Despite my near fanatical devotion to Spinoza, I had never read much of his political book (The Theological-Political Treatise, or TTP) until the last two weeks for my Ethics class. He’s got some interesting ideas about what a democracy is and the role of the “sovereign power.” Here are some of the critical points:1. A ‘state of nature’ is defined as an environment where there is no political or governing body. If you were in a state of nature, you would not be a citizen of any state or government. Basically, barbarism, whether it appear noble or malevolent. There is no universal law that dictates what an individual ought or ought not do, and so, there is no “right” or “wrong.” An individual’s natural rights include the right to do whatever the individual wishes to do. This includes killing helpless people and eating babies.

2. All individuals are concerned with self-preservation above all other things (although the meaning of “self” can change somewhat: it can be argued that a mother sacrificing her own life for her own child is a type of “self” preservation, as the child is in some way a continuation of the mother).

3. Individuals can better preserve themselves when they join with others and agree not to do harm to one another and strive to do good for the group rather than the individual. This essentially brings the individual to forfeit their natural rights to the entity of the group in exchange for security.

4. By surrendering their natural rights, the individual has freely chosen to subordinate themselves to the group. The group is governed by a “sovereign power” of some sort.

5. The sovereign power’s will is the law, and it determines what is “right” or “wrong” within the group.

6. Because this new sovereign power is something that the people have freely chosen to subordinate themselves to for their own good, this is called a “Democracy.”

This is the first interesting and counter-intuitive point. We like to think of a democracy as one where no individual holds absolute power over another individual, and that the end-goal is freedom, not security. But this seems to be the opposite. However, Spinoza justifies this by arguing that because the individual has forfeited their natural rights for the sake of preservation, and that they freely chose to pursue preservation, the citizen is more capable of achieving freedom in this state (which is now equated with preservation) because and only because they have subordinated themselves to the sovereign power of the state. Furthermore, this is distinct from the rule of the typical tyrant because the tyrant/dictator commands for the end-goal of the tyrant dictator, whereas this democratic sovereign power, while possessing equal power in ordering, commands for the end-goal of the individual people.  Continuing,

7. The sovereign power, because it is identical with the power of the government, is only bound by the state of nature. Therefore, the sovereign power can do no wrong: it’s will defines what is right or wrong.

8. Anyone that disobeys the sovereign power makes themselves an enemy of the state, and the state has the right to destroy that enemy (although it may be more prudent and wise to merely punish or otherwise change the course of the enemy, such as a rehabilitation process).

So the question is, under this definition, do we as Americans live in a democracy? It seems, initially, that the answer is no. First, few people have voluntarily forfeited their natural rights to the state. Second, many people would argue that our politicians work for the end-goal of the people. Third, our “rulers” do not have absolute control.

 However, I suspect that Spinoza would say that while our state is not a pure democracy under his definition, we do possess a democracy in more ways than one might suspect. First, although we have not voluntarily forfeited our natural rights, it seems that the originators of our nation largely did. Many people fought for a new government, elected representatives, and those representatives worked to create a nation that, at least on paper, theoretically aimed to treat all people as equals (depite this not being put into practice for a very long time, if ever). And second, it would be incorrect to think of our politicians as our sovereign power in any way. Rather, it makes more sense to treat our Constitution as the soverign power, making us a constitutional democracy. The president, senate, house, and supreme court can break a higher law other than themselves, and that law is the constitution. Even if they are all in agreement with  what is legal, that does not make it so.

Because our polititicians are not the soverign power and are capable of breaking the “will” of the sovereign power, it is also possible that the politicians can become enemies of the state. So, Spinoza might argue, if President Bush, members of senate, the supreme court, police officers, etc., are acting unconstitutionally, this does not mean that the United States of America is corrupt or flawed. It means that there are very powerful enemies of the state acting to destroy the United States, whether or not they believe they are or whether or not they intend to do so.

