Federal Liberty – the seed of an idea?
‘The Swiss Reformed Protestants in the sixteenth century, following the Bible, defined liberty as federal (from the Latin foedus, meaning covenant) liberty (i.e., the liberty to live according to the terms of God’ s covenant with humanity entered into), rather than individual liberty as natural liberty.’
This quotation from Daniel J. Elazar’s article, ‘Communal Democracy and Liberal Democracy: An outside Friend’s Look at the Swiss Political Tradition’ in Publius, Vol. 23, No. 2, Communal and Individual Liberty in Swiss Federalism (Spring, 1993), pp. 3-18 (p. 13) links the theological concept of ‘covenant’ with the political concept of ‘liberty’ in a potentially fruitful way.
We tend to think of liberty exclusively in terms of the individual, and have learned to dismiss communal ideals as idealistic. But ideals are not necessarily unrealistic, and a communal form of liberty may well prove far more workable and sustaining than our bankrupt individualism, which in the light of the banking crisis and the disintegration of society, is clearly an unworkable idealism.
Filed under Books, History, Society | Comment (0)An observer of trees and characters – Book Review
Michaël Viscoli, Le signe de l’arbre: L’Horoscope celtique – votre arbre de naissance, trans by Walter Weideli (Paris: Actes Sud/Babel, 1996; first published in German as Der Keltische Baumkalender, Zürich: Migros, 1988)
The key word here is ‘arbre’, as opposed to ‘horoscope’ or ‘celtique’. Like other horoscopes, the characterisation of personality types and their attendant destinies is bland, vague, and easily applicable to almost anyone. And as a historical study of Celtic culture and beliefs, it is woefully lacking in any critical analysis, discussion, or reference to sources.
What Viscoli is good at is the observation of trees. For example, he explains how to distinguish a chestnut tree from a horsechestnut on the basis of its leaves, blossoms, and fruit (p. 79f.). He notes the medicinal properties of the birch tree (p. 34) and the culinary potential of beech-tree oil (p. 44).
The problem with Viscoli’s project is that he tries to extrapolate general truths from his observation of trees, in order to apply them directly to human life. Only occasionally does this manage to convince, as in the case of the olive tree and its ‘three secrets for a balanced life’ (p. 38):
- be frugal
- do not be afraid of transplantings
- seek the light
How Myths are Made – Book Review
Aurelio Ramos Cabellero, ‘The Spanish Civil War in Contemporary Spanish Fiction: Soldados de Salamina, Los Girasoles Ciegos, and La Mula’ (unpublished MPhil thesis, University of Birmingham, 2009) – Book Review
‘Each author creates meaning in a unique way’. So concludes the author of this thesis, drawing together two themes (the creation of meaning and the unique/particular/individual) that run throughout his analysis of three recent works of fiction relating to the Spanish Civil War.
On the subject of meaning and its creation, this thesis shows a great deal of sensitivity to the processes, and in particular the literary techniques, by which history and other stories are constructed.
With relation to ‘the individual and the particular’ (as the author phrases it in one plance), these three works are shown to focus their attention on the effects of the war in one location, or one moment in time. This is the case, for example, with the single incident investigated by the narrator/protagonist of Soldiers of Salamis, Javier Cercas. This character shares his name with the author of the novel, without necessarily being the same person – as is rightly pointed out in this thesis.
The upshot of this is that the reader’s understanding of the Civil War becomes nuanced. Things that may once have seemed certain no longer are. The Republicans are no longer totally good. The Right is no longer totally wrong. There are good and bad people on both sides, their humanity redeemed and gently mocked at the same time. Meanwhile the horrors of war in general are exposed. The authors of these three texts are sceptical of totalising narratives.
Paradoxically, these authors create new myths even as they deconstruct others. Tentatively and self-consciously, the author of Soldados de Salamina gives us a new hero figure. Yet his very reluctance to do so is itself an effective narrative technique. There is no way out of this trap.
In the works discussed, as in Ramos Caballero’s analysis of them (in which he quotes Ricoeur to good effect – see blog entry for 26 January 2010), the boundaries between history and fiction begin to blur. We are firmly in the realm of critiques of narrative such as Mark Day also offers.
Filed under Books, Europe, Narrative | Comment (0)Food for thought 2010 – Book Review
Lilo Göttermann (ed), Denkanstösse 2010: Ein Lesebuch aus Philosophie, Kultur und Wissenschaft (Munich: Piper, 2009)
Excerpts from recent publications in the natural sciences, history, politics, and philosophy/religion/psychology (the latter grouping is a category created by the editor or publisher), the title of this collection of essays means something along the lines of ‘food for thought, 2010′.
Topics covered range from the use of smell in parts of the body other than the nose (Hanns Hatt and Regine Dee) to Islamic fundamentalism post-9/11 (Gilles Kepel). Along the way there are three biographical studies, including one on the life of Darwin (David Quammen) and another on Kepler’s discoveries regarding planetary orbits (Thomas de Padova).
