Author: Finn Janning

PhD, a writer and a philosopher.

All women are not angels

Recently, Zoë Bossiere raised some questions regarding male writers. For example—while referring to a character in Junot Diaz’s two collections of short stories, Drown and This Is How You Lose Her—she asks: Could a sexist character like Yunior have been written if not for the abuse the women in these men’s lives suffered?

“Maybe not,” she answers.

Maybe not. But just as easily, maybe.

We tend to forget that imagination is a fundamental aspect of literature and art. I find it hard to believe that all the Scandinavian women writing crime literature are murderers. I doubt that Gillian Flynn, author of “Gone Girl,” has killed her old boyfriend, or wants to. Stephen King is probably not wildly evil, or even all that mean. And Han Kang, who wrote “The Vegetarian,” might not be a vegetarian, or like to be painted naked by her sister’s husband, or even have a sister.

Bossiere goes on and ask, “Some might argue that these works [by men]contribute to the greater canon of literature, but in the era of #MeToo, how much is ‘good’ art actually worth?”

I personally feel that it is not worth s–t if someone deliberately suffers in the process. By suffering I do not mean that, say, children might suffer due to parental distraction or absentmindedness. I mean suffering in a violent and abusive way.

Yet, I agree with the Norwegian novelist Karl Ove Knausgård who has defended writers who “run up against the limit of what cannot, shall not, should not or must not be written”, arguing that every time an author “refuses to shy away”, the arbitrary nature of such limits is revealed.

It may be difficult for many to distinguish the writer from his or her work, but it is important to do so. When we too quickly equate a person’s work of fiction with the person him or herself, it shows more a lack of imagination than moral reasoning.

Readers of course have every right to become political consumers and stop reading books by writers whose actions may be reprehensible. But I know that not everyone is Mother Teresa or the Dalai Lama, and I can accept writers with flaws. I can read Jean Genet or Ulrike Meinhof (the brain behind the Baader-Meinhof Gang that operated in Germany in the 1970s), and not feel the urge to steal or kill. Sometimes the best literature can confuse us, nauseate us, show us our moral flaws as well as our ignorance.

Still, men should not be excused on the basis of their literary genius for what they do in real life. Never. The same goes for women. It is not chauvinistic in the slightest to state that all women are not angels, just as all men are not sexual predators. Writing this, however, feels like putting a rope around my neck, because gender issues, especially in the #MeToo era, have become so contentious. Today discussion of the topic is governed by a cowboy mentality, in which everyone shoots first and asks questions later.

For example, in today’s gender debate, some men and women treat one another as men and women—not as human beings. It’s as if gender gets in the way of an unbiased interpretation of what is happening. I think it’s important to acknowledge that all kinds of judgement—about right and wrong, true or false—require time, reflection, and analysis. Today, perhaps due to social media—especially Twitter—it’s easy to contribute blindly. There is a strong herd mentality on social media.

Do we take time to dwell, to reflect, to add perspective, to provide nuance? Or do we just blame? And when we blame, are we doing so out of instinct, out of some latent hatred? And do people—writers included—consider what kind of words they are using to blame other human beings? For example, the term misogynist has become so popular and broadly used that it soon will lose its meaning.

The philosopher Kate Manne defines misogyny as not about hatred toward women but about controlling and pushing women who challenge male dominance. The crucial aspect is how men and women challenge one another—that is, whether the dialogue conveys respect, trust, and equality. In the literary and academic world, people will often defend their ideas or positions. Sometimes people do this with respect and care, other times with hostility. Sometimes it’s women being hostile; sometimes it’s men. Sometimes hostility is due to vanity, arrogance, insecurity, or plain stupidity, and sometimes it’s due to men (or women) being afraid of losing their powerful positions to women—or other men.

A recent example is a recording of a Q and A session with writers Junot Diaz and Carmen Maria Machado, during which Machado describes Diaz as a misogynist and a bully. To me, this interpretation seems wrong, but according to Manne, it’s the potential victim who defines whether Diaz is securing his power or not. And then, of course, we can interpret Machado’s actions and words, words she probably—being a writer—chose deliberately. Nietzsche said thinking is interpretation. It’s an ongoing process, and I would be very careful about labeling Diaz misogynist only on this recording or Machado a liar. Which leaves us where? Perhaps we are witnessing a power game fueled by both historical and current frustration, irritation, and hate—a situation where fiction and nonfiction merge, a situation where we no longer read novels based on their literary qualities but morally on whether the character is a good human being.