Some might read Spinoza’s political book and conclude that there is no such a thing as just civil disobedience (example, Rosa Parks acted immorally during the famous bus episode), because in any case that one breaks the law, one is doing the “wrong” thing. However, if the law was counter to the “will” of the constitution, then Parks was not fighting against America, but for America against the enemy: our elected and appointed lawmakers.

The implications of Spinoza’s theory are powerful, because in assuming it, the thing that America is has radically changed. We often treat the state as either the actions of the government, military, and citizens. But in Spinoza’s conception, it is the constitution, and if people are behaving unconstitutionally, then these people are not defining what the United States of America is, but have rather made themselves enemies of the state, and it is then the duty of loyal Americans to destroy these enemies.

 Am I calling for rebellion? No. Rebellion would be seek the destruction and invalidation of the constitution. In Spinoza’s philosophy, rebellion is always wrong in a genuine democracy. And, if the Bush administration is acting unconstitutionally, then the Bush Administration is the true rebel, and ought to be destroyed.

 I have not here stated that the Bush administration is rebellious. I could make that argument, but I didn’t do that here. Just so you’re clear, in case you can’t read well.

Alright. Bemidjians. I love that faraway town. You know I do. But in the two-plus years I’ve lived in Chicago, I’ve fallen in love with it. Especially since I moved out of south-side Hyde Park and into Lakeview, which is a social hotspot for ages 20-35. One of the hottest in America, in fact. And yet, I still try to avoid some very thick veins of social activity, particularly along the Wrigleyville Clark St. strip, which is teeming with frat-type bars. Anyway, here are a few of my favorite places in Lakeview:

 Matilda: Anyone who’s visited me here has also visited Matilda. In the past year, this has become the staple once (or more) per week hangout. Thursday night is ours. The staff has probably missed us no more than four times. And they love us there. It’s our Cheers. Great food, decent beer & wine selection, and a very interesting decor. It’s a bit on the pricey side, and the minimum age is 23 (they can do that in Chicago!), but it’s nice because it keeps the college crowd out. Decent specials during the week (along with having a few friends that work there) make this fairly cheap if you plan it right.

The Fixx This is the coffee shop right across the street from Matilda. Everyone at The Fixx knows everyone at Matilda, and, obviously, vice versa. Very nice, very quiet coffee shop with lots of room and a very friendly staff. The mixed coffee drinks are excellent, as far as I can tell (although I usually just get a black coffee). They also have lots of open-mic (every Wednesday) and other performances.

 Sheffield’s: As far as I can tell, this is the best bar to go to in my neighborhood if you want an excellent craft-brewed beer selection. On the surface, it looks like a lot of bars in the Wrigleyville area (other than the rockin’ beer garden), but it seems to be just far enough away to avoid the worst crowds. The staff is cool, too.

For the best beer selections in Chicago, head to Hopleaf up north in Andersonville or Maproom out west in Bucktown. Yes, they serve Miller Lite. But they charge $5 per bottle, and only $3 for their current special, which has always been a great beer everytime I go. The Maproom, as far as I can tell, is better for beer, but they have almost no food. They may have free food set out or something. They also have a huge National Geographic collection. The Hopleaf has such a great food menu, you can bring your foolish non-beer drinking friends or family knowing that they’ll be satisfied as well. The Lincoln Tap Room and Longroom are also excellent for beer. The Longroom’s beer selection may even rival Hopleaf’s and Maproom’s, but it’s so smoky in there, I can’t appreciate the beer as well. I’ve heard of other bars, such as Smallbar, but I have yet to visit that one.

 Finally, I can’t talk about all these bars without mentioning Goose Island Brewery down on North and Clybourn (because the Wrigleyville location sucks).  Goose Island has the largest brewery in Chicago and an enormous range of beers. Many of these will only ever be available at the North and Clybourn location, although you can buy more popular varieties of GI across the country. They only sell their own brand of beers, but I’ve only had a couple that were mediocre at worst. And I should know. I’ve almost completed my Goose Island MBA (Masters of Beer Appreciation). 6 more beers to go!

