Derrida and Foucault were equal opportunity skeptics. Their form of Critical Theory was never intended to be a movement or a cudgel. They valorized the periphery but were mostly not in the business of changing policy or grabbing power, beyond their own opportunism.
Cultural conservatives are wrong to blame them for “woke-ism” and the activist class are wrong to see them as ancestors.
Both were boogie dudes who found opportunity in vice signaling their hostility to being bourgeoisie. Their ideas have use, but are not as dangerous as people think.
Chomsky signed the Harpers letter. Foucault would not have signed it, but also would not have signed a counter-letter. The hill on which he wanted to die was not free speech but the “death of the author.”
Derrida and Foucault are not alone, but their contribution is in questioning the extent to which we are agents. Their claim that agency is a product of systems outside us is, these days, rather banal, and shared across a political spectrum.
Ultimately, they can't reject some concept of agency without falling into self-contradiction. But is their conceit any different than that of Buddhists, mystics, Bayesians, or materialist neuroscientists?
Whatever you think of the critique of agency, it is patently at odds with both activism and institution building.
Dislike the postmodernists for their anthropology, but don't blame them for college campus culture, which is mostly likely nostalgia for the 60s coupled with elite overproduction.
The rise of postmodernist thought in the 70s and 80s has nothing to do with the 60s--it's actually a return to cynicism, a retreat from New Age buoyancy into self criticism.
When Bob Dylan met Foucault, both were confused. They had nothing in common. I dislike Foucault for a lot of reasons, but mainly because he was a dower misanthrope. His thought is still worth engaging.
The assumption, though, that it leads in one direction is short-sighted. To philosophize is to play with fire, not underwrite beliefs one already has. Fin.
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If you think translation choice largely doesn't matter you're likely a pragmatist. The meaning of words is how we use them. If you think it does, you're probably a romantic. Everything turns on the perfect word.
It's ironic that the foundation of Christian theology is "the Word made flesh," and yet in contrast to both Judaism and Islam that Word can be translated without any real loss in meaning. You don't need to know Greek or Latin to be a good Christian. Any Bible will do.
Christianity is pragmatic. Which is also good for missionizing. Judaism and Islam are romantic. Yes, the Torah can be learnt in translation, but one only recites a blessing on Torah read in Hebrew. The Quran is only holy in the original.
Isaac is the first Biblical character whose prayer is answered. He's also the first Biblical character who is said to love. In contrast to Abraham and Jacob, Isaac has only one wife. I connected these dots for my weekly #Torah commentary.
Abraham’s prayer on behalf of the people of Sodom and Gomorrah is arguably a morally superb one, as it is maximally disinterested, concerned with principled justice. But is it born out of love?
Abraham read Rawls, as it were, and simply quoted God “the difference principle.” “Imagine, God, that you were standing behind a veil of ignorance, and that you yourself might end up in Sodom…would you want it to be destroyed if there were 50 good people there?”
When Paul says that through faith there will be “neither Jew nor Greek, neither slave nor free, neither male nor female” (Galatians 3:8), he introduces the modern notion of the liberal individual subject, stripped of association, uprooted from tribe.
Ironically, those who today assert Christianity as an axis of resistance against liberalism fail to appreciate the ways in which Christianity itself made liberalism possible.
Hope you enjoy my podcast debut on Ari Lamm's excellent The Good Faith Effort. I had so much fun talking to this beautiful soul and insightful interviewer.
I wrote about two models of covenant, the conflict between obligation and choice, the parallels between Abraham and Rebecca, and the Torah's (complex) relationship to family life.
With thoughts on @PatrickDeneen and Pierre Manent along the way.
The pairing of Abraham and Rebecca recurs thorughout Jewish history. The first set of tablets are given to us by God, while the second set are composed by Moses.
The covenant is said to have begun when God lifted the mountain over the heads of the people and threatened them with death, while it was only ratified later, in the time of Purim, when the people “established and accepted it upon themselves.”
The one was a Scottish classical liberal, while the latter was a German conservative. The one ascribed to what Isaiah Berlin calls negative liberty, while the latter believed in positive liberty.
Yet both thinkers founded their work on the metaphor of the hand.
Critics of classical liberalism are right to suggest that belief in markets requires a kind of faith. What they often miss is that this belief also requires a sense of tradition. Things work not because they are unbreakable, but because they are capable of being reconstructed.