Fragment o budućnosti

Ja sam radikalno suspendirao misao o svojoj budućnosti. Ja nemam nikakvih projekcija u budućnost, nikakvih želja i nadanja koje bih mogao podastrijeti pred čitatelja. Umjesto toga, ja prihvaćam da je moja budućnost radikalno nedeterminirana (već sutra život mi se može radikalno izmijeniti ili čak mogu umrijeti). Umjesto da projiciram u budućnost, ja ostavljam svoju budućnost radikalno nedeterminiranom te iz takve prazne (ispražnjene) budućnosti crpim snagu za rad. Ipak, iako je ispražnjena od mojih subjektivnih projekcija, budućnost nije posve prazna. Budućnost je za mene istovjetna (budućoj) inteligenciji te ispunjena racionalnim normama kojima se obvezujem i u skladu s kojima oblikujem svoj projekt. Umjesto da u sadašnjosti zamišljam kakvom bih htio da moja budućnost bude te u skladu s time odabirem svoje postupke, ja prepuštam budućnosti da retroaktivno određuje moju sadašnjost, da čini od mene i moga života što joj je volja. Ja sam rob razumu (inteligenciji).  

On the work of Henry Miller

Last month I have been reading a lot of Henry Miller (I reread Tropic of Cancer and Black Spring and I also read Tropic of Capricorn for the first time). Since I think that Henry Miller is not a well-read author today, partly because of his alleged misogyny, I would like to point out what I think are the most interesting and valuable aspects of his work. But before that let me make it clear that I don't have any reservations about the importance of Henry Miller's work. He is undeniably a great writer and his work definitely deserves to be read and even studied on universities. Despite his extraordinarily uneven writing - there is hardly any other great writer from the 20th century whose writing showcases that much oscillation in quality - I still regard Miller as one of the innovators of the 20th-century novel, alongside Céline, Beckett, Guyotat, and a few others.  

First of all, there is an agreement among today's readers of Henry Miller that the sexual explicitness of his language and a few explicit sexual scenes found in his works, which is what initially got him famous, are the least interesting aspect of his work. Indeed, it is not hard to find other writers from the same period who showed much more craft and imagination in the description of human sexuality or eroticism than Henry Miller. However, that is not to say that sexuality is a negligible or unimportant aspect of his work, but simply that its most interesting expression should not be necessarily sought in sexual scenes. 

With that said, there are many interesting aspects of Miller's work which all in some way or another have to do with his innovative and experimental use of language. One of those aspects are definitely Miller's poetic descriptions and surrealist visions, such as his descriptions of Paris in Tropic of Cancer, description of Broadway during the evening rush in Tropic of Capricorn, his highly poetic account of his early life with his second wife, Mona, and others. Some of these descriptions/visions use such a violent and bizarre imaginary that will not appear again in the American literature until the publication of Burroughs' Naked Lunch.

Another aspect of Miller's work that I find particularly interesting are his reflections which often expose a kind of philosophy of immanence or ontological monism present in the narrator's worldview. There are many such examples throughout his work. It is thus not surprising that Gilles Deleuze was drawn to his work. There are even some of Deleuze's concepts and famous thesis for which it can be argued that they were influenced by Miller's reflections. 

Finally, possibly Miller's greatest contribution to literature, at least in terms of content, are his thoughts on the self. I think that at that time there was no other writer in the world who could be compared to Miller when it comes to his insights into the formation of self. This is after all not surprising if one remembers that self-revelation and self-expression stand in the center of Miller's literary project, as he himself proudly admitted on many places throughout his work. Indeed, I think that many philosophical theories of the self fall into the shadow of Miller's insights. This aspect of his work was first emphasized by George Orwell who in his essay on Tropic of Cancer, wrote that reading Henry Miller creates an impression that he wrote this especially for you, that he knows all about you, including your most intimate thoughts. This is again something of which Miller himself was well aware when he wrote in Black Spring that he believes that his personal history has universal importance. But it is important I think to add that the self into which Miller's work gives us insight is not a self of an ordinary man but a self of an exceptional individual, of a writer, artist, or philosopher. In that sense, it could be argued that Henry Miller is essentially a writer's writer. In other words, if other writers love to read his work, as many did, it is certainly because it reveals them something about themselves. This is also the way I experienced Miller's work, especially his second novel, Tropic of Capricorn. I would say that reading the works of Henry Miller had huge importance for my own understanding of myself and I would even go so far as to say that I wouldn't be the writer that I am now if there wasn't Henry Miller. 

