It's All In My Mind!

Although his theory about the reader taking the consciousness of the writer is a bit extreme, Georges Poulet’s theory about the act of reading itself is intriguing. Literature is an interesting art in that its form is not a physical object like that of painting or sculpture. Authors are artists who express themselves with language instead of physical objects. Using the theory of Poulet, the actual art within literature occurs only when a person engages with the text; otherwise the book is only a square, physical object. According to Poulet, when a person reads a book, he or she will create an unreality in the mind based on the signification within the text. Poulet writes: “I know only that, while reading, I perceive in my mind a number of significations which have made themselves at home there. Doubtless they are still objects: images, ideas, words, objects of my thought” (1321). In this sense, a text does not become an artistic object until a reader creates the form in his or her mind.

Studying both English literature and film in my undergraduate days, I’ve often pondered about the similarities between the two art forms (especially with the “film is a language” analogy, which does not quite hold up). In early film theory, prior to the age of sound, Hugo Munsterberg had an approach similar to Poulet’s in the psychological study of the act of film spectatorship. According to Munsterberg, film is the optical illusion of a series of photographs projected in a rapid succession that requires the mind of the spectator to create movement. Munsterberg writes: “We [the spectator] do not see objective reality, but a product of our own mind which binds the pictures together” (Munsterberg 402). Furthermore, Munsterberg claims that film spectatorship recreates the mental processes of memory (“bringing up pictures of the past”) and imagination (the overcoming of reality with “fancies and dreams”). Therefore, Munsterberg, like Poulet, sees the art of film occurring in the mind of the person engaging the text. These are wonderful concepts to think about when reading a book or watching a film. They sure as hell give me a great feeling of importance.

Munsterberg, Hugo. “The Means of the Photoplay.” Film Theory and Criticism: Introductory Readings. Eds. Braudy and Cohen. New York: Oxford UP, 1999. 401-407.

Nietzsche, Truth, Lies, and the American Government

“For that which is to count as ‘truth’ from this point onwards now becomes fixed, i.e. a way of designating things is invented which has the same validity and force everywhere, and the legislation of language also produces the first laws of truth, for the contrast between truth and lying comes into existence here for the first time: the liar uses the valid tokens of designation—words—to make the unreal appear to be real…He misuses the established conventions by arbitrarily switching or even inverting the names for things. If he does this in a manner that is selfish and otherwise harmful, society will no longer trust him and exclude him from its ranks. Human beings do not so much flee from being tricked as from being harmed by being tricked” (876).

I find the above quotation from Nietzsche to be of interest. From my understanding of the reading, Nietzsche claims there to be no actual truth, but only a system of concepts constructed by humans in their relationship to the world. If a person is lying, he or she is being untruthful in a manner that is selfish or in a manner that results in harm for society. This description of a liar is important because even the person “telling the truth,” according to Nietzsche, is being untruthful. The liar thus becomes someone who deceives in a manner that results in harm. Given the recent politics in the United States, I thought it would be fun to write a short, and perhaps badly written, story illustrating the construct of the concept of “freedom” and its relationship to untruth, including one that is harmful to society.

Once upon a time there was a Canadian citizen with the unfortunate name of Naseem Osama, and with the unfortunate history of having once worked in the Syrian Intelligence Service prior to his immigration to Canada. Being a benevolent man with a strong sense of family, Osama flew back to Syria one autumn to meet his parents and give them much needed emotional and financial support, as their once prosperous sheep-sheering business was under extreme hardship given the new Syrian leader’s aversion to wool, and the subsequent passing of anti-wool legislation. On a return flight, at a brief layover in New York City, United States Government authorities matched Osama’s name with one on a terrorist watch list, and Osama was formally detained.

“Why are you doing this?” Osama asked the government official. “I demand you free me at once.”

“We are fighting terrorism so as to spread freedom and liberty to all nations of the world,” the government official replied. “Even those living in the backward nations of the Middle East.”

