My Final Post

At the beginning of the semester liberal humanism made a lot of sense to me; after all, it's the way I learned how to study literature my whole life. I had studied Marx and Freud before, but did not know that there are critical theories based on their work. Studying Marxist criticism was a good way to begin the semester because, in my opinion, it's the most obvious and the easiest to grasp. Of course the society we live in shapes who we are, and of course there is hegemony going on; although, I don't think that societal forces control everything (nurture plays a major role, but so does nature).

Structuralism was interesting because it made me analyze language in a deeper way than I ever had before, and made me realize that meaning comes from difference between signs. And Post-structuralism was probably my favorite theory. Derrida made me conceive of the world in new ways. The idea of supplementation of the absent center made perfect sense once I thought about it; everything is in constant process of continual change, so it makes sense that this process is a supplementation of identity after identity.

This also ties into psychoanalystic theory, namely Lacan's mirror stage, where a child falsely acknowledges his/her own unified self as distinct from the 'other.' Since that mirror stage point, a child goes through life conceiving of him/herself as an 'I' but is really a plurality of egos, as Foucault talks about in his discussion of the Author Function. A writer assumes a role, a specific ego, and functions as an author, though the writer is not writing as him/herself (since there is no central essence, no self). As Barthes says, the author is dead and meaning from a text comes from the interpretations of readers. Though each interpretation is a fleeting thing, because of the supplementation of reality (though the writer, or 'scriptor' as Barthes says, has no say once the text is completed, and the reading/interpretation process will continue for as long as the text is around).

Even though this makes sense to me, I have trouble with the idea of the writer not actually writing the text. As a writer, I want to believe that what is produced by my author function had at least something to do with my conscious choices. Despite the limitations of a writer, I still think that a writer has some control over what he/she writes. After all, with control comes responsibility -- so how can I be held responsible if this post sucks, if it is not really me that is writing it? Or, if it happens to be good, how can I be praised for it? I don't deserve praise for something that I had no control over (what is the point of writing a research paper if we are not really writing it?).

So, I guess my beliefs about writing fall somewhere in the middle: a lot of what comes out through writing is unconscious, yet with conscious effort a writer can edit, revise, and shape the text, ultimately determining how it turns out. However, it can always be argued that the source of the writer's desires to consciously revise a text in specific ways came from unconscious desires before entering into consciousness. Yet, it still does not matter because the writer is able to consciously choose which desires to act upon (though the choices may be limited, the choices that are there are our only true freedom).

I enjoyed learning about feminism and post-colonialism, since they apply the theories we studied in specific ways, and opened up questions about theory vs. practice. If we know that women and colonized cultures have been are are still being oppressed, then how and when do we make change? Of course, it's not that easy. In my opinion, we must solve the problems of Capitalism in order to end these types of oppression, or perhaps find a new form of government that works better (as one of my professors said in class yesterday, all forms of government that have ever been put in place have failed; people think that capitalism will last forever, but it too will eventually fail). The most important questions to ask are where do we go from here? How do we make change for the better? How do we achieve equality and leave room for freedom, as well as not leaving room for corruption? These are perhaps the most difficult questions our society faces, but we must address them and we must find answers. Humanity is a history of adaptation; and the problems we face now are greater than ever before...we must rise to the occasion and adapt once again.

Metaphor and Reality

I am writing my research paper about metaphor. I am arguing that metaphor creates new understandings of reality, which thus evolves language. For example, the metaphor that dog is “man’s best friend” gives the signified ‘dog’ characteristics that separate ‘dog’ from 'cat' or ‘cow’ or any other animal. 'Dog' is now understood, because of this metaphor (which has become cliché through time), as the ideal animal companion. This is a connotation of 'dog' that did not always exist, which means that this metaphor has created a new conception of reality (of dog as an ideal pet), which has become so popular in our culture that our signifieds, our understandings of the signifier 'dog,' has changed. This is how, on a broader level, metaphor evolves language as a whole.

There are countless examples of metaphors that have become adopted into literal language because they provide the only way to understand something. One example (from Metaphors We Live By by Lakoff and Johnson) is Love is Magic: "She cast her spell over me. The magic is gone. I was spellbound. She had me hypnotized. I was entranced by him. I'm charmed by her." Another example is Life is a Container: "I've had a full life. Life is empty for him. There's not much left for him in life. Her life is crammed with activities. Live your life to the fullest." You get the point. Without these metaphors we wouldn't be able to put these thoughts into words. Metaphor creates new ways of understanding, new ways of conceiving reality.

Capitalism finds a new way to exploit gender stereotypes...virtual Barbie dolls

"Digital-Doll Sites Capture Interest of Young Girls"

There is a new online market, targeted towards preteen and teenage girls, that expoits and promotes gender differentiation. Companies such as Cartoon Doll Emporium and Stardoll (and pretty soon Barbie and Bratz), have websites where girls can spend hours dressing up two-dimensional, virtual dolls. "I go on there every day," eleven-year-old Hannah Reichert says. Stardoll has about 6.4 million members, 94% female. "Guys are welcome, but they really just don't get it," said Mattias Miksche, the site's chief executive. They don't get it because our culture has ingrained in our heads that girls play with dolls and boys play sports. We should be heading away from these gender stereotypes rather than embracing them. So why are these companies doing this? Obviously, because they can make a profit from it: "Stardoll has received more than $10 million in venture funding from Sequoia Capital and Index Ventures." And Cartoon Doll Emporium "collects about $30,000 a month in advertising revenue." Both companies also charge money for special dolls or outfits.