In an essay published in The New Yorker, Toni Morrison writes: “The choices made by white men, who are prepared to abandon their humanity out of fear of black men and women, suggest the true horror of lost status.” In other words, perhaps many of the problems debated today are not only about gender but much more about power.

We tend to forget that all human beings are worth the same when we focus too much on gender, skin color, or socioeconomic status. I know there is good reason for doing so (cf. Morrison’s essay on white men); still, the challenge is to encounter the present moment with an open and neutral mind full of compassion.

In short, in this quest for living equally and respectfully together, I think it is crucial that we all keep our heads cool and our hearts warm.

A note on identity politics

I concur with the point that, sometimes, the treatment of certain groups can be so cruel and unfair that you need to confront the opponent head-on, for example, the manner in which women (and men) are confronting the patriarchal culture that does not only characterize the business and academic worlds, but also, and to a greater extent, religious societies. This point is, indeed, urgent and highly welcomed.

Still, I think that the concept of identity politics is problematic. In A Thousand Plateaus, Deleuze and Guattari use the concept of the rhizome to illuminate the distinctiveness and connectivity of the multiple factors that constitute reality. “A rhizome has no beginning or end; it is always in the middle, between things, interbeing, intermezzo. The tree is filiation, but the rhizome is alliance, uniquely alliance,” they write. This concept helps us view our lives as assemblages or a mixture of words, institutions, social movements, and countless other things that, while related, are also distinct.

For example, in The Trouble with Unity, the philosopher Cristina Beltrán uses Deleuze’s concept of the rhizome to address some of the problems with identity politics. Using a simple example, she mentions the conception of Latinidad, i.e., the notion that all people from Latin America share the same group identity and cultural consciousness. She notes that many commentators tend to assume that Latinos represent a collective identity. Really? Didn’t people read Edward Said’s work? (e.g. his book Orientalism)

A similar appraisal can be observed for various minority groups, which are assumed to be special or unique instead of the more accurate assertion that we are all different people. The problem with identity politics is that it is tantamount to arborescent thinking. At its worst, arborescent thinking can suppress any other identity: men versus women, white versus black, and vegetarian versus non-vegetarian. Identity politics can also create a culture of victimization—something I often witness in Catalonia, Spain. For more than a generation, schools and politicians in Catalonia have fed the people the idea that they are not part of Spain, that Spain steals from them, and that all problems are caused by Spain. The result is that very few Catalan separatists (not Catalans per se) are prepared to take responsibility or are held accountable for their own actions, as Spain is used as a scapegoat.

Critical thinking and self-reflection, therefore, are arguably rare among people who cling to certain identities as a moral refuge. This is probably related to how convenient a certain position or identity can appear, as if by being feminist, existentialist, Catalan, black, or homosexual, we are, in any way, morally better.

Personally, I believe that Deleuze’s concept of the rhizome can help us find and create value in what takes place without being placed into fixed boxes of identity. I urge for a  more humble and inclusive approach. After all, all identities are prisons hindering us to think freely. Or as Michel Foucault once said: What does it matter who is speaking? It only matters because of hierarchies, domination, and a simple lack of equality and imagination.

What is needed is not more identity politics, but what Deleuze called non-communication, “circuit breakers” that may elude communicative control, whereby people blindly say and do what they do because this is what other people do. There is a scary herd mentality among people who cling onto certain identities.

In short: I can’t really identify 100 percent with any particular identity; however, I can empathize and care for all people.

Originally posted as a comment on the APA Philosophy Blog — (you may wish to check out the link for references to articles on identity politics, and other interesting stuff).

Og helvede?

»Og helvede?,« spørger journalisten Mónica Maristain den chilenske forfatter Roberto Bolaño, og han svarer: »Det er ligesom Ciudad Juárez, vores forbandelse og spejl, en foruroligende refleksion af vores frustrationer, og af vores berygtede fortolkning af frihed og af vores begær.«

Læs mit essay Hver eneste forbandet ting er vigtig i anledning af Roberto Bolaños fødselsdag i 1953.

