The Socialist Republic of Strohs

[An Introduction]

I live in a town with a huge inferiority complex. In the shadows of the big city of Mumm, our larger (twice Strohs population), modern (multiple shopping districts) and sophisticated (a hip downton) neighbor, Strohs is often left with pie on its face and a pain in its groin for its lack of imagination for and embrace of the Industry. In fact, my city council’s decisions to not suckle the nip of commerce, while speaking out against our wars and providing a damn fine recycling program, for the last few decades led many Mummites to cleverly call Strohs “The Socialist Republic of …” in the countless columns they write to the local record of news (actually, another Midwestern edition of the AP). Most Sunday morning editions have a least one letter-to-the-editor that begins, “Well, I thought Strohs could not top themselves, but they have done it again …” or “Can you believe what the Socialist Republic did this week …”

Mumm’s fascination with all things Strohs has always been a sense of pride. But the sneers of Mumm may have seeped into the psyche of Strohs for we now have signs in the southeast corner of town proclaiming it an Official Business Zone, but sadly that business zone closes more doors than it hosts grand openings. But our free-market savior of course has ridden in on the backs of the third world, a giant DamMart has opened up at the edge of our borders. Now, some of the Sunday morning letters start: “Well, finally Strohs is figuring it out …”

But our “relative-we-don’t-talk-about” relationship with Mumm is still deeply rooted. It is not without coincidence that Strohs houses the only two “gentleman’s clubs” in the area, for workers of Strohs and their bosses from Mumm to visit and grope, and we have equal number adult bookstores as Mumm, but hey, at least Strohs does not make them build a protective wall around its perimeter.

Strohs still carries a chip on its shoulder, as the two towns share the areas primary industry: a state university. Yet, Strohs is often forgotten when the University is mentioned (another brick for the chip on our shoulder). Strohs is the usual mix, found in most college towns, of academics and locals, two populations with a constant undercurrent of tension.

Recently, the University sent out an email reminding all students, faculty and employees to be careful at night, as there has been a rash of late-night attacks. Every few years, usually in the summer, we see that tension on display as a few kicks are given out for kicks. Sadly this tension produced a recent story in our edition of the AP that declared the rise in crime is a direct result in a massive influx of “problem” residents from the Metropolitan City a hundred miles away. As Strohs takes in the big city’s rejects, the article proclaimed, a whole host of problems have blanketed the town. The euphemisms of the article are the tragic reminder of the story we do not talk about. Instead, our tiny little burg is now a sociological example of “white flight” as three small towns now circle Strohs and Mumm, complete with gated communities protecting replica houses and the population on their welcome signs is changed each year.

But Strohs keeps finding its way: it is one of handful of municipalities in the state that protects ex-felons and sexual orientation in its Human Rights Ordinance, is home to a mix of DIY record labels, a handful of cool bars and restaurants (but clearly not enough), the best golf course in the area, an ever-growing Independent Media Center, and some of the coolest parks in the Midwest. So, people of Strohs remember the words of the Czech proverb: “A fine beer may be judged with only one sip, but it’s better to be thoroughly sure.”

Part One in the Series
Coming Soon: My Neighbor David

Argument: Toby Keith v. Eminem

I start a new structured feature today: Argument

I'll be teaching a course titled Argumentation this coming fall and am looking for ways to "get" to the students. Auditus suggested music which I had already planned for a section on "Invitational Rhetoric." But now I'll move a couple of songs to an introduction to Argument:

Toby Keith v. Eminem

The contrast between Keith's "Courtesy of the Red, White & Blue" and Eminem's "Mosh" is extreme in a thousand directions. On the obvious level, the country tune is the patriotic tune. Keith employs every verbal icon he can: Fourth of July, America, U.S.A., eagle will fly, Uncle Sam, Red White & Blue, Statue of Liberty, justice, mother freedom. In contrast Eminem plays the American by taking his free speech right to criticize the President in the most contentious manner possible: "Fuck Bush." This rap/hip-hop song employs an anger with American politics, racism and warmongering as its center. But Eminem also appeals to patriotic motifs as when he raps "Let us beg to differ," "the stars and stripes."

Both use fathers in polar opposite manners. Keith employs his father to make an emotional argument about how soldiers have died for the flag. The synecdoches are manifest here - flag for country, Keith's father for the millions of soldiers who have died. Eminem, by contrast employs fatherhood as historical example. In "Mosh," Eminem suggests that Bush Jr. might want to impress "daddy" by strapping on an AK-47 and going to Iraq to fight the war himself.

Sonically, Keith has a chorus come in to buttress his argument as if "All Americans" (his phrase) come together to celebrate the flag and kick the asses of the bad guys as if we're all a giant cowboy posse. And the electric guitar solo, while reiterating genre, suggests the flying eagle that he speaks about in the song. The end of the song employs the sound of bells as if to reiterate Keith's use of the term bell in the song and, of course, the liberty bell. Eminem also uses sound to great effect though in more ways. "Mosh" opens with an interpretation of the funeral march which then threads through the entire song. He also employs the sound of children as if to remind us of our adult responsibilities (Keith talked about children raising the flag but doesn't use them sonically). And the finale is an extraordinary sonic reference to Martin Luther King. Eminem uses echo to imitate the sound of MLK's antiwar speeches during the 1960s. I wonder if this last is a matter of genre. Eminem can take more liberties with Rap/Hip-Hop than Keith with Commercial Country.

