Tag: Deleuze

Spain: between two extremes

Albert Camus once described a nationalist as someone who loves their country too much.

I recently wrote a small reflection on Catalonia based on my experiences of living in Barcelona for more than ten years. This reflection was not – contrary to what some might think – motivated by a certain political position. I think all political positions are legal, but not all are equally reasonable.

Instead, I wrote it because I am professionally interested in how a group of people finds ways to feel superior to another group of people. It happens everywhere, not just in politics, not just in Spain. This, for me, is the lowest part of what makes us human: the need to discriminate, to find someone else to put down.

It’s a tendency practiced by Catalan separatists – not by all Catalans as such. That is to say – with emphasis – Catalonia does not have a problem with Spain, but some people in Catalonia do.

The Catalan separatists or nationalists, however, are not alone. There exist at least two extreme groups in Spain. On one side, you have the Catalan separatists, who see themselves as victims superior to the rest of Spain. They operate with one logic: regardless of the problem, it’s always Spain’s fault, and independence is always the solution.

Such logic is convenient because it hinders any kind of critical self-reflection.

One the other side, the extremists are Spanish nationalists, who use more or less the same rhetorical strategy: an emotional, almost sentimental tone, self-victimization, and self-righteousness.

In between the two extremes exist many critical, nuanced, reflective voices full of compassion and respect. They exist in Catalonia and the rest of Spain. Unfortunately, many journalists tend to focus on the drama of the extremes – perhaps myself included in my previous opinion.

During my stay in Spain, I have travelled around this beautiful country and spoken with people in different cities, such as Santiago Compostela, Vigo, Girona, Valencia, Sevilla, Cordoba, Granada, and Madrid, and many small pueblos. I’ve seen the flourishing of ecological and feminist awareness. I’ve seen willingness to explore and reconcile with the country’s past.

Travelling around Spain, I have met people who are proud of the divergence and plurality of customs, languages, and cultures in their country. They are proud of being part of something richer than their own region. It’s something rather special. It recalls what French philosopher Gilles Deleuze aimed at when he spoke about how we can maintain our singularity and still be part of something bigger: not by reducing these differences, not by becoming the same, but by nurturing our differences with respect for others’ differences. There is something generous in this approach.

A possible road away from these two extremes might be to implement teaching of philosophy and critical thinking in public schools. Educate empathic, kind, critical citizens who respect different opinions but always question from where they emerge, while appealing to the good in your opponent’s human qualities. Make sure that future citizens have both the knowledge and the courage to use their minds. Today, many people tend to only listen to opinions that suit their own beliefs.

Another important element is to cultivate a more critical journalism that avoids being seduced by the populistic rhetoric of the Catalan separatist as well as the Spanish nationalist. Instead, journalists can try to unfold the plural voices guided not by resentment but by curiosity and compassion. Critical journalism can help us reflect by asking the right questions, not by giving solutions. Consensus never guarantees truth; instead, what I aim at is a pluralism that unfolds any given situation in various perspectives. Critical journalists can emphasize that being against Spain per se (or any other group of people) is literally being against everyone and everything but yourself. It’s discrimination. It’s narcissism even.

‘The problem is the big, fat ego,’ as the philosopher Iris Murdoch once said. Or, as I would put it: holders of all extreme positions are, by definition, either too lazy to think or too ignorant to do so!

I’ve seen all kinds of people living here, all forms of life. Spain is not a perfect democracy (if such a thing even exists), but between the two extremes, a generous and kind people emerges. They are the reason why I live here.

Finn Janning, PhD, is a writer and philosopher.

First published in Spain in English.

The philosophy of Byung-Chul Han

The French philosopher Gilles Deleuze once said: “There is no need to fear or hope, but only to look for new weapons.”

‘Weapons’ may give us the wrong associations, but what he refers to are concepts that, like a brick, can be used to destroy what is hindering the growth of our lives, and at the same time, help us build or create something sustainable.

The Korean philosopher Byung-Chul Han’s work can be seen a toolbox aimed at helping us understand our contemporary society, while also presenting us with concrete ideas, thoughts or ‘weapons’ that might help us overcome or resist our own weak desires and vanities.

Read the rest of my portrait of Byung-Chul Han that I wrote for The Mindful Word 

My review of The expulsion of the other

My review of In the Swarm

My review of Saving beauty

A small feature on Han, can be read here.

Shouldn’t I say something out of love?

Readers of the stream of philosophical blogging that I have produced during the last few years will be familiar with the Korean philosopher Byung-Chul Han. Behind me, I have 11 or 12 of his books—small essays to be more exact—and some of them I have mentioned here, here, and here.

In The Expulsion of the Other (2018), Han continues his analysis of our everyday existence in today’s achievement society. The Other is expulsed due to the terror of the Same.