Den der råber lyver

“This is the lesson that history teaches: repetition.”
Gertrude Stein

Fornylig skrev jeg en kronik i Information, der handlede om journalistikkens rolle i en postfaktuel verden. Kronikken medførte, som det engang imellem sker, at jeg modtog Lea Korsgaards pamflet: Den der råber lyver.

Korsgaard, der er chefredaktør på Zetland og forfatter til tre bøger beskriver i pamfletten, hvordan journalistikken tidligere havde den nøgne journalist, som ideal. En journalist, der ukritisk viderebragte informationer uden at tjekke, om disse var sande, relevante, væsentlige m.v. I stedet for den nøgne journalist, taler Korsgaard om, at en journalist bør være klædt på til finderspidserne. ”Med viden og kløgt.”

Ordet kløgt refererer bl.a. til Aristoteles’ begreb phronesis; en praktisk fornuft, der modsat en mere intellektuel og abstrakt fornuft kræver, at journalisten får jord under sine negle. Den kløgtige journalist graver i fakta, uddyber, nuancerer, hvorved denne ikke kun formidler, men også etablerer et fundament, hvor samfundets borgere kan se sandheden i øjnene. Hvis alt er tvivlsom eller direkte løgn, mister vi ethvert samfunds fundament: tilliden.

Jeg læste denne lille pamflet samtidig med at jeg i El Pais læste en artikel, der hævdede, at pamfletten har genvundet sin popularitet. Pamfletten kan – qua sin størrelse – bringe den intellektuelle ind i samfundsdebatten, her og nu. En pamflet er et aktuelt nedslag; en optimering eller kvalificering af debatten, hvilket Den der råber lyver, lever op til.

Artiklen i El Pais nævner bl.a. den spanske forfatter Eduardo Mendozas pamflet Hvad sker der i Catalonien, og filosoffen Fernando Savaters pamflet Mod separatisme. Sidstnævnte beskriver, hvor skadelige de catalanske separatisters kamp er – rent demokratisk og medmenneskeligt – fordi de både eliminerer fornuften og borgerbegrebet. De catalanske separatister, skriver Savater, tilsidesætter loven, mens de lader følelserne drive gæk med dem, skønt disse følelser ofte ikke har belæg i noget sandt. Eller de lader loven favorisere dem, der mener det samme, som dem selv, hvilket jo strider imod lovens opgave, der bør behandle alle lige.

Der råbes meget i Spanien, men mest af alt blandt de catalanske separatister. De eksemplificerer glimrende Korsgaards titel. Så det var både med glæde og irritation, at jeg læste Korsgaards pamflet: Glæde, fordi den er relevant; irritation, fordi den kastede mig tilbage i en debat, som jeg ellers havde besluttet mig, at forlade. (Jeg har tidligere skrevet artiklerne: Grumset catalansk nationalisme (2014), Catalonien mellem frihed og kontrol (2017), om manglen på medfølelse i essayet Compassion in Catalonia, om hvordan hadet til Spanien bevæger sig fra catalanske forældre til deres børn i essayet The Boy in the Classroom, om den psykiske terror i kommentarerne Cataloniens separatister udøver psykisk vold mod sine modstandere og Cataloniens frihedskamp er endt i undertrykkelse).

Og nu er jeg her igen! Det catalanske projekt er ikke et fysisk voldeligt projekt, men mentalt kontrollerende og manipulerende. De, der ikke har blik for det, lever stadigvæk i Michel Foucaults Disciplinærsamfund, hvor mennesket opdrages i lukkede systemer: børnehave, skole, arbejdsplads, fængsler, etc. I dag lever vi snarere i det Gilles Delueze kaldte et Kontrolsamfund. Her er der ingen tydelige grænser, hvorfor vi også nemmere forfører og kontrollerer os selv. Det gør vi, fordi vi gerne vil passe ind (eller undgå eksklusion), opnå social anerkendelse eller identitet m.v. I praksis betyder det, at vi bliver offer for vores egne gerninger. Præcis ligesom, når mange ukritisk deler alt på nettet, hvorefter de forbløffes over, at al denne information måske anvendes af nogle.