On Ballard's High-Rise

Three years after I started, I finally completed Ballard's urban trilogy comprised of Concrete Island (1974), Crash (1973), and High-Rise (1975). I must say at the beginning that High-Rise is in my opinion the best novel in the trilogy. It has the most interesting plot which continually progresses through the novel (slow at the beginning and then speeding up as it moves towards the end) and it also creates the most engaging experience for the reader. The reason for that lies in its carefully crafted form. Ballard's novel consists of 19 chapters with three different characters as its focalization points, which periodically interchange throughout the novel. The focalization structure of the novel is thus the following: 

chapters 1-3, 10-11, 16, and 19 are narrated from the perspective of dr. Laing, a teacher at the medical school and a tenant on the 25th floor of the apartment building.

chapters 4-6, 12-13, 17, and partially the 18 are focalized through the perspective of Robert Wilder, TV reporter who lives with his wife and two children on the 2nd floor

finally, chapters 7-9, 14-15, and partially the 18 are focalized through the perspective of Anthony Royal, who is one of the architects of the building, and who lives with his wife on the 40th (the highest) floor. 

Such structure of the novel contributes to the tension of its plot. As a result, the reader learns about what is happening in the building, and about the slow decay of its tenants into madness, through the perspectives of three characters, all of whom want to use the degradation of life in the building for the realization of their own subconscious wishes, drives, and impulses.

It is a typical Ballardian story about how the modern environment (in Concrete Island), the modern technology (in Crash), and the modern architecture (in High-Rise) create new and unprecedented possibilities for the realization of the basic, animal drives in the human. Thus, each of these novels serves also as a cautionary tale about the dangers of interactions between the human animal and technology.

What makes High Rise the most accomplished of the three novels is that it integrates into itself the commitments of the previous two novels. It thematizes both the slow regression of human into animal, which is the main theme of Concrete Island, and the development of new sexual perversities, which is in the focus of Ballard's pornographic masterpiece, Crash. 

In terms of style, the novel bears all the stylistic traits characteristic of Ballard's work from that period, most notably metaphors and comparisons which establish an analogy between psycho(pato)logical states and artificial landscapes. By doing this, Ballard famously dissolves the boundary between inner and outer space. Inner space is externalized, while outer space is internalized.

Finally, the novel is permeated with Ballard's characteristically dark humor. 

Current writings

I'm currently writing four texts, all of which I hope to finish during the next NBA season (and at least two of them before the end of the year). You would guess that I must be feeling very well then, but that is not the case. As for this whole year, I'm suffering from various symptoms, wheather physiological or psychological in nature, but my brain just doesn't care: it enforces me to write. I don't write much but I write regularly: at least a few sentences per day. 

Each of these four texts will be in a different form (one is an academic text, the other is a philosophical manifesto, and then there is one text of applied philosophy and one autofictional essay). I think these four texts comprise my most ambitious and most interesting writing so far. They are the following texts:

- the scientific paper with the title "The three approaches to a literary text or towards the transcendental of the science of literature"

- my philosophical program (it is called "minor rationalism", which is a term I borrow from Eric Schmid)

- the essay on philosophies of intensity (Deleuze and Land) and ideology of intensive living

- the essay on running and some interconnected topics

* Three out of four will be written in Croatian and one in English but I plan to translate at least one more.

O budućnosti dentalne medicine

Kad otvaram postove poput ovog koji su daleko od mog primarnog područja bavljenja (književnost i filozofija) izlažem se riziku da mi se prigovori da pišem o nečemu o čemu ne znam dovoljno. Ali moj je problem između ostalog upravo taj da volim pisati o onome o čemu ne znam mnogo jer polazim od uvjerenja da pisati ima smisla samo ako se piše na rubu vlastitog (ne)znanja. 

Tako sam potaknut nekim osobnim iskustvima razmišljao o dentalnoj medicini, konkretno o njezinoj potencijalnoj budućnosti. 

Moja je teza da je kroz čitavu povijest dentalne medicine, od njezinih (pra)početaka u drevnim civilazacijama, preko razvoja moderne dentalne medicine pa sve do danas, razaznatljiv jedan dominantan, ako ne epistemološki onda pragmatički, model, a to je onaj mehanicistički. Drugim riječima, tvrdim da je dentalna medicina od svojih početaka pa sve do danas imala prvenstveno mehanički pristup spram svojeg glavnog predmeta - zuba. Pritom, da ne bi bilo zabune, moja tvrdnja nije da mehanika kao grana fizike predstavlja spoznajnu osnovu dentalne medicine, što bi naprosto bilo netočno, nego da mehanika leži u podlozi načina na koji se tretiraju (liječe) zubi od davnina pa sve do danas.