“Oh,” Osama said. “Spreading freedom and liberty. Okay then, go for it. Can I call my wife at least, so she’ll know I won’t be home in time for supper?”

“We can’t do that,” the government official replied. “It is noted on our list that you are a terrorist.”

“In that case,” Osama replied, “I will do whatever is necessary. But I must warn you, my wife gets pretty upset if I don’t call home to tell her I’ll be late.”

During the detention, government officials demanded to know vital terrorist information that one with prior work experience in the Syrian Intelligence Agency would know. Complying with the government officials, Osama informed them that he was now a Canadian citizen and had, in fact, not worked in Syria in over twenty years. When confronted with the question as to the reason of his trip, Osama informed officials of the plight of the wool farmer of Syria, and that his trip had been one to help his sheep-sheering parents cope with such hardship. Government officials, however, noting the fact that Naseem Osama’s name was on their watch list, boarded Osama on a plane and flew him to the obscure, former-soviet republic of Kermackistan for further questioning. Once in Kermackistan, Osama was stripped naked, gagged with a cotton cloth, turned upside down, and doused with water. After several minutes of this, government officials ungagged Osama, and continued questioning.

“We need the information,” one official said.

“I told you all I know,” Osama said, “and I thought Americans weren’t allowed to torture.

“According to law, this isn’t torture,” the official said. “And we didn’t gag you. That was done by the Kermackistanis.”

“Oh,” Osama said. “I guess it’s okay then. But what is the purpose of all this? I want to be freed as soon as possible so that I can see my wife and eat her delicious tuna fish casserole. I’m sure it’s gotten quite cold by now.”

“We are spreading freedom and democracy around the world,” the official said, “so that even those unfortunate souls from the tyrannical lands of the Middle East can be free.”

“Oh,” Osama replied, scratching his head. “In that case, I don’t want to be free. Can I go home now?”

The Anagogical Reading of Sacred Text: Then and Now, As Was Prophesized

“And other sheep I have, which are not of this fold: them I also bring, and they shall be one fold, and one shepard.” -John 10:16, the King James Bible. “He [the Angel Moroni] said there was a book deposited, written upon gold plates, giving an account of the former inhabitants of this continent, and the source from which they sprang. He also said that the fullness of the everlasting Gospel was contained in it, as delivered by the Savior to the ancient inhabitants.” -Joseph Smith describing the visit of an angel, leading to his “unearthing” of what will become the Book of Mormon, 1830.

Among the four manners for interpreting the Bible, I found the anagogical method of interpretation to be of significant interest. Auerbach touches upon this when he discusses the role of the Bible for converting Celtic and Germanic peoples during the medieval age, in which the Old Testament was rejected as history of the Jewish people and instead taught as a precursor to the New Testament. Auerbach writes “the figural interpretation changed the Old Testament from a book of laws and history of the people of Israel into a series of figures of Christ and the Redemption, such as we find later in the procession of prophets in medieval theater…” (52). In this sense, the emphasis of the reader is on the anagogical, with the Old Testament standing as prophesy for the coming of Jesus. This is a fascinating concept given the anti-Semitism prevalent in Europe at the time. (How does one degrade a people whose very foundation of religion is existent in one’s own? Reject their history and focus on the spiritual teachings.) This alternative explanation for the Old Testament works when one assumes that God is outside of time and knows all that will happen, with God’s word in the Bible acting as prophesy for that which will, and has, come to pass. This method of reading the Bible becomes important for religions that incorporate preceding religions’ sacred texts. For example, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (LDS, or Mormons) famously refer to the Book of Mormon, which describes events in the Americas during Biblical times, as “Another Testament of Jesus Christ,” but also regard the Bible as being the word of God (The Doctrine of Covenants and the Pearl of Great Price round out the holy scriptures of this religion). It has often been quoted by LDS members (as Mormons refer to themselves) that the Bible directly refers to the Book of Mormon in John 10:16 (above) in which Jesus speaks of “other sheep.” In this sense, the Church of Latter-Day Saints reads this verse in an anagogical manner, somewhat in the method in which the newly converted Celts and Germans were expected to read the Old Testament in the medieval ages. The reading of the Old Testament as a series of Prophets and Redeemers also becomes interesting in the anagogical sense when applied to the history of the Latter-Day Saints, in which Joseph Smith—regarded by the Church as the Lord’s Prophet—restores the “true church” on Earth. Smith’s murder at the hands of an angry mob turn him into a martyr, and this leads to the dispelling of his people from their home in Missouri, forcing them to wander the desert until they find a permanent home in what is now Salt Lake City. Smith’s death as martyr, and the wanderings of his people—which the Church refers to as an exodus—clearly echo events in both the Old and New Testaments, creating a biblically prophetic birth of a distinctly American religion.