Det, som præger de catalanske separatister er, hvad organisationsteoretikere kalder ”groupthink.” De ophøjer egen moral, mens de gør sig resistente overfor enhver kritik. Dette hænger sammen med udviklingen af en forførerende diskurs, som de catalanske politikere i årevis har tvangsfodret deres boger med.

For det første, selvom de lever godt i Catalonien, kan de leve endnu bedre, fortælles det,  hvis bare de slipper af med Spanien. Spanien stjæler jo! For det andet, de catalanske separatister skal aldrig stå til ansvar for deres fejl og mangler, fordi de har altid Spanien at bebrejde. Det betyder, at de catalanske separatister har skabt en offer-kultur uden et konkret etisk fundament, der jo kræver evnen til at stå til regnskab for ens egne gerninger, som Kierkegaard har sagt.

Resultatet er, at Catalonien for separatisterne er blevet en slags utopi, hvilket jeg har skrevet om i kronikken Catalonierne opfører sig som en selvretfærdig part i et ægteskabelig krise. En utopi er det gode sted, som ikke er. Et sted, der begæres, idet det henter næring i sit udtalte had til Spanien, mens de drømmer om frihed og demokrati. Dog ikke demokrati forstået som en tredeling af magten, da de catalanske separatister gerne arbejder tæt sammen med politiet. Det er nu heller ikke demokrati, forstået som en organisering af uenighed, hvilket er filosoffen Jacques Ranciéres definition, idet de, som er uenige ignoreres eller, per automatik, kaldes fascister. Eksempel er der flere spaniere, der ønsker at bevæge sig fra et monarki til en republik, flere (rigtig mange), som finder Rajoys regering inkompetent, etc. Her kunne der sagtens etableres et samarbejde på tværs af alle Spaniens regioner, men det er svært, fordi præmissen jo er, at det er Spaniens skyld. Ligeledes er der flere catalanske journalister og kunstnere, der har forladt regionen, fordi de ikke var tilhængere af catalansk uafhængighed, hvorfor de ikke kunne finde arbejde, de blev udstødt m.v.

Med hensyn til frihed, så handler det jo ikke kun om, at blive fri fra Spanien, hvilket i praksis betyder, fri fra at tage del i et demokratiske arbejde, fx den grundlov, som de selv har underskrevet. Frihed handler eksempelvis også om, at være fri til at skabe nye veje, der ikke bare går destruktivt imod, men som snarere innovativt og kreativt går imod, idet nye alternativer skabes. Det kreative og innovative mangler. Personligt oplever jeg, at Barcelona de seneste ti år er blevet mere provinsiel og mindre radikal, idet megen kritik ender i en karikatur, hvor alt kendes på forhånd: Spanien er ond, de catalanske separatister er gode. Selvom enkelte slagord dukker op, såsom feminisme og økologi, så udleves de ikke mere her, end andre steder i verden, hvor de også er efterspurgte. I Madrid er der progressive øko-feminister, for eksempel.

Der mangler i Spanien og Catalonien, det, som Korsgaard kalder en lidenskabelig etisk journalist. En, der fasterholder, ”at kendsgerninger er mere værd end anekdoter.”

Anekdoter om Spaniens fascistiske historier er der nok af, men kendsgerningen er, at den spanske borgerkrig sluttede i Madrid, hvor den største modstand mod Franco var; kendsgerningen er, at flere cataloniere hyldede Franco for hans religiøse familieværdier; kendsgerningen er, at den tidligere catalanske præsident Puyol, ønskede immigranter til Catalonien, der ikke talte spansk, fordi de så ville lære catalansk; kendsgerningen er, at den catalanske sprogpolitik får Dansk folkeparti til at fremstå, som de mest kærlige; kendsgerningen er, at de catalanske skoler accepterer stærke politiske symboler og retorik, fx som når forældre hænger bannere eller balloner på skolen fuld af slagord; kendsgerning er, at medier slet ikke viste Marlene Winds debat med Puigdemont i fjernsynet, de viste blot en statsmand, der ukritisk indtog Danmark, etc.

I stedet for ukritisk, at løbe med den forførerende retorik, kunne en turist i Catalonien spørge sig selv, om folket her virkelig lider, om de lever i en diktatorstat, etc. Under borgerkrigen kunne Cataloniere ikke samles i grupper på mere end fire-fem personer, i dag vandrer de rundt i gaderne, hvilket jo netop understreger, at der er demokrati.