Dakako, ovo ima duboke korijene koji se protežu izvan same dentalne medicine. Osnovna je funkcija zuba sažvakavanje hrane - dakle jedna mehanička aktivnost. Nadalje, temeljni način na koji vodimo brigu o zdravlju svojih zubi jest tako što ih čistimo četkicom za zube - još jedna mehanička aktivnost. U tom kontekstu nije čudno da je i pristup dentalne medicine zubu prvenstveno mehanički. Za to uostalom postoje dobri razlozi. Jednostavno se ustanovilo da je mehaničko uklanjanje karijesom zahvaćenih dijelova zuba najbolji način njihova "liječenja". 

Pa ipak, danas znamo da zub nije nekakav dio mrtve prirode u našim ustima nego živi organ. Ono što daje život zubu jest pulpa koja se nalazi unutar njega, a koja uključuje živce i snop krvnih žila koje osiguravaju izmjenu tvari. I upravo se tu krije neistraženi ili slabo istraženi prostor dentalne medicine - u liječenju same pulpe, a ne tek u mehaničkim popravcima zuba. Nadalje, tu leži i dosad potpuno neistraženi regenerativni potencijal zuba. Naime, iako ljudski zubi ne mogu ponovno izrasti (svaki čovjek ima genetski kodiran samo jedan set zuba) i iako zub ne može zarasti nakon ozljede kao što to može primjerice kost, to ne znači da zub ne posjeduje regenerativni potencijal. Tvrdit ću da ga on posjeduje već po samoj svojoj naravi da je živ jer je sam život karakteriziran regenerativnim potencijalom. Dakako, stomatolozi će i sami priznati da pulpa daje zubu određen regenerativni, ali doduše vrlo mali kapacitet. To je istina: zub se ne može obnoviti sam od sebe, to jest može producirati dentin tek u malim količinama, a enamel uopće ne. Neka aktualna istraživanja pokazuju međutim da je supliranjem dentalne pulpe određenim kemijskim spojevima (kao što je Tideglusib) moguće potaknuti regeneraciju oštećenog dentina. Takve bi terapije mogle bitno promijeniti ishod za pacijente čiji su zubi doživjeli traumu prilikom koje je oštećena i sama pulpa ili pak u slučajevima uznapredovalog karijesa koji je prodro do same žive jezgre zuba. Umjesto danas dominante terapije vađenja pulpe i punjenja korijenskog kanala zuba, koja doduše omogućuje da se sačuva (spasi) zub (to jest ono što je od njega ostalo), ali pod cijenu njegova umrtvljenja, te bi napredne terapijske metode mogle potaknuti regeneraciju zuba. Umjesto danas dominantne metode stavljanja umjetne krunice na teško oštećen zub, što u pravilu iziskuje dodatno brušenje zuba, potaknula se bi se prirodna regeneracija samog zuba do one mjere u kojoj je ona moguća. Umjetni materijali služili bi pak isključivo kako bi se nadomjestili oni dijelovi zuba koje nije moguće regenerirati.

Razvoj i primjena tih regenerativnih metoda liječenja zuba, umjesto restauratorskog pristupa koji je obilježio dentalnu medicinu sve do danas, označili bi zaista početak novog doba u dentalnoj medicini. 

Korisni linkovi: 

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6244610/

https://kids.frontiersin.org/articles/10.3389/frym.2019.00108 

https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/instead-of-filling-cavities-dentists-may-soon-regenerate-teeth1/

 

O univerzalnosti ljubavi

Teza unutar mojeg teksta o ljubavi koja je vjerojatno izazvala najviše nedoumica kod čitatelja/slušatelja je ona u kojoj tvrdim da ljubav ne smije biti reducirana na razinu osobnog ili partikularnog, odnosno da čak i kad je tajna, ljubav nije naprosto osobna stvar. Što to znači i kako razumjeti te pomalo uznemirujuće tvrdnje? 

Što sam time htio reći mislim da se može dobro ilustrirati pri usporedbi seksualnosti i ljubavi. Naime, seksualni užici, fantazije i slično jesu uvijek nužno partikularni, što će reći da vrijede samo za specifičnu individuu ili u najboljem slučaju za određen skup individua. Moj seksualni užitak je svojstven samo meni i ne mogu ga podijeliti ni s kim drugim, pa čak ni sa svojim partnerom/partnericom, a kamoli nametati nekom drugom. Otud problem s de Sadeovim projektom univerzaliziranja užitka odnosno fantazme koja strukturira užitak, prema kojem bi svatko imao pravo nametati svakome svoj partikularni užitak. No, kao što piše Slavoj Žižek: "u samoj je prirodi fantazme da se odupire univerzalizaciji - fantazma je apsolutno partikularan način kako svatko od nas strukturira svoj 'nemogući' odnos prema traumatskoj Stvari", a "svaki pokušaj da se 'pravu na užitak' dade oblik univerzalne norme u skladu s 'kategoričkim imperativom' nužno završava u slijepoj ulici" (Slavoj Žižek, Gledanje iskosa, str. 334-335).