These companies are making money by expoiting gender, by reaffirming that girls should play with dolls. In fact, the audience isn't just young girls: "Ms. Stanger, a 38-year-old in Salt Lake City...spend[s] about 12 to 15 hours a week, and about $30 a month, on her own creations." So if grown women are also buying into this, where will it end? And if companies like Barbie and Bratz are about to jump on the bandwagon and make online doll-dressing even more popular, how will girls learn that there's more out there than dolls? How will girls learn that they can also play sports, or play with G.I. Joes....or do something creative where they actually use their imaginations rather than conforming to the gendered labels that culture has and is constructing? I blame capitalism. Consumption, consumption, consumption. If the mentality in this country was other than to maximize profit by maximizing consumption, maybe kids (and adults!) would have more freedom to identify with universal ideas instead of gendered conceptions of what he/she is supposed to be.

Simulation and Self

There is so much in Ken's post to think about, but I want to focus on Baudrillard's idea of simulation. Ken explains, "simulation stands in for reality, this is the order of the counterfeit or of forgery...simulation hides the absence of reality...simulation produces its own reality, as if reality was the consequence of a model that makes possible its production."

As I stated in a comment to Ken's post, I get excited when I see similarities between critical theory and scientific theory (because I'm one of those people who wants them to be compatible), and I think Baudrillard's ideas of simulation are quite similar to those of evolutionary theory and neurophilosophy -- where the general claim is that the brain creates simulations of the environment (both outside and inside the body), and a person interprets these simulations in consciousness as reality.

So for example, let me try to tackle explaining "the self." I'm not sure about Baudrillard specifically, but the other theorists we've been reading (Derrida, Barthes, Foucault, Freud, Lacan, etc.) oppose the idea of a unified, centered self; they oppose Descartes' mind-body dualism (the "ghost in the machine" idea). Instead, they promote this idea of a constructed, decentered, supplemental, plurality of egos.

Applying Baudrillard's ideas of simulation to this concept of self gives us a model for how the "I" gets created: we simulate ("model, replicate, duplicate the behavior, appearance or properties of") our unconsciousness, as well as the environment around us (we use our senses to take in information from the outside), and create a model of who we are and where we are in relation to what's going on. This model of who we are is in constant flux, in constant process of subsitution (since everything around and within us is in constant flux).

However, we perceive this model of self as being the same through time; we have this idea of "I" that is the same "I" now as it was ten years ago. This is an illusion. According to the philosopher Daniel Dennett, it's an illusion created by our brains, a simulation, a story told in which we are the narrator. The reason our brains create this story of an "I" serves evolutionary functions (survival, reproduction, social communication, and overall thriving in an environment).

So it seems that critical theory and scientific/philosophical theory are compatible in this sense. And it makes "me" wonder what I or anything else looks like from a perspective outside the confines of my body...or is perception only possible with a brain and senses? Is simulation the only possible mode of perceiving reality? If so, what is reality? And how much of it is out there (and in here) that we can't perceive.

Is writing simply "performative"?

http://blog.escdotdot.com/2007/02/01/creative-journal%E2%80%94roland-barthes-and-pierre-bourdieu%E2%80%94the-death-of-the-author/

This blogger discusses some of Barthes' concepts from "The Death of the Author." One concept I find interesting is the idea that when a "scriptor" engages in the process of writing, he/she is not creating, but performing.

This makes me think about the act of improvising. I always thought of improvisation as taking what you know and creating something new from it. For example, a guitarist works off of scales to create unique solos, incorporating styles from familiar styles of music and favorite songs. Barthes would say that the guitar solo is not an expression of the guitarist, but rather a mixture of sources from the "immense dictionary" (R&W, 187) of the guitarist.

I understand that a new creation is hardly and rarely new. Everything is influenced by a plethora of sources (overdetermination). However, I don't really understand how producing something that has never been produced in the past is not creating something new. Guitarists create new solos all the time...they are obviously similar to what influenced them, but the specific arrangement of notes and the rhythm is a new combination. Poets are of course influenced by past works, but they create poems that have never been written before.

I think Barthes would argue that a new poem is a new combination, but not a new creation. And the poet merely put things into a novel combination, as opposed to creating something outside of influences. So going back to improvisation, I think Barthes would say that the end result may be something new, but the improvisor did not choose the way it came out.

Yet, as much as I agree with that, I still can't fully accept that there isn't some degree of creativity. After all, not just any new combination of words makes a good poem, just as not just any new combo of notes makes a good guitar solo. The artist still retains some control over the end product. What I am writing right now is largely influenced by many factors, but I (as in the overall system of all that makes up my physiology and psychology...as opposed to the "I" of the constructed self) am choosing how to use what is influencing me to create what is being written. So I think that writing is performance, yes, but there is also creativity involved.