Det er kompliceret, men ikke mere komplekst, end der er tale om en veludført strategi, der udfældes i medier og til dels i skoler og familier. Filosoffen Victoria Camp taler om mental manipulation, hvor Spanien gradvist er blevet elimineret fra den kollektive catalanske bevidsthed. Hun nævner sågar, hvordan hendes egen børn blev manipuleret i skolen. Dette projekt går flere år tilbage. Når jeg taler med unge studerende i Barcelona (dette er ikke et videnskabeligt studie, men baseret på samtaler med 13-15 forskellige drenge og piger i alderen 1-20 år, som alle er uafhængighedstilhængere), og spørger dem: Hvorfor vil I uafhængighed? Svarer de prompte: Spanien er fascistisk. Når jeg så siger: Virkelig! Hvorfor vil I uafhængighed? Svarer de: Jamen sådan var det i min familie, i skolen var holdningen gerne sådan, at Spanien var de onde…

Journalistikken må vedblive at være ”fællesskabets trykte dagbog,” citerer Korsgaard sociologen Robert E. Park for at sige. Denne dagbog mangler i Catalonien, hvilket jo selvfølgelig er hele Spaniens ansvar. De mangler generelt en forsoningsproces a la den, som Mandela foretog i Sydafrika. Det er pga. uvidenhed, at løgne, manipulationer og hadet, har det så nemt. Helt simpelt, som en buddhist munk engang har sagt, hvis du forstår, så hader du ikke. Jeg tror reelt ikke, at catalanske separatister forstår den spanske historie i al dens uperfekthed og storhed; den historie, som de selv er en del af. Ligesom mange i Spanien ikke forstår den frustration og det mindreværdskompleks – der præger mange i Catalonien – med tiden er blevet til had og arrogance.

Spanien er et demokrati, et ungt og skrøbeligt demokrati, men at kalde Spanien for Franco-land er ligeså forrykt, som at kalde Tyskland for Hitler-land. Modsat af hvad der forefindes i Catalonien, så er der en kritisk debat i Spanien – også af præsidenten Rajoy. I Catalonien behandler separatisterne, der ellers kommer fra vildt forskellige partier, alle Puigdemont som paven, fordi de deler et had. De catalanske separatister har skabt en religion, hvor objektet ikke er en kærlig Gud, men et had til Spanien. Dette er bekymrende uanset, hvor relevant meget af kritikken af regeringen i Madrid, så end er.

Og på den måde gentager historien sikkert sig selv. Michel Serres har skrevet om, hvordan Romerriget blev bygget på død og had. Modsat Gandhis fantastiske ikkevolds strategi, så har de catalanske separatister intet imod at lyve. At lyve bevidst er, mener jeg, noget ganske voldsomt, fordi det undergraver respekt og tillid, som politikerne og medierne burde skabe. Tillid og mellemmenneskelig respekt er to ting, som der ikke er meget af p.t. i Catalonien.

Min italienske ven og filosof, som er bosiddende her i Barcelona, frygter et nyt Jugoslavien, selv frygter jeg ikke …, men jeg håber, at journalistikken bliver endnu bedre, end den er.

Lea Korsgaards pamflet er et glimrende sted at begynde.

We’re All Accountable

… From my essay on sexism, morality, identity politics, and compassion:

“I remember Rebecca Solnit saying something about men being the problem—not all men, but men. And she’s almost right. Because men, as philosopher Simone de Beauvoir said about women, aren’t born men; they become men. Weinstein didn’t come into this world as a sick misogynist. He, like all those like him, was formed by the culture in which he was brought up.

Luckily, I think, I spent a lot of time with my mother and my sister. Yet, many small boys spend time with their mothers, and less time with their fathers … or, at least, they used to. Does this mean that even women—some mothers—are favouring their sons? Encouraging them to see themselves as better than girls? Telling their daughters to passively obey?”

Read the entire essay here.

Philosophical Counseling

Some years ago, I was teaching a course in Philosophical Counseling. To my surprise, all that the students wanted to know was “What is the right thing to do?” Having that knowledge, they assumed, would make life easier. “Perhaps,” I said, “but not better or more interesting.”

