This morning I read an article in an old Harper's about the virtue of idleness. The author claimed, among other things, that to his way of thinking "sometimes money costs too much." I think he would grant that he's speaking to a particular economic class -- surely folks on welfare or unemployment aren't likely to agree that they work too much for matierial comforts -- but despite that it's at least thought-provoking.
I found myself agreeing with him that frenetically busy people aren't to be trusted. And while the connection he drew between the Italian early-20th century art and literary movement called the Futurists, their fascist cultural progeny, and George W. Bush seemed tenuous, it did put our current cultural situation into a useful perspective. That's about all one can expect from an article in Harper's, after all.
Along the way, he criticized our contemporary drive toward busy-ness. Education, he said, is of value to us only in relation to its serving a purpose beyond itself. It's inconceivable to many of us to think that education could be an end in itself. In classes like those I mainly teach, general education philosophy classes, where students have an opportunity to step outside of their disciplines and the grind toward degree completion, the only value many students can imagine my classes to have is serving either their educational goals or their careers later. No matter how many times I tell them I hope sincerely they learn nothing in my classes that help them in their careers, they assume I'm making a joke, or, if they realize I mean it, they become puzzled. I've yet to hear from a former student, compelled by a deep impulse to tell me that in fact nothing in my class has turned out to be relevant to his or her career or educational goals, and thanking me for it. They're probably too busy.
Meanwhile, I spent an hour or two trying to work out why critical theory is usually so opaque to students. Lauren hypothesized that critical theory asks people to examine their lives in ways they'd rather not. Granted, I said, but they don't respond as though they're resisting its critique, they respond as though it doesn't mean anything to them.
I think the trick to critical theory is pretending you can look objectively at social life. (I say "pretend," even though I'm convinced you really can to a degree. Reading Habermas has made me circumspect about these kinds of claims, because he is, despite his reputation, hip to the problems of totalizing theory and distortions of perspective.) The reactions to social criticism from any perspective rooted in Marxism tend to be (1) rejection on grounds that it's Marxist, (2) despair because of a belief that one can't fight, (3) desperation to find ways that it doesn't apply to oneself, or fatalism about one's plight, or (4) rejection on grounds that although in theory there are problems in capitalism and Marx identifies these well, it still works. None of these is apt against critical theory, as I understand it, but that's often the stance students take. But what I want to say is, the spirit of critical theory is that you have to get over yourself. If subjective perspective is part of the problem (alienation, false consciousness, etc.), then how else can it be overcome than by a stab at objectivity?
Anyway.
We resolved to bake lasagne tonight before I went off to teach Professional Ethics. It consists of layers of ricotta with some egg to make it smooth and sticky, scoops of bechemel sauce with parmigiano reggiano melted into it, a layer of sauteed spinach and mushrooms, and a layer of sliced tomato and black olives. I poured more bechemel over the top, and named it Steve.
I found myself agreeing with him that frenetically busy people aren't to be trusted. And while the connection he drew between the Italian early-20th century art and literary movement called the Futurists, their fascist cultural progeny, and George W. Bush seemed tenuous, it did put our current cultural situation into a useful perspective. That's about all one can expect from an article in Harper's, after all.
Along the way, he criticized our contemporary drive toward busy-ness. Education, he said, is of value to us only in relation to its serving a purpose beyond itself. It's inconceivable to many of us to think that education could be an end in itself. In classes like those I mainly teach, general education philosophy classes, where students have an opportunity to step outside of their disciplines and the grind toward degree completion, the only value many students can imagine my classes to have is serving either their educational goals or their careers later. No matter how many times I tell them I hope sincerely they learn nothing in my classes that help them in their careers, they assume I'm making a joke, or, if they realize I mean it, they become puzzled. I've yet to hear from a former student, compelled by a deep impulse to tell me that in fact nothing in my class has turned out to be relevant to his or her career or educational goals, and thanking me for it. They're probably too busy.
Meanwhile, I spent an hour or two trying to work out why critical theory is usually so opaque to students. Lauren hypothesized that critical theory asks people to examine their lives in ways they'd rather not. Granted, I said, but they don't respond as though they're resisting its critique, they respond as though it doesn't mean anything to them.
I think the trick to critical theory is pretending you can look objectively at social life. (I say "pretend," even though I'm convinced you really can to a degree. Reading Habermas has made me circumspect about these kinds of claims, because he is, despite his reputation, hip to the problems of totalizing theory and distortions of perspective.) The reactions to social criticism from any perspective rooted in Marxism tend to be (1) rejection on grounds that it's Marxist, (2) despair because of a belief that one can't fight, (3) desperation to find ways that it doesn't apply to oneself, or fatalism about one's plight, or (4) rejection on grounds that although in theory there are problems in capitalism and Marx identifies these well, it still works. None of these is apt against critical theory, as I understand it, but that's often the stance students take. But what I want to say is, the spirit of critical theory is that you have to get over yourself. If subjective perspective is part of the problem (alienation, false consciousness, etc.), then how else can it be overcome than by a stab at objectivity?
Anyway.
We resolved to bake lasagne tonight before I went off to teach Professional Ethics. It consists of layers of ricotta with some egg to make it smooth and sticky, scoops of bechemel sauce with parmigiano reggiano melted into it, a layer of sauteed spinach and mushrooms, and a layer of sliced tomato and black olives. I poured more bechemel over the top, and named it Steve.
Can Steve come to visit?
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