Ljubav, s druge strane, ima univerzalni domet. Točnije, ljubav ima i partikularnu i univerzalnu dimenziju (stranu). Partikularnost ljubavi ogleda se u načinu na koji svatko od nas doživljava ljubav na drugačiji (sebi svojstven) način te u posebnosti svake pojedinačne ljubavne veze, dok se njezina univerzalnost ogleda u tome da je svatko od nas sposoban doživjeti svijet iz perspektive različitosti i dijeliti život s drugom osobom. Zbog toga se može reći da je ljubav, to jest voljeti, generička sposobnost čovječanstva. 

Kad kažem da ljubav nije naprosto osobna stvar, to se nikako ne bi smjelo tumačiti na vulgaran način, kao da svatko ima pravo petljati se u tuđi ljubavni odnos. Ne radi se  uopće o tome da se privatno učini javnim, nego o tome da voleći drugu osobu i gradeći ljubavni odnos (vezu) s njom svatko od nas sudjeluje u nečem što ga nadilazi i što ga implicitno povezuje sa svim drugim ljudima. Ljubav se ne može posjedovati, ona nije nešto što se može posvojiti (učiniti vlastitim), već nešto u čemu se može samo sudjelovati. Ona se može (i mora) utjeloviti vlastitim životom i djelom, a to naposljetku znači biti subjektom jedne istine.

 

Quote of the day

"In their loneliness, in their dream of love or lack of it, the lost are ever drifting to the water's edge. In the immense drift of night the whistling agony of the tormented is muffled by the lap-lap of even the tiniest stream. The mind, emptied of all but the lapping of waves, grows tranquil. Rolling with the waters, the spirit that was harried folds its wings.

    The waters of the earth! Leveling, sustaining, comforting. Baptismal waters! Next to light, the most mysterious element of creation. 

    Everything passes away in time. The waters abide." 

(Henry Miller, The World of Sex)

                                      Peter Bo Rappmund, Psychohydrography, 2010

Književnost kao dio života i intenzivno iskustvo

Danas već davne 2004. u Quorumu je izišao tekst Zorana Roška "Književnost kao žanr življenja". Riječ je o svojevrsnom pop-delezovskom tekstu u kojem Roško sagledava književnost kao dio života (kao žanr življenja), a najvrjednijim u književnosti proglašava intenzivno iskustvo koje nam ona priskrbljuje dok čitamo. Roško se obrušava na klasičnu (Kantovu kao i Hegelovu) estetiku i koncept autonomije književnosti (i umjetnosti) te piše: 

"Neko 'umjetničko' djelo pamtit ćete i vrjednovati ako vam nešto znači u životu, a ne zato što ono gradi autonomnu sferu umjetnosti koja ima neki transcendentni smisao sama po sebi ili u sklopu nekog sustava ljudskog razvoja 'duha'." 

U konačnici Roško ide toliko daleko te tvrdi da nas zapravo i ne zanima književnost kao takva nego intenzivno iskustvo koje nam njezino čitanje priskrbljuje. Književnost (i umjetnost općenito) služi dakle samo kao medij (posrednik) tzv. droge života:

"Nije nas briga za umjetnost po sebi, nego za drogu života koja će nas tresnuti više i od samoga života. Snažna djela želimo jednostavno jer imaju potencijal da budu među najživotnijim dijelovima naših života, ne zato što su umjetnost. Slično tome, ne pijemo vino ili konjak jer nas zanima autonomni svijet alkohola i ne želimo biti zaljubljeni jer nas zanima autonomni svijet ljubavi i njegova opća uloga u 'razvoju' čovjeka i kozmosa. Želimo iskustva koja će biti važna, intenzivna, i nije nas u osnovi briga odakle dolaze..." 

Život se dakle, prema autoru, sastoji od potrage za intenzivnim iskustvima te je samo intenzivan život onaj vrijedan življenja. A kako su naši životi često dosadni i oskudijevaju intenzivnim iskustvima, književnost, bila ona umjetnička ili ne, služi upravo kako bi ispunila tu prazninu. 