Their request is part of the obsessive achievement eagerness of today’s society to perform well according to fixed ideals. It creates dullness when it comes to mental exercises. The unfortunate norm is the faster the better. I told them that philosophy is about developing problems, not delivering solutions. It’s a slow practice. It’s for life. My answer made them fidget with impatience. To philosophize, I emphasized, is to dwell on the fundamental questions, and these questions are developed in problems, just as the problems are enveloped in fundamental questions.

Yet, my students insisted: “So, what is the right question?”

I told them that this particular question was related to the problem embedded in the question. For example, how do you draw a clear distinction between right and wrong?

The ones who weren’t paying attention looked up from their screens.

In sports, where the rules are given, I said, it is rather obvious to tell whether a player is “doing it wrong.” Similarly, in business, where profit seems to guide every decision, knowing what is right and wrong may be easier. Life, however, is neither a game nor a business, although there is a tendency to classify people into winners and loser as if life were that simple. Such labeling is part of today’s achievement society. Everyone’s performance is measured according to an ideal–and ideal that is often related to the staus, prestige, power, and, of course, money that is associated with being a winner.

They went silent, so I went on. Of course, there are things in life that are rather obvious. For instance, no one needs philosophy to tell you that it is wrong to kill, discriminate against, or repress other people. Instead, philosophy begins when we start to questioning the obvious. Could I live another life? What is also possible? How may I also live?

A part of philosophy is to accept that some problems remain without solution; some questions can’t be answered once and for all.

Such a question is Which life is worth living?

Of course, one of my students then asked me: “Which life is worth living?”

This is how A Philosophy of Mindfulness – A Journey with Deleuze begins.

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Gratitude

I’m somewhere high among white clouds between Copenhagen and Barcelona, on my way back home to the latter. Suspended at this altitude, I’m struck by a sentimental notion.

A short time ago, I said goodbye to my parents in front of the airport. They stood quietly, waving, while I disappeared into the building. I recall this picture. It’s a picture filled with affection. Gratitude. I’m grateful. They know this. My actions speak volumes, to be sure, even though I do nothing.

Perhaps this is why I discern, no, actually, I recognize and feel a stifling doubt: How can I be sure that they know? Have I thanked them? Then, I think: thanked them for what? At this point, I rise to my feet and retrieve my computer from my rucksack in the luggage compartment overhead.

My parents are older than me. That’s the usual way of things, but they’re older in a way revealing that there are bigger divides between some generations than others. They were among the Baby Boomers born in the ’40s.

I probably belong in the mathematically unknown generation known as X, which is also linked to Y. Somewhere in between. I’m too young for Douglas Coupland and far too old for Miley Cyrus. Somewhere between ‘just too late’ and ‘a little too early’ is how I’ve always perceived myself.

Read the rest of the essay here

Mod det falske

Løgn, manipulation og strategisk forførelse er, og har altid været, en del af den politiske dagligdag. Nogle vil mene: en del af alles dagligdag.

Jeg vil forsøge at tydeliggøre, at et for ensidigt fokus på ”post-truth” reelt overser noget mere essentielt, nemlig en tiltagende skødesløs omgang med livet. Internettet og især de sociale medier har fremmet en nonchalant tilgang til livet, der har forvandlet os til forbrugere uden reel indsigt i, hvad vi vil. Vi er blevet forført til afhængighed. Det indebærer også, at information opfattes som gyldig, i det omfang den stemmer overens med vores egne interesser – i det omfang den er brugbar for mig.

Læs resten af essayet i Eftertryk

Et demokrati kræver myndige mennesker

“Journalisten er den, som kan tilføre information en etisk såvel som æstetisk ramme. En ramme, der ikke kun handler om at behage læseren, men også om at oplyse, støde, problematisere og fabulere. Gode journalister er gode observatører; de er gode til at tolke det, som sker, hvorved de formår at give informationerne et skær af saglighed, som læseren derefter kan vurdere fornuften af ved hjælp af forstand.”

Fra min kronik Et demokrati kræver myndige mennesker. Det skal journalistikken hjælpe med bragt i Information. Den påpeger vigtigheden af den gode journalistik i en ’postfaktuel æra’, fordi den kan træne, pleje og skærpe den kollektive forstand. Modsat skaber den mindre gode journalister umyndige læsere, der ikke længere evner at skelne mellem sandt og falsk.

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