Clearly there is a limit to how much of an author’s thought can be communicated in such short excerpts from larger works. And a significant chunk of each contribution is taken up with scene-setting and basic introductory material, which gives the collection the popularising feel of a Reader’s Digest. The real problem with this collection, however, is its underlying assumption about the world. I discern a secularist European neoliberal agenda lurking just below the surface (and not very far below the surface in the case of Friedrich Merz or Gilles Kepel’s contributions).
Each of the political and psychological/theological/philosophical contributions touches on the subject of individual freedom in one way or another. Merz’s ‘Was ist gerecht?’ argues that a properly Platonic understanding of justice means that the individual choices of each person contribute to the overall justice or injustice of a given society. We only get the politicians we deserve (p. 121). It follows, then, that individual responsibility is the key to a well-ordered society. The state should only provide a minimum level of support (p. 124), along with the opportunities for work that will enable each person to work towards their own individual fulfilment. Merz does not ask what kind of work this is likely to be, especially in the kind of competitively capitalist society he envisages.
Similarly, Kepel argues that trade and economic development around the whole of the Mediterranean basin represent the only solution to the current problems of the Middle East and Gulf regions (p. 133).
Liberty and equality are the watchwords here, while fraternity is redefined as ‘solidarity’ by Ulrich Wickert, in his contribution ‘Weshalb Tugenden modern sind’ (p. 171). The virtues of faith, hope, and love barely get a mention by Wickert, who elides all the virtues – including progress, individualism, and profit-maximisation – into one, contemporary virtue of ‘Freiwilligkeit’, the freedom to choose (p. 173). Even Walter Jens and Hans Küng prefer to speak of God as ‘der solidarische Bundesgott’ in their article ‘Menschenwürdig sterben’ (p. 145, emphasis mine). Again, the point is that solidarity speaks more of personal responsibility than of love.
Perhaps the most interesting article is the one by Jonah Lehrer, ‘Wie sir entscheiden’. First he outlines the view, shared by Plato, Descartes, and Freud, that reason should be made to rule over the affects. Lehrer then quotes a study by António Damásio to show that people who have suffered brain damage to their orbitofrontal cortex (the seat of the emotions) may be fully rational and yet unable to make decisions. It would seem that desire and emotion are more integral to the decision-making process than a dualistic/rationalist system allows for.
Filed under Books, German, Random | Comment (0)From one man’s journals to a communal aesthetic? – Book Review
Mathieu Simonet, Les carnets blancs (Paris: Seuil, 2010)
On the face of it, the most self-indulgent project since Tracy Emin’s bed. Yet it has produced a piece of work that convinces both aesthetically and psychologically.
The concept is simple: to document the destruction or transformation of the author’s personal journals, written over a period of years and filling over 100 notebooks. Mathieu begins by rereading his old notebooks and disposing of them himself, in a variety of novel and inventive ways. So far, so self-indulgent.
But gradually other people are drawn into the project. There is a blog, on which Mathieu records the stories of his journals. One is sent around the world, where it inspires other people to share their own thoughts along the way. A young man in Lebanon takes a notebook of Mathieu’s poetry with him when he goes to the airport to meet a stranger for the first time. The notebook accompanies him and he feels a sense of presence, that he is not alone (pp. 77-78).
Simultaneously, Mathieu shares excerpts from his old journals, which turn out to be as much about other people as they are about himself. He talks about his mother and her illness, the unique personality of his grandmother, his lovers and life with his partner. These stories are updated and reflected upon throughout the book too.
Eventually, Mathieu asks other artists and members of the public to transform his journals into pieces of work. The result is an explosion of paintings, sculpture, fashion, food, and even a perfume made from pieces of a journal and inspired by its contents.
In this way, Les carnets blancs is less the memoir of one person than the story of a family and a network of relationships over a period of time. That some of the relationships are short-lived, difficult, or disappointing only makes their written traces all the more poignant. This is how the text works psychologically.
Undergirding the stories and reflections that Mathieu builds up, layer upon layer, is one simple aesthetic principle. This is something he learned from his father, who told him when he first began to keep a journal that ‘il ne fallait rien inventer, juste écrire les faits, et attendre que ça prenne de l’ampleur’ (p. 21f.). Truth is poetry.
Of course, the kind of ‘truth’ recorded in a journal is likely to be one-sided. I asked Mathieu about the ethics of writing about other people (and especially their intimate secrets) from such a subjective perspective. His response: it makes you a bastard (‘salaud’); so the goal is to minimise your bastardliness. This is why he removes some characters from the story entirely, or hides their identity. For such a self-indulgent project, Les carnets blancs is very considerate of other people and very creative in terms of community, friendship, and artistic endeavour.
Perhaps this is because it has the courage to acknowledge its own selfishness and bastardliness, opening up a space for honest encounter?
Filed under Books, French | Comment (0)