Sve u svemu, svjetonazor koji Roško izlaže karakterističan je za naše doba: on se počeo razvijati u prvoj polovici dvadesetog stoljeća, a vrhunac dostiže u kasnom kapitalizmu druge polovice dvadesetog stoljeća. Iako mi se svidio Roškov tekst i iako cijenim to što je napisan iskreno (što autor piše na temelju osobnog iskustva) - barem se tako čini - postoje određeni problemi sa spomenutim shvaćanjem književnosti i glorificiranjem intenziteta i intenzivnog življenja na koje mislim da je vrijedno upozoriti jer se ne odnose isključivo na Roškovu poziciju, već predstavljaju vrlo raširenu koncepciju danas. 

Mislim da je Roškov svjetonazor opasan naprosto zato što mu nedostaju kriteriji za razlikovanje između "dobrog" i "lošeg" intenziteta, to jest onih intenziteta koji prate kreaciju i postajanje od onih intenziteta koji vode u ovisnost, ludilo ili čak smrt. Jednostavno rečeno, jesu li sva intenzivna iskustva jednako dobra ili poželjna? Mislim da nisu. Postoje intenzivna iskustva koja nam otvaraju nove mogućnosti života ili nas barem pozivaju da mislimo život na nove načine, a postoje intenzivna iskustva koja nas naprosto zatvaraju u začarani krug ovisnosti (droga, pornografija).[1] Problem je dakako kako pronaći kriterij njihova razlikovanja ako on nije dan, to jest ako kriterij razlikovanja ne prethodi intenzivnom iskustvu. Iako nemam odgovor na taj problem, mislim da je barem bitno suočiti se s njime (imati ga na umu) svaki put kad govorimo o intenzivnom iskustvu. Roško to ne čini i to je njegova pogreška. 

Zaključno, iako možda postoje mnoge mogućnosti života i iako možda postoji tijelo-bez-organa, svatko od nas ima samo jedan život i samo jedno tijelo - treba ih stoga znati mudro koristiti. 

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[1] O problemu "lošeg" intenziteta vidi primjerice u ovom članku. 

A poem

I don't write poems but there are exceptions. Here is one I wrote yesterday:

                                                                       Life is never boring 

Boredom and lethargy are two states of mind that never happen to me. I die and I am reborn a hundred times a day. There are moments when I think that the possibilities of life are exhausted for me and that I can't go on anymore. But then I go out in the street, meet an old friend, talk to a stranger, get to know someone new, and I suddenly spring back to life.

Life is never boring. There are thoughts constantly crossing my mind – new ideas, exciting ideas, disturbing ideas. Life is never boring – there is something waiting for you on every corner of the street.

Boredom is for those idle people who never thought, who never suffered in their life. I don't have time for being bored – I'm in a constant fight over my life.

Life is never boring. There are bodies swerving in joy and agony. There is joy and there is suffering – but no boredom.

Life is never boring – there's always more to live and more to die. 

Najava

Sutra u 22h na Trećem programu Hrvatskoga radija bit će emitiran moj esej o dating aplikacijama i ljubavi. Sam tekst bit će, uz neznatne izmjene, dostupan ovdje za nekoliko dana.

 

Felix Gonzalez-Torres – Untitled (Perfect Lovers), 1991.

What is Existential Writing?

I call existential writing those texts whose non-writing causes more suffering than writing them.

To decide not to write them is thus not an option. Whereas with most texts we choose whether to write them or not, existential texts exclude that choice. They shift the choice into the existential sphere where it is no longer a choice between writing and not writing but between writing and interminable suffering, madness, and (eventually) suicide.

Writing existential texts is often a painful process and to engage in writing these texts is never harmless because it affects the writer's existence in an immanent way. 

Existential texts are those texts that cannot be simply written. One cannot simply sit down and write them, yet one has to sit down and write them. No one can pay one or in any other way oblige one to write existential texts. Nothing extrinsic can force one to write them. These are the texts that exclusively arise from intrinsic force or coercion. They are the texts that require one's complete involvement, even on a bodily level.

Looking from the standpoint outside of writing, these are the texts that can only seem impossible to be written. Existential writing thus consists exactly in turning that „cannot be written“ (transcendence) into „cannot stop being written“ (immanence).

Although delaying to write existential texts brings suffering and exposes one to the risk of becoming mad, writing those texts does not in any way deprive one of suffering or serves as a protection against madness. On the contrary, existential texts are those texts we are ready to suffer for and even accept the risk of becoming mad in the process.  

Existential writing means engaging with the radical immanence of writing.