The Unconscious and Consciousness

I like Lacan's idea that the unconscious is the nucleus of one's being. Most of what we are is unconscious: our desires, which are the reasons for what we say and think and do, come from our unconscious. So how can we say we know ourselves when we have no access to our nucleus, to that which causes the majority of what is conscious and the majority of our behavior? And further, how can we be held responsible for much of what we do if we are not consciously choosing to do it?

That most of what we think and do comes from unconscious sources is not surprising when you compare humans with animals -- humans, afterall, are not so different than animals (especially when there are a lot of people in one place at the same time). However, there is something quite important that separates humans from animals: language. It allows us to have complex societies, to have complex relationships, and it allows us to have consciousness in the sense that we can contemplate our current situation, and think about our thoughts, and plan for the future, etc. (This is so because we think with language; the more complex language we have, the more complex thoughts we can have.)

And with the consciousness that language allows for, we have some control over what we say and do, though it is indeed limited (again, we're still pretty similar to animals). Though, conscious effort can affect the unconscious. What I mean is that consciousness, as limited as it may be, can shape a person in a way they choose. For example, imagine Jerard has a bad habit of biting his nails and he wants to stop. He doesn't think when he does it; he sometimes realizes that he is biting his nails while already in the process (Jerard's habit is unconscious). However, with some effort, Jerard can consciously pay attention whenever he bites his nails, and make the conscious effort to refrain from biting (and perhaps using positive reinforcement when he successfully refrains, such as rewarding himself with a piece of candy).

With enough time and effort, Jerard can stop his nailbiting habit -- a habit which was unconscious. So he used his consciousness to affect and change his unconscious. It's important to note that the habit is probably not gone completely, meaning that Jerard may pick it up again in the future. Yet, it's gone for now and for at least a while. The more Jerard consciously avoids biting his nails the less likely the habit will return.

So even though most of a person is unconscious, there is the power to consciously change. In my opinion, the reason people don't change more often is because of laziness. It's so easy to keep doing what comes natural. And in many cases what's natural is the optimal way, but not in all cases, as with Jerard's nailbiting habit. Besides, conscious effort is work. It's much easier just to bite one's nails. But it doesn't have to be that way. Language gives us the power of consciousness, which gives us the power to change that which is unconsciously caused.

Derrida's Distinction between Who and What in Love and Being

I was interested in Derrida's distinction between the "Who" and the "What" in love and Being. Usually, when someone says they are in love without another person - let's call them Jack and Jill - one thinks that Jack loves Jill as Jill (her "self" or her "soul"). However, Derrida argues that there is no self to Jill, because a self would require a center, and the universe is 'decentred.' This is the "Who" that we take for granted; we falsely assume Jill has a static essence.

Obviously, Jill changes physically as she gets older, developing in many different ways, even regenerating completely new cells - physically, Jill is a continuous process of change; even mentally, things are in constant process and Jill is always thinking of different things or in different ways (which contributes to her changing interpretation of herself). But what makes Jill at five years old the same person as Jill at tweny-five? Physically and mentally, Jill is different. She may have memories of her past, but memories are vague interpretations of truth and are unreliable (which becomes a major criticism of the psychoanalytic process, because psychologists were creating memories in their patients mind of events that never happened). So what is it that stays constant? What is it that allows us to say young Jill and old Jill are the same Jill?

The self, of course. But remember, there is no self because there is no center. Jill is "always already" changing in fluid process, meaning that at any given moment she is not a thing, not a "Who." Rather, she is a process of becoming (Sidenote: I would argue that, at one single moment, if time were paused, Jill cannot be in process because process depends on causality, and both process and causality depend on the flow of time. So what is Jill in that frozen moment? She is Jill, technically with a center, yet that center is a "substitution" as Derrida would call it, and will be something different the next moment - maybe not vastly different, but different nonetheless. But in any case, in that frozen moment Jill as Jill, as a "Who," can be interpreted, but it's an inevitably faulty interpretation since it is a fleeting identity).

So how can Jack love Jill as a "Who"? The answer is he doesn't. What Jack is in love with is Jill as "What?" This means that Jack loves what he associates with Jill, not what is part of Jill's essence.

Jack loves Jill's fiery personality. He loves the way she acts towards him, the things she says to him, and how she says them. But all these things are not Jill. Because these things can change. Very often, it is because people change in different directions that their relationships fall apart. If Jill stopped acting compassionatley and lovingly towards Jack, then Jack would see Jill differently, and he would still be in love, but he'd be in love with his idea of what Jill was, not with how he sees Jill now. This is the "What" that Derrida talks about. Jack is in love with the "Whats" that he associates with his conception of Jill's "self." If those "Whats" change drastically enough and for a long enough period of time (which is what happens when people naturally change), Jack will eventually associate these new "Whats," these new personality traits with what he currently considers Jill's self. Thus, he will no longer love Jill (except in his memories, where he keeps alive the conception of what he used to associate with her - and even that is a love of "What" not of "Who").