing idiotic rumors of foreign birth and Arabic heritage, it often reduced him to his policy, which admittedly is not that different from Clinton’s. Furthermore, it confused character–moral and intellectual virtue–with personality worship, thinking that we are electing a celebrity, and it made me realize that most of his critics simply wouldn’t recognize a truly excellent man they were under his direct supervision.

However, that was campaign season. Now is time for the actual work. And as members of a democratic republic–who, despite the fundamentally ‘republic’ nature of our government, live in a place that must epitomize the spirit of democracy in our everyday lives– we need to be critical and sobering thinkers and participants. 

Therefore, I encourage everyone to seek out intelligent criticism of Obama. Find those sources that understand and appreciate Obama’s strength, and read them. Every day. Recognize the faults, and be prepared to discuss them. Be prepared to be called an Obama-hater as you discuss these flaws with your Obama-loving friends. 

I frankly love Obama. I had a sad dream that he and I were friends a few weeks ago. We were drinking some fine beer in a bar, shooting the shit, and he was talking to me about all the mounting emotions that he was going through as he was about to take on the most important position in the world–and yet, staying characterisically cool. He talked about the pride and the trepidation, and he enthusiastically shared his philosophy in assembling his cabinet team. It was sad because it seemed so completely natural and right, and yet, the man does not know, and never will know, that I exist.

I am an “Obama-phile,” without a doubt. But if we want to emulate him, then we need to emulate Socrates as well and embrace the gadfly. Do not let your communities become entranced by an idolized version of Obama. Keep it real, and seek out and read criticism.

This seemed astonishing to me, both in the number and the dominance of religious texts:

“According to one calculation, as many as 7.5 million copies of ‘major religious works’ were published in England between 1580 and 1639, in contrast to 1.6 million secular poems, plays and sonnets, while between 1580 and 1639 the religious writings of WIlliam Perikins ‘scored’ 188 editions compared with Shakespeare’s 97.”   –from Ideas: A History of Thought and Invention, from Fire to Freud, by Peter Watson.

Tomorrow a new chapter begins, both for myself and for the world. 

For the world, the inauguration of a man who represents, in his diverse background, his dialectic reasoning, and his Dewey-like democratic style, we have a man who embodies the greatest virtues of the spirit of democracy (which is distinct from the political structure of democracy). 

For myself, another grueling semester. This will be the third semester teaching six classes. Each time, I feel like I’m getting the tar kicked out of me. Almost every minute of my life is consumed with school, or taking breaks that are just long enough to cool my head and re-energize. Most aspects of my life are done for the sake of school: I still go to the gym, because I think and work better when my body is fit. But I do not do it for the sake of being fit. Even my friends are tools: I engage them in conversations that help me understand my subject better. (Of course, I would not use them merely as tools; I hope that they find value in the conversations as well.) 

And as I’ve mentioned before, the sweetest aspect of this job are the breaks in between semesters. This break has been one of the most productive of my life. I read, wrote, cultivated friendships, and traveled a bit. But mostly I reflected upon the previous semester, about what I did well, what could be done better, and what I did that was flat out wrong. And for the last week, I have spent most of my time re-forging my syllabi, my lesson plans, and my philosophy of education. My practice will likely mean that this semester will be an improved product over previous ones, and I am excited to see how my plans hold up to the chaos of the semester.

I. 

My classes put the arguments of students in the center stage. But in a community college, mid-western, urban environment, students are reluctant to share express their thoughts and criticize others. Often, this is simply because they do not firmly grasp the difference between their views and others. Like in a game, firm rules of behavior and conversation do not limit, but enhance confidence and ability.

To engender the mood of argument and discussion, I begin each semester with student introductions. Like many other classes, the first thing they state is their name and why they chose to take the class. To encourage honesty, I state that “to fulfill my humanities requirement” is a perfectly legitimate answer. 

Then, the game becomes exciting. The next questions they must answer (although they are not forced) strike at thei beliefs that are relevant to the class. In Philosophy of Religion, they must answer #1, but then choose at least one more:

1. How would you describe your religious beliefs (atheist, theist, agnostic, pantheist, Christian, Wiccan…however they feel best describes their situation). 

2. Do you believe that only one religion is correct, that there are some true religions and other false ones but that a person should focus on one, or that all religions contain some aspect of truth and a true seeker will study them all? (avoid for atheists)

3. Is there a life after death? Does the world contain some non-physical beings?

4. Does morality exist? Is it determined by God, or does God merely recognize what is good and evil?

And then, we step it up a further notch. In the third phase of a student’s introduction, they are allowed to ask a question of myself, or of anyone else in the class. Furthermore, anyone has the freedom to ask the introducing student a question.

Students are lukewarm at first, but in every case, the introductions last two or three days. By the end, the class is biting at the bit to argue.  True, the affect wears off throughout the semester, but it is more easily revived now that the scene is set.

In the past, I think of the questions a few minutes before class began. Now, I find value in considering the questions more thoroughly.  