Steven Shaviro recently posted a short text in which he gave thoughts on the old notion/concept of transgression and its political irrelevance today. I agree with Shaviro but I would also like to indicate that critique of transgression is not anything new - in his dialogues with Claire Parnet Deleuze already in a way pointed out that transgression, favored by Bataille and some others, is not nearly as subversive as it was still thought at that time. Obviously, by now, capitalism has commodified and corporatized all our sexual and other transgressions, as Shaviro writes. Interestingly enough, similar could be said for Deleuzian politics but that is another topic, although equally well covered.

However, what troubles me a little bit is when Shaviro asks: "what can be more stupid, boring, and old-fashioned to read today than Bataille’s pornographic fiction, with its extreme (and all too typical of male intellectuals of Bataille’s generation) gynophobia?"[1] By admitting that his first book was half about Bataille, he seems to imply that it was still ok to read Bataille in the 90s but suddenly that it is not ok or simply that it is so old-fashioned to do it today. But what changed so dramatically in the last two decades, except that some other topics, such as Anthropocene, came into the focus of humanities worldwide. But couldn't have someone like Julia Kristeva or above mentioned Deleuze already said in the 80s that Bataille's fiction was passé. They certainly could have. Of course, Bataille's fiction doesn't seem subversive anymore, and the way he portrays women might be called funny or even offensive, but that is still not to say that one should not read his fiction. (Similar goes for writers such as Henry Miller and many others.) At least, there are literary qualities to his fiction that many contemporary works, much more "enlightened" in their depiction of female characters, for example, do not possess.

Secondly, I agree with Shaviro that ideas we find in contemporary or even not so contemporary SF novels - for example, that "it would be better if human beings were to go extinct, leaving the planet to other (and hopefully less rapacious) organisms" - are much more disturbing than the sexual perversions described in "transgressive" literature written by Bataille and others. That is the reason why SF novels of J.G. Ballard, not less misogynist writer, are for example so popular in contemporary academia. And I agree with Shaviro that one of the most important effects of literature is to make us think but thinking doesn't have to arise from the level of representation. So, focusing on a representation or depiction of the world isn't the only way to think with some literary text...

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[1] Personally, I wouldn't call Bataille's fiction pornographic but erotic, but that is something for another post.  

 

"Desire as given" - two meanings of expression

This is another short post that reflects on expression that I have found in other people's writings and which I have also used in my own writings but which can be differently understood, depending on from which philosophical tradition one arrives (analytic or continental). That's why I think it is important to differentiate between two meanings of the word "given":

1.) According to the first understanding, which is more frequent in the continental tradition, to be given means to acquired as such. So, when something is given, it means that it is and has always been the way we acquire it. In order to avoid misunderstandings, it is maybe best to use the extended formulation "given as such". For example, to say that desire is not given (as such) means that it is not something we are born with, or that we acquire such as it is, but, on the contrary, something that is formed through our life and our encounters with others. In other words, that it is produced.

2.) The second understanding comes from analytic tradition and refers to the phrase "the myth of the given" coined by Wilfrid Sellars. It is important to note that this second meaning of the word given is not in opposition to the first, but that it is its extension. To be given still means to be acquired, through experience or senses. However, what Sellars criticizes is a philosophical move by which something that is acquired becomes a foundation of all knowledge. Sellars thus uses the word given to refer to those philosophical concepts which escape criticism because they are taken to be "self-authenticating" or "self-evident".  And desire can be definitely understood as such concept, insofar as it is something that is experientially acquired and further used to explain all our other experiences. This is, for example, something that A.L. Chu does in her writings on gender transition and which, I must admit, I also did in my essay on her. However, when at one point in the essay I write that desire is not given, it is to be understood in the first meaning of the word given, i.e. given as such. 

Writing in/with pain/discomfort

I hesitated for a few months to write about something about which I am going to write in this post. The reason why I eventually decided to write is that this is something that is intimately intertwined with the destiny of this blog, to put it in that overly dramatic tone. If I'm not writing more and if I'm not writing about the topics I would like to write, I at least how to say why. And it isn't that I simply don't want to write. 

This is not something I like to talk or write about, especially not to people who I do not know, but I nonetheless decided to leave a note to anyone who wants to read it/might find it; after all, it is something that does not concern only me. Pain is something that concerns us all - human beings and living beings in general. 

About four years ago, when I was an aspiring undergraduate student, I accidentally injured my retina one day in spring (I do not remember the month anymore but I know it was early spring because days started to get warmer and sunnier). The injury was luckily not big; it is actually so small that it was/is not even visible to a physician. Nonetheless, it exists/persists. That accident and the injury were of course a big trauma to me, but they didn't actually cause me much trouble, except for some minor symptoms and equally minor changes in my vision to which I had to adapt. And I did. What followed was actually what I regard to be the happiest and the intellectually most fruitful period in my life. This was also the period in which I started this blog.