“In that hell of sameness, humans are nothing but remote-controlled puppets.”

Expanding on this idea, Han returns to the question “Why?”. He claims that if it becomes irrelevant, nothing is understood, then adds, “knowledge is understanding … Insight in an emphatic sense is also transformative.” That philosophical thinking is transformative is well known, but some philosophers—especially phenomenalists—may differ regarding the Why-question, claiming that it leads to unending regress: because, because, because. Instead, for example, Merleau-Ponty would prefer How- and What-questions.

Still, Han’s errand is to illustrate that when everything is reduced to the Same, we become blind or deaf because the strangeness or even the painfulness of the Other is erased. The world turns flat and boring. After all, the subject of seduction is the Other: “the Other as eros.”

Eros is part of thinking, an idea that Han developed in his essay The Agony of Eros; it’s Eros that makes us courageous enough to take a step into the unknown.

Continuing, Han stresses that neoliberalism is not guided by reason; quite on the contrary the freedom of neoliberalism is an advertisement: “… freedom itself is exploited. People willingly exploits themselves under the illusion of realizing themselves.”

“We do it to ourselves,” as Radiohead once sang, “and that’s what really hurts.”

The ideas that Han present here are not new. He has repeated these, at least, since the publication of Müdigkeitsgesellschaft in 2010 (English, The Burnout Society, 2017). But still, like repeating a good joke, small nuances are added.

Han’s style is Hegelian; he operates in dualism. It makes him easy to follow but at times he misses, at least in my opinion, the blurry gap in between. For example, Sameness is bad because it makes us numb whereas the Other opens us for thinking; negativity is good because it challenges and affects us, whereas the terror of positivity makes us empty; love is the answer whereas today’s narcissism and the endless string of selfies only creates emptiness and depression; it’s better to listen than just communicate. Lastly, today’s notion of authenticity is “the self’s neoliberal form of production.”

It’s difficult not to agree. Today people optimize their bodies and souls to become attractive, sellable commodities. Status, prestige, and power are guided by the market, not by love as a political and transformative power.

Still, when Han quotes Deleuze for saying, “Playing the fool has always been a function of philosophy” because the philosopher breaks with the predominant, i.e., the Same, Han tends to be against or opposing the Same from an opposite position. Black or white. However, in my opinion, Deleuze’s philosophy doesn’t create an opposition to a dominant position; rather he is more prepositional, more immanent, placed in the midst of life pointing out new forms of life.

Han, on the other hand, is transcendental. I sense his German roots, Hegel and especially Heidegger, when it comes to truth and origin. He tends to aim at reawakening an “original animal” within. For example, he follows Heidegger’s concept of Eigenlichkeit, the potential for being that suffers from the seductive power of They (Das Man). We are narcissistic in the eyes of the Other because we want to be liked and followed by them, but Han want us to be more true to ourselves regardless what They say and feel. Intuitively I follow him (although I understand the self as a changing process of becoming, not something solid but something else), and similar ideas can be found, for instance, in psychologist Edward Deci’s Why We Do What We Do, where he writes, “…narcissism involves desperately seeking affirmation from others.”

Narcissism is not the result of Eigenlichkeit, but is its antithesis.

Continuing, Han writes that the constant hypercommunication “destroys both you and closeness. Relationships are replaced by connections.”

How do we overcome the terror of positivity, the hell of Sameness?  Han suggests that we use listening as a generous invitation for another to speak. “Listening is a bestowal, a giving, a gift. It helps the Other to speak in the first place.” My silence, therefore, expresses a hospitality.

In conclusion, Han tells us what most of us already know, but unfortunately many find it difficult to live up to: Love is the answer. “Only eros is capable of freeing the I from depression, from narcissistic entanglement in itself.”

What Han doesn’t explore sufficiently in this essay is the delicate balance between a healthy self-love (I would call it self-care) and narcissism; that is, today many people are selling love, praying love, even acting lovingly but in a way that seems to be fueled by their desire for status and prestige related to being a loving person. There is a political correctness that has even invaded love, playing with Heidegger’s distinction between Eigenlichkeit and Das Man; authenticity and They.

It could be interesting to relate his ideas to Spinoza, who defines love as the increase of our joy, as well as of our power to act and think, with the recognition of an external cause. His love is social. Thus, instead of striving to be honest towards myself (Eigenlichkeit), maybe I should try to engage with love and care for others. In a way it would make better sense to love my wife than myself because her love makes me more powerful and joyous. And, therefore, I can act with more compassion socially.

I’m not sure that Han would disagree with these preliminary thoughts; still, what he gains in his accessible and stimulating analysis is perhaps what I miss: a more thorough study where the treatment and diagnosis hang together better. For example, yes, we should listen, but what do we do when what we hear is unacceptable, such as misogyny, racism, and extreme nationalism? Shouldn’t I say something out of love?