II. The Humanities

I am teaching a new class this semester: Humanities: Philosophy, Drama, Music.  The layout of the class is basically up to me to decide. It is obviously not my most comfortable realm. However, I have been diving into Aristotle’s Poetics and intellectual history texts and I’ve been having some good ideas. The main theme is tragedy. Only at the end, with Stoppard’s Rosencrantz, do we touch on comedy, but it is a comedy that is a commentary on tragedy. However, we must keep in mind that this is not a Drama class, or a Philosophy or Music class, but a Humanities class. Humanities is often conceived as an umbrella term for a number of different subjects, and indeed, when speaking loosely, that is apt. However, it is a discipline unto itself, and I want to teach this class as a Humanities class, not as three distinct classes crammed into one survey class. 

The Humanities as a discipline, as originally conceived by the likes of Erasmus in the 15th century, is a discipline for understanding the power of humanity. It holds as its primary assumption that humanity has tremendous potential, that it can understand the world with proper effort and method, and that it expands through the study of the liberal arts. It believes freedom of thought is not easily attained but requires training, and that human nature can be improved, and even perfected. Certainly, the goals of the humanities have sobered a bit since then, but the essence is the same: humans have great unrealized potential, and that in order to realize this potential, one must embrace action, reflection, independance, and free thought. 

I want to communicate this to my students immediately, and use this as a launch pad for the semester. I see visions of a glorious speech I deliver on the first day, only for my students to passively listen and forgeting everything, unaffected.

And so, with all classes, I resort to the method of annoying, argument inducing questions to get the class moving. But what shall these be?

1. What does it mean to be human?

2. What are the greatest virtues of humanity?

3. Are all people equal? (what do you mean by equal?)  Or, in what way are people not equal. 

4. What are the most valuable types of freedom?

5. If you had the very last copy of Shakespeare’s Hamlet, and were given the choice between saving it or the life of an innocent ten year old child, what would you choose?

6. What sorts of factors restrict humanity, or a human, from gaining its full potential?

While reading Ideas (see earlier posts 12/25 & 1/6) I have become very frustrated with my reading speed. I have never been a fast reader, and I suffered for it in graduate school. Since grad school, I have never really been tested in reading quantity over short periods of time, so I set it by the way side. But as school approaches–13 days from now–and the vast pile of books that I need to read barely moves, despite dedicated huge amounts of time to reading, I am beginning to bang my head against the wall.

I have a relaxed reading temperament. I enjoy taking my time, reading about as fast as I would speak somewhat quickly. And my mind often wanders– if something interesting strikes me, I set down the book and consider whatever it is, even if it isn’t relevant. I have found this to be a strength, as I will often see things or reap ideas that I wouldn’t have had otherwise. However, there is a disadvantage to this as well– I simply to not absorb the quantity or grasp the ocean of material that I want to acquire (and need in order to be a successful philosophy teacher and student). 

So, today, from this moment on, I am considering this a top priority: become a faster reader. Force myseslf to move over lines quickly, while staying engaged and mentally active enough to reassemble and paraphrase everything I encounter as I read. I can move my eyes over the page quickly, but if the mind is in the usual state of relaxed contemplation, I understand nothing. Reading fast, I think, is a double thought process. One for absorption, another for active reconstitution. It requires an entirely different mental state than the one I have thoroughly habituated.

I’m mired in reading projects right now. I can’t get back to work until I finish these three books, but it’s going to take me a few more days, assuming I stay dedicated. So I declare that I will only read the following books until they are completed:

1. Ideas: A History of Thought from Fire to Freud.  About 350 395  441 pages of 750 complete.

2. Watchmen, the graphic novel. Should only take a couple more hours.

3. Dracula. About 120 138  pages of 350 complete.

As I am meandering around my small room, unpacking from the trip, with low lights, soft music, and chicken in the oven, I realize that this is the first evening in nearly a month that I have had entirely to myself, in an apartment that is entirely my own. It feels good. If solitude could arouse someone erotically, then that is exactly what it is doing right now.  

 

Marriage: Watching my parents’ marriage disolve, seeing a beautiful relationship forming between my brother and his astounding fiance, meeting old high school friends in marriages of many years with children, reading the Marquis de Sade’s arguments against monogamy, hearing about college friends getting engaged, staying with my former professor’s wonderful family, controversies about gay marriage, conversations about freedom and fulfilling (and our inability to fulfill) our partner’s needs… all of this in the past month has got me thinking about marriage, relationships, and sexuality, and I feel my views on these changing rapidly. I begin to doubt more strongly than ever that I will ever be married, because I do not want to tie myself to a single person for any duration, with any level of accountability except to myself. Notions of partnerships of three sound more appealing, no matter the gender make-up.

I am even being critical of my own heterosexuality, how much of it is genuine, and how much of it is reinforced by my background and the fierce homophobia that once consumed me long ago. Does the gender of the person that brings me pleasure and fulfill my needs really matter? Why am I so attracted to the female breast? Is the kiss of a man any different than the kiss of a woman? I would like my partner to be feminine, and I cannot imagine forsaking my masculinity– but is a female partner really necessary? And yet, I am virtually never attracted to men. 

I do not mean to condemn marriage in any way. As I noted, there are at least some cases of marriage that are clearly wonderful, bountiful, and something I wish I could taste in some life, and other marriages that will take place that I am pleased to watch happen and, in the modest role of Best Man, to take a part in. But the direction that I am growing in, as each year passes, seems to pull me away from marriage. That is very likely not my lot, and I am becoming more emotionally accepting of this, rather than merely intellectually accepting.