Unfortunately, this winter, just as I was finishing my Master's Thesis, my symptoms got worse. It was a sudden change but symptoms continued to deteriorate for a few weeks or even a month. Not significantly but they did intensify. Shortly, symptoms in my left eye (eye which was captured more by the injury) sometimes become so intense that I feel a sort of pain or at least discomfort. As a consequence of the change in the intensity of my symptoms, it has become a little bit but sometimes also significantly harder for me to read and write. By that, I mean that I have a problem keeping concentration for longer than, let's say, five or ten minutes. In other words, it has become hard for me to write and read in continuity over a longer period of time and I also get exhausted faster. 

This is the main reason why I didn't write anything on this blog for a while and why I don't know when I will start posting new content here. The symptoms, that is living with the symptoms and bearing the symptoms, exhaust me. I don't have that surplus of energy required to run a blog anymore/currently.  I try to focus all the energy that I got, that is all the energy I can retain while struggling with the symptoms, into the writings (and readings) which I find to be pressing: those texts whose writing has existential (I don't mean that in economic terms) importance for me...

* I define texts with existential importance as texts whose non-writing causes more pain and physical and psychological suffering than writing them!

 

       

Quote of the day

Quote or rather passage of the day by Daniel Sacilotto on the possibility of new transcendental epistemology, depurated from its metaphysical and anthropocentric prejudices:

"Yes, Kantian epistemology was already metaphysically contaminated. But should it follow from this that epistemology must be without exception laden by dogmatic assumptions? Or is it possible to think of an epistemology depurated from its metaphysical prejudices, as necessarily propaedeutic to ontological speculation? Yes, Kantian epistemology and its subsequent radicalization in the Continental tradition exacerbated anthropocentrism and the myopia of thought in relation to the expanses of a cosmos indifferent to our interests. But should it follow from this that every epistemology must, necessarily, be destined to anthropocentrism, trapped to the confines of thought, ideas or appearances? Or is it possible to resist the anti-realist fate assigned to epistemology and to say, instead, that it is possible to reconcile critique with a realism through which we would understand the conditions of possibility for thought insofar as it represents a reality foreign to itself? Yes, the hermeneutic and deconstructive inquiry into the history of Western metaphysics reveals the lingering reduction of being to presence as substance which initiates the ‘ontotheological’ derail. But does it follow that every metaphysical attempt will be destined to such ‘essentialism’, or that it must forever indulge in a metaphysics of presence impervious to the problematic of time? Or is it possible to reject the Platonist and Aristotelian hypostasis of substance and of essence, in sight of a future metaphysics within which process and dynamicity are inherent to the thought of being?" 

(Daniel Sacilotto, "On Philosophical Methodology: A Sellarsian Look at the Analytic/Continental Divide")

O kontingenciji u znanosti i životu

"Moja je rana postojala prije mene: ne transcendencija rane kao viša aktualnost,

nego njezina imanencija kao virtualnost uvijek unutar miljea (ravni ili polja)."

(Gilles Deleuze/Jöe Bousquet) 

Sjećam se rečenice koju je nedavno izgovorio liječnik na mojem izlasku iz ambulante, govoreći o jednoj ozlijedi koju sam pretrpio: "Tako je i tako mora ostati."

Ali ne mora tako ostati, pomislio sam. 

Ne samo da nas život uči da ništa ne mora ostati takvim kakvim jest, nego i sam razvoj znanosti, a ponajbolje se to vidi možda baš u medicini, pokazuje da nešto ne mora ostati takvim kakvim jest ili kakvim je postalo.* Ponajbolje o tome svjedoči da se neke bolesti uzrokovane genskim poremećajem koje su se nekad smatrale neizlječivima, to jest koje su se, filozofski rečeno, uzimale kao nešto dano (nešto s čime ste naprosto rođeni/došli na svijet), danas mogu liječiti.** Zato mislim da je svako inzistiranje na nužnosti u znanostima života kakva je medicina nepoželjno jer se ono u krajnjoj liniji ne oslanja na znanstvenu spoznaju nego na religijsko/metafizičko shvaćanje svijeta. 

Čini se da život u svojoj virtualnoj dimenziji posjeduje velik regenerativni potencijal koji se međutim u velikom broju vrsta ne aktivira/aktualizira sam od sebe. Znanost nam međutim danas otvara mogućnost da određenim tipom intervencije potaknemo/aktiviramo te regenerativne potencijale.  Time se ne želi reći da se život može vratiti (u doslovnom smislu) u stanje prije bolesti ili ozlijede, jer bi to u konačnici zahtijevalo vraćanje vremena, ali to uopće ne znači da oblici regeneracije nisu mogući. Ne radi se dakle o povratku na staro, nego o stvaranju novog koje po izgledu i funkcijama nalikuje starome. 