If love is the answer, then it means that when there is no doubt, there is love. Seen in this light, Han’s book is full of compassion because every time love is absent, we should doubt, imagine, think … how to enhance love.

 

First published in Metapsychology, Volume 22, Issue 43

How Should I Live?

Before I try to give a decent answer, I would like to emphasize that I’m glad the question is personal. It refers to me, not you, or someone else. I don’t like moralizing, that is, telling other people how they should live, but I do like the element of self-knowledge and care that this question addresses.

Thus, “How should I live?” I should live a joyous life.

Life, of course, is full of both joy and sadness, suffering and pleasure. Some of these are related to individual limitations, e.g. intellectual abilities. Others are related to social or political circumstances, e.g. financial.

Still, a useful guide is to live in a way that enhances a life’s joyous moments regardless of the circumstances.

How do I do that? From the French philosopher Gilles Deleuze, I’ve learned that we always have the thoughts and feelings that we deserve. At first this can seem brutally arrogant, but what he aims at is that our mental state depends on how we relate to or approach our experiences. The challenge that we all share, regardless of setback or misfortunes, is how we become worthy of what is happening. This is not acceptance as a kind of resignation; rather, it’s an approach to life that confronts obstacles or setbacks by trying to create a new form of life that minimizes the effects of what is hindering ourselves from living freely.

Therefore, I should live as a compassionate fighter, that is, become a person that fights by exploring what a life may become. What is possible? I fight hate, discrimination, domination, violence, etc. because it kills life. And by involving myself in this fight — although I have to acknowledge my intellectual limitations – I feel better. Actually, I feel alive. And to live a joyous life is to have an intimate affair with life, to experiment, and dance with it.

I remember the Chilean writer Roberto Bolaño once said that children typically are full of joy, and then he wondered why it’s so, before answering, that they are alive.

It sounds like a tautology: a joyous life is synonymous with how I should live because joy emerges through appreciation of being alive, which I accomplish by destroying  everything that seem to hinder life from flourishing, just as I create room for things that flourish. Nothing comes for free, except death.

Joy and happiness require hard work.

Compassion – Toward an Ethics of Mindfulness

This work is guided by two hypotheses with one overall objective of establishing an ethics of mindfulness . The first hypothesis is the concept of moral motivator or in- tentional moral. Both Western philosophy and mindfulness operate with an intention influenced by their moral beliefs. The second hypothesis is the relationship between moral reasoning and wisdom. That is, our reasoning is affected by our moral belief . To combine those two theses, I introduce the concept compassion from mindfulness and the ethics based on the French philosopher Gilles Deleuze. Hereby, I suggest that by practicing mindfulness, one can develop his or her capacity for compassion, but also – this practice – is a «way of life» that can help protect the planet: an ethical practice.

Read the entire paper here: Compassion – Toward an Ethics of Mindfulness.

“Compassion – Toward an Ethics of Mindfulness” is published in the journal Mindfulness & Compassion, vol. 3, issue 1.

#MeToo exists in an ethical twilight zone

What do we think about when we think of the #MeToo movement? #MeToo is many things—it’s complex and conflicting; it addresses our collective memory (or lack thereof) and history; it touches upon social and economic class, religion, race, and, of course, most of all on gender. And it touches upon the glue of our society: trust.

A few weeks ago, I heard that the Boston Review had decided to keep the writer Junot Díaz on as a fiction editor. Yesterday, the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) cleared Díaz of allegations of sexual misconduct and verbal abuse.

In many ways, the whole “Junot Diaz case” can be placed within the post-truth era of fake news, which again is one of ethics. For example, the journalist Ralph Keyes claims in The Post-Truth Era: Dishonesty and Deception in Contemporary Life, “Deception has become commonplace at all levels of contemporary life.” He goes on to consider that we may have reached a stage in our social evolution that is “beyond honesty.”

The era of post-truth is also an era of moralism. Everything is too easily reduced to good and bad, as if no grey areas exist. This is also part of the rigid identity politics that characterize US politics today, which far too often produce a mindless label—as if only a black person can speak against racism, a homosexual against homophobia, a woman against male abusers. Such assumptions show a lack of imagination. They also avoid staring at all the grey areas. For example, the grey areas are probably the weakest points in the otherwise powerful and very welcome #MeToo movement, in which the Junot Díaz case can be placed since it deals with a man of power accused of behaving badly.