Derrida, Levi-Strauss' Story of the Nambikwara Cheif, Helen Keller, and the Wolf Boy from France

In Structuralism and Poststructuralism For Beginners (illustrated, of course), which I once again consulted for the arduous task of making sense of Derrida, Donald D. Palmer writes “Derrida gives a careful reading of Levi-Strauss’ ‘The Writing Lesson’ in Tristes Tropiques and shows that ‘writing’ already existed among the Nambikwara long before the arrival of the guilty anthropologist. The whole of Nambikwara culture is already based on signs—with all of the attendant Saussurean implications—and therefore it already has its own hierarchy of rank and manipulation of power” (132). As was discussed in class today, Derrida sees both literacy and orality as being the same system of signs. Using these concepts I would like again to discuss Levi-Strauss and the power structures involved in his observations of the Nambikwara tribe. Levi-Strauss writes that the chief is the first to notice the use of literacy as a tool to control others. Although this leads to Levi-Strauss’ view of literacy as a tool of enslavement, he does not take into account the Chief’s authoritarian status already established within the tribe—a status attained through orality, not literacy. If one is to assume that orality and literacy are of the same system, then is it possible to extend Levi-Strauss’ theories of written communication as tool of enslavement to all of language, including oral? In the example of the Nambikwara, the chief obtained his power through orality and it is only natural to see his seizing of written language for authoritarian purposes as an extension of his already existent power over the tribe. This also leads me to questions of the authoritarian nature of language itself. It was also discussed in class today that Derrida sees language as being intertwined with thought—one cannot think without language. Does this mean that when one begins thinking, one enters into the realm of language and is therefore subject to manipulation by power? Does this mean in order to think we must make ourselves subject to authority? The concept of the absence of thinking prior to language was also discussed in class with reference to the “wolf boys” of France. To use a film as an example, in The Wild Child (Truffaut, 1970)—to which Professor Zemka alluded in class—a doctor picks up a boy raised by wolves, and teaches him to become “civilized.” In order for the boy to become civilized, he must give himself to the authority of the doctor, who teaches him language. At one point in the film the boy rebels and escapes back to the countryside to live his life as he did—without language—prior to capture, only to return later. The boy's rebellion to authority is significant in that he is free to do as he pleases without language. The comforts the doctor gives the boy, however, outweigh this freedom, and he decides to subject himself to the doctor's authority for this gift. The authoritarian aspect of language can also be seen in the life of Helen Keller, of which, I am ashamed to say, I only know through the film The Miracle Worker (Penn, 1962). SPOILER: At the end of the film, in a glorious Hollywood ending, Keller learns the word “water” through sign language, thus beginning her entrance into “civilization” and the world outside her secluded home. Another effect of this, however, is Keller’s change of behavior. One of the primary reasons for Anne Sullivan’s (Anne Bancroft) consultation was to “tame” Keller and end her violent tantrums. In this sense, Keller's entrance to language is also an entrance to the world of authority. Ignorance is no longer an excuse for her wild behavior.