Pitanje je dakako, kad je riječ o kontingenciji, gdje povlačimo granicu. Jedna je stvar tvrditi da je sve što se događa u životu kontingnento, a posve je druga stvar tvrditi da su i sami prirodni (fizikalni) zakoni kontingnenti. Otud moje neslaganje s filozofskom pozicijom Quentina Meillassouxa (vidi moj prikaz knjige). Jednostavno smatram da samo zato što možemo misliti kontingenciju apsolutno svega (apsolutnu kontingenciju) na logički dosljedan način ne znači da takvo mišljenje donosi išta za znanost, politiku ili estetiku. U tom sam pogledu skloniji filozofiji Henryja Bergsona i Gillesa Deleuzea koji su smatrali da je sve što se događa u životu kontingnentno (podložno promjenama), ne dovodeći time u pitanje nužnost fizikalnih zakona... 

* Štoviše, ne sastoji li se sam razvoj znanosti u konstantnom pokazivanju da je ono što se dotad smatralo nužnim zapravo kontingentno?

** Za primjer vidi ovdje.

On the difference between transcendent and immanent happiness

In the Identities: Journal for Politics, Gender and Culture has recently been published my first essay written in English (see here). The text was written on the invitation of the organizers of the School for Politics and Critique which was held in Skopje (both online and in-person) from 10th to 12th of September.

The text discusses Andrea Long Chu's writings on gender and gender transition, but more specifically on the role of desire in both formation of gender and in the process of gender transition. I won't go further into the text. Instead, I will just pause a little bit on the notion of happiness as something transcendent which is contained in footnote no. 20. I would like to clarify a little bit what I meant by that and also provide a distinction between that kind of happiness (which is transcendent) and immanent happiness, the distinction which escaped me while I was writing the essay.

In short, I do not think that all happiness is transcendent as might be concluded from the essay, but I do think that the kind of happiness which Chu implies in her text "My New Vagina Won't Make Me Happy" is indeed transcendent to her desire to become a woman. So, what do I mean by the transcendent happiness for which I say that it is "attached from the outside (as a signifier) to a certain psychic/bodily state". Easiest to understand it would be to say that it is happiness on which we think when someone asks us are we happy. It is happiness that is always enunciated by the statement "I am happy" or some similar statement. When we say to ourselves or the other that we are happy, happiness is attached to our current condition by the signifier. This is transcendent happiness. It usually appears in the form of the question: would I be happy if I did this/that, will this make me happy, etc. To provide concrete examples; when we ask ourselves whether we would be happy if we had a partner, if we lived in a different town, or, as in Chu's case, if we change our sex, we are thinking of transcendent happiness. 

However, there is also immanent happiness, happiness that is immanent to life and desire. In contrast to the former happiness, this happiness is rarely enunciated and even if it is, this doesn't have any effect on it. This is happiness that just comes to us (happens to us) without us asking for it. For example, when we are with our partner, when we are running (or playing some other sport), playing/singing our favorite song, etc., happiness might just suddenly come to us and overwhelm us. This is immanent happiness. It is lived and not enunciated. But then, is this happiness not what we call joy?! 

Best novels read in 2020.

Here is the list of the best novels I read last year, some of them for the first time and some of them for the second time. Unfortunately, I haven't read many novels, let alone good or great novels last year, because I was writing a lot, so the list is scarce. The order of the novels is random. 

Luka Bekavac: Drenje (2011)

J.G. Ballard: Crash (1973)

Italo Svevo: Zeno's Conscience (1923)

Janko Polić Kamov: Isušena kaljuža (1909)

Henry Miller: Tropic of Cancer (1934)

Why I don't like New Year(s)

What is modernity (what are its defining features) and whether we still live one is a complex question. Over the last few years, I have been changing my opinion when it comes to the question if there is a single line (of progress) that can be deduced from the history of humanity. However, what I know modernity definitely isn't is this stupid yearning for the new (new understood simply as whatever comes next in the ever-shifting present) which finds one of its most vivid expressions in a cult of the New Year. 

My attitude toward New Year is summed up in the following line: 

"let the boys all sing and the boys all shout for tomorrow"

So, if this denouncement of the old (past) and embracement of the new (future) which we witness in the cult of the New Year - but where both past and future are understood merely as variations of the present (present that is gone and present that is about to come) - is what (being) "contemporary" means, then I would rather go underground!