Tonight, I’m grading student papers. Which, in case you’ve never done it yourself, is SO much fun. Students have the most creative, original ways of completely obscuring the thesis, grammatical rules, and spelling standards. At the same time, they skillfully weave every logical fallacy into a two-page, size 14.5 font, triple spaced, 1.25 inch margined paper that if you truly understood what has been accomplished, you might decide to just give them an A and set them on their way.

On the plus side (guess what…I was being sarcastic before) I decided to enjoy a little beer with a side of pizza for dinner. The beer of the week is from a Chicago suburb, the Two Brothers Brewing Company. It’s a seasonal IPA that they’ve labeled “Heavy Handed,” as in, “our hands were heavy with the hops we used for this beer.” It’s great. Much, much better than the Longhammer I wrote about before. I’m sorta color-blind, but the color looks like a beautiful, rich red (I’m not completely color-blind). The flavor is, well, hoppy, and fantastic. I also bought a 6-pack of the 60 Minute IPA from Dogfish Head that I mentioned before. I’m not going to touch that tonight, but within a couple days, I’m going to do a comparison. They’re both really good. I’m looking forward to it.

 As for the pizza, that’s really good too. But not quite as special.

“Wanderer Above a Sea of Mist,” by Casper David Friedrich (Germany), 1818.

It is ironic how much more solitude and how fewer close friends I have in the Chicago metropolis than I ever had in tiny Bemidji.

For the second weekend day in a row, I find myself awake before 4am, sitting at my desk alone, in the quiet, working and thinking. I admit I feel the pangs of loneliness more often here than I did in Bemidji. However, I still have a few very close friends here that pull me out of my cave three or so times per week.

 Overall, I enjoy this. In my class, we were recently discussing Aristotle, who argued that the only truly happy life is the contemplative, or philosophical life. His argument compels me, but it is not entirely satisfying for most (my students generally exclaim that everyone has a different happiness…of course, most of them haven’t even tried to understand the argument before criticizing it). And I’m not entirely satisfied with it, either. However, there is a great, high quality joy that accompanies legitimate contemplation. And the great lesson that all of this solitude is bringing me is that this can be actualized in my life when my life is conducted in a certain way.

That brings me to question what this “certain way of conducting life” that leads to the highest happiness might be. In practice, I am asking what the most virtuous, superior life would be. Lately, however, it is out of fashion to ask this sort of question: all people are equal, even if different. But after thinking over it for years, I reject this notion. Appreciating variation enriches life, I agree. And I am glad that there is variation in how people live their lives. But I do not agree that all of these lives are eqaully capable of achieving happiness, virtue, or worthiness, nor do that have the same inherent level of worth.* 

Once one accepts that there are more or less inferior modes of life, it doesn’t follow that there is one superior mode of life. However, it does follow that one can improve one’s life by modifying the mode of one’s life. And so it seems worthwhile to pursue an understanding of what this might be. It may seem narcissistic, but this goal may be what my life’s project has been up to this point.

Therefore, a project that I will attempt to formally begin at this point is understanding what a superior person might look like. Certainly, this has been done before and will be done again, but I would rather take up the project from scratch and see what I can come up with.

*[Everyone at birth, I agree, should be regarded equally. And ideally, they should all be afforded the same opportunity to reach their potential (our nation, in this most important sense, is not egalitarian). On the recent debate at Froyd’s Mutterings, for example, I agree that all children ought to be afforded adequate, free medical attention. Otherwise, we are effectively allowing some children more or fewer benefits based on something for which they have no control over: their parents. And while a parent ought to take care of their children, they often do not, and we ought not hold children responsible for the sins of their parents.]