Morality typically deals with whether something is right or wrong. However, being moral is not always the same as being right. For example, a story isn’t true because its moral is, and vice versa. Furthermore, morality is not something unchangeable; rather, it’s a social artefact. Our moral norms change as a result of new knowledge. This knowledge, of course, should be convincing, valid, reliable, and trustworthy. Unfortunately, lack of trust seems to be the protagonist in this particular case.

“Post-truthfulness exists in an ethical twilight zone,” Keyes writes. “It allows us to dissemble without considering ourselves dishonest. When our behavior conflicts with our values, what we’re most likely to do is reconceive our values.” Keyes’ point is interesting. One of Díaz’s main accusers was the writer Carmen Maria Machado, who referred to a Q & A session she had with Díaz, where she claims he was “abusive”, “bullying” and “misogynist.” However, when confronted with a recording of this particular discussion, Machado was forced to admit she had been exaggerating, saying, “I’m not a victim of Junot Díaz. I’m a female writer who had a weird interaction with him.”

Weird, of course, is not necessarily misogynist.

Why did she lie? Did she deliberately stretch her wording to fit the #MeToo vocabulary? So far, Machado has not apologized—perhaps because she is afraid of people’s hate and judgment, or afraid of losing face, or afraid of being accused of lack of empathy. Or, maybe, she doesn’t care, maybe she distrust the institutions who cleared him… no one knows. However, what’s “interesting” is that Machado’s accusations violate trust, which we all need to coexist, regardless of age, gender, religion or sexual orientation, etc.

In an essay entitled “Truth and Politics“, the philosopher Hannah Arendt wrote, “Freedom of opinion is a farce unless factual information is guaranteed and that facts themselves are not in dispute.” Truth, therefore, is not the same as having an opinion. For example, Machado might have the opinion that the she was verbally abused, but in reality she is fictionalizing the truth, or creating “alternative facts” as we call it today.

***

The Danish philosopher K.E. Løgstrup said that trust is elementary or fundamental to human existence. Would I leave my three children at a public school every morning if I didn’t trust the teachers? Would I cross the street with them if I didn’t trust people to stop their cars at a red light?

Trust binds us together. It affects marriages, friendships, parents, and society, including politicians and scientists who inform us about the ecological disasters that humans are creating. Løgstrup emphasizes that human interdependence only works if we trust one another. Trust allows me to surrender myself into the hands of another, to make myself vulnerable, because I expect a respectful, compassionate, and trustful feedback.

Therefore, when Carmen Maria Machado lied about Díaz, it was not just a little white lie. Her words impacted everyone. Not only because she accused a well-known writer but because we trusted her. Some may have been skeptical of the validity of the accusations—thinking of sensationalism, etc., but, at the same time, #MeToo taught us the importance of believing the girls and women who had come forward so courageously. For too long, the victim has suffered unnecessarily because being a victim has been associated with shame. Shame is the reason why many women (and men) and children don’t tell about abuse.

When I discovered that Machado lied and didn’t correct her words until she was confronted a month later with an audio recording of the interview, she became less believable. When she was confronted with a recording, she appears annoyed and defensive but, surprisingly, she also appears to be angry for being exposed. “Stop lecturing!” she said. “That’s what’s so fucking weird. The level of condescension.”

And this is perhaps the saddest part. It may cause people to doubt the sincerity of #MeToo. Machado’s behavior perfectly fits with our cultural acceptance of lying. As Keyes notes in The Post-Truth Era regarding the rise in the use of euphemisms for deception: “We no longer tell lies. Instead we ‘misspeak.’ We ‘exaggerate.’ We ‘exercise poor judgment.’ ‘Mistakes were made,’ we say.” It’s as if we—many, at least—have become careless of what is true or not true.

If we want to change society into something better—a society based on equality, respect, and compassion—then we must trust one another. Trust is also the foundation of critical thinking because we assume that people say what they mean for the sake of the truth, not their own agenda (read: self-serving).

We become wiser by admitting our mistakes, that is to say be accountable for our actions and words, but also by acknowledging all the grey areas when it comes to human interaction, not just between men and women but between all kinds of identities—gender, race, age, culture, beliefs, etc. Let’s not forgot that all identities are prisons. They might make us see something more clearly from our own point of view but are often blind to a lot of other aspects. Let’s not forget that men and women should be able to discuss things without fearing being labeled misogynistic. Let’s not forget that nothing is ever completely black or white. Sometimes women lie, use their power; sometimes men are falsely accused.

The great writer Terry Tempest Williams once said that she wanted to bear witness to both the beauty and pain of our world in her writing. By “bearing witness,” she said, “the story told can provide a healing ground.” With regard to the case of Machado and Díaz, healing arises if their conflict is not used to draw a deeper ravine between genders but, instead, to acknowledge that all parties have suffered, and that trust is only gained through apology and change of actions that will make the grey areas less grey.

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).

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.

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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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

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