 

Yay! 2009 brings the 200th birthday of ol’ Chuck and the 150th anniversary of the publication of The Origin of Species. Brothers, sisters, turtles, and pigeons rejoice! Plans for a party are already on! My goal is to be able to afford a ticket to England for this great event.

 I can’t believe I’ve made it this far without mentioning Spinoza. He’s the philosopher that I spend the most time studying. I’ve added a new webpage where I’ll be working on an examination of Part III and V of his Ethics. If you’re a Spinoza freak like me, check back every once in awhile. I’ll keep updating the blog on changes. Basically, I’ve been trying to work on an argument that equates a somewhat free, particular thing (ie, humans) with certain sorts of adequate knowledge (holding true ideas of both the cause and effect of any event). The sort of adequate knowledge I mean is that sort which is involved with a being’s striving for perseverence. If you’re not spun up on Spinoza, then that probably didn’t make much sense. And if ou are, then you should be a little suspicious by some of the things I’ve already said.

 By the way, this doll is awesome. And my birthday is coming up.

I’m keeping this in mind until the day I have kids and it comes time to educate them about the world. Thanks, Penny Arcade.

All my life. I have avoided the pursuit of money. This was a fine strategy for some time. I always had either a job or the GI Bill that provided a modest income. Certainly nothing that would ever make me rich, but it was enough to pay rent, eat what I liked, and go out with my friends a couple times per week for inexpensive entertainment.

But since June, my job came to an end. I tried hard to find employment, but despite an MA degree from an excellent school, nobody was biting. Throughout the summer, I watched a few grand rapidly dwindle away. I was confident that something would come along sooner or later, but nothing did. Eventually, I had to withdraw some savings. And then, the worst thing imaginable happened: I had to ask my dad for money. That hit me where it hurt.

 The situation has improved in one way, and worsened in another. At the very end of the summer, two colleges hired me to teach one philosophy class each. I love the job, and it puts me on track for the sort of career I would like to have later in life. However, the pay is miserable; far less than I need to pay for my rent, bills and food. I’m still dependent on daddy for the time being. I feel like a little kid and I should not be in this position. But here I am.

 Now I find myself struggling for money, but once again, nobody is biting. I have no skill in finding ways to make money. Yes, I’ve applied to coffee shops, bars, warehouses, and grocery stores. But they won’t hire me, perhaps because they consider me over-qualified. And so I find myself trying to do something, anything, on the internet to find a supplementary means of money. I’ve got a goal to start some inflow, even a small one, by December. But I’m still very unsure as to how I can use what I know to reverse the flow of my money.

 And yes, I do feel a small degree of self-hatred for my aggravated desire for money…

 “Ennui,” by Walter Sickert (German), 1913.

 Teaching has done wonders in activating my mind, and pushing it toward creativity and productivity. But somedays, a little laziness is unstoppable. Time to inject myself with a Mocha at my favorite coffee shop, The Fixx.

 

One reason that I love living in Chicago is all the resources available to me for research. Yesterday, I took a trip down to my old school, the University of Chicago, to do some research on Darwin. Nothing too intense; just verifying some citations that I picked up from some recent essays. But the sources were from books and articles written in the 1860s. The library didn’t just have reprints of these old books; they had the 1860 prints themselves. It was almost religious to flip through the smelly, dusty tomes that were falling apart, looking for some small reference to their friend Darwin. A couple of my citations were incorrect, so without any alternative citation, I had to search for bizarre clues that would lead me to the right place. It was quite the game, and I enjoyed it. I think my favorite part came at the end, when I was flipping through a truly massive book that held newspapers from the 1860s London rag The Spectator, where I found an anonymous letter (actually written by Darwin’s former mentor) criticizing Darwin’s theory as utterly ridiculous. Inside the paper, though, were just tons of ordinary articles written to Londoners about various shows, gossip, news, and other very mundane things. It gave a very personable and non-academic look into their lives, and I caught myself spending well over an hour just reading random bits addictively– sort of like blog surfing for no purpose, actually.