These songs define stereotypes. Keith's is blunt, blatant and not thoughtful. It is generic. But that's why it works. He uses arguments from emotion and patriotism and his sonic metaphors (eagle flying, liberty bell) reiterate what he explicitly says in the song. Republicans marshall the same kinds of arguments, their messages reflected in Keith's repeated choruses. Eminem uses sonic metaphors and verbal metaphors, often without explanation, providing his audience with enthymemetic arguments that allow listeners to assume responsibility for making their own arguments (another reference to the sound of children). I can listen to Keith's song twice and get the whole message. With Eminem, I'm still picking up metaphors, references, enthymemetic arguments . . .. Far closer to the Democrats and their messy messages. Indeed, there is less repetition in Eminem.

What A Strange Set of Occurrences: The WTF Chronicles

One of my old friends who lives with his wife in Milano—they are both Italian, not Americans living abroad—had a baby sometime in the last year. How I missed the pregnancy and the birth is easy enough to explain, as Davide lost my address and I am a slacker. Still, WTF? Life moves on at such a clip that I feel like I am running atop a race car.

Reading Sheryl Gay Stolberg’s June 27th article in the New York Times, “Bush Says Report on Bank Data Was Disgraceful,” I am reminded that freedom of the press in America continues to be threatened. Hey everyone, welcome back to the dark side of the ‘50s. Your celebrity tour guide for this decade will be Joseph R. McCarthy, played by Dick Cheney.

I am really enjoying this World Cup thing. Yes, I played football (soccer) as a youth, but I seriously sucked. My interest in this sport is like my appreciation of hockey, gymnastics, or martial arts: look at the amazingly graceful things people can do with their bodies while moving at tremendous speed.

Staying focused on my work is more difficult than I ever imagine it to be. One would think that at this age I would have a better handle on myself, when really I am like a kite whose owner has just released the string and I am floating directionless in the forceful gale of my desires and procrastinations. These are the moments when I really suck—WTF again! (For the record, I don’t like using exclamation marks, so the presence of one here is noteworthy.)

The lead singer from Keane has an amazing voice, as does the woman singing on Hefner’s “Waited All Night.” What a delicious talent—to sing in glorious strains of passion and intensity. This item doesn’t properly belong here, but listening to their songs can be pleasurably distracting, which is somewhat WTF depending on what one is doing.

And last but not least, the battle rap between Audi, The Saurus, and Definer was ridiculous fun. Maybe you don’t agree, but there were moments when Audi and Definer rocked the house. At the minimum, trying on these rhetorical personas has been amusing as all get out.

The Kids Are (Al)Right

A friend of mine teaches third grade in a western state of these United States. Still reeling from the trauma of September Eleventh in the classroom, and my friend struggling to balance (1) the aftermath of three thousand deaths, fear, paranoia, outrage and the frightening images that bombarded and overturned the students’ lives with (2) the hope to teach lessons regarding the consequences of overreaction, stereotyping, and blood-thirsty revenge, all against the backdrop of Red State parents and communities loading up on weaponry and supplies, the crackle of the principal’s speaker box invaded the classroom.

The principal solemnly announced over the loud speaker to Nimitz Elementary School: “Students, as of 8:15 this morning, the United States military has begun bombing Iraq.”

One of the students, slightly hysterical, blurted out: “What, they’re bombing the bike rack” as the entire classroom moved in unison to the window to watch as their first taste of freedom was to be obliterated by a bevy of Massive Ordinance Air Blasts (MOAB) and CBU-97 sensor-fused bomblets. And my friend laughed, and waited a moment before correcting the mistake.

[For this entry, I am not even entering the discussion about what could have possibly motivated the principal to make this announcement, but welcome any comments]

Yet, was it a mistake the students made, or really the exact question no one was asking Washington leading up to our war? Our country’s foreign policy has been led by a desperation (masked by righteousness) since its inception, so the arbitrariness and absurdity of our entrance to war has been successfully hidden time and time again. Bombing a bike rack or impoverished countries for the last fifty years, both are just as random and now just as likely. Maybe the kids should be worried, there have been Chaney / Rumsfeld sightings at public pools, local malls, and ice cream shops throughout New Mexico.

What's So Funny

Dearest Members of the Blogosphere:

I am not funny in this medium. Hell, much of the time I may not be that funny in other mediums either, except for Jell-O, but that is another story. Anyway, I have been reading a simply riotous blog by one of those clever Brits. Comic relief is not my self appointed role here, but I like to make people laugh. I mean, Definer is funny, especially that bit about Poly. Their special relationship is funny too, but they don’t talk about it publicly.

Many of the American blogs I read are whiny, not funny. Don’t get me wrong, we seem to be great at bitching, but our best comedy comes by way of our leaders. Excessive pride coupled with good intentions can be tragedy; hubris and craven self-interest is pure comedy, except for those poor souls losing life and limb for failing drug policies/oil/economic advantage etc. This is not to make light of the tragedies of the world conducted in our name by leaders less than interested in their publics or the futures of the countries they are sworn to protect, but I just wish more Americans got the joke and stopped vociferously, or tacitly, supporting their leaders who have blatantly lied and stolen. Were that to take place, comedy might be more than cathartic—it might be instructive. For now, I console myself with the sound of hollow laughter and wait for the larger audience to notice that the emperor has no clothes (I have stolen this idea from Definer, so props to you).

And there we have it—three short paragraphs purportedly about humor, but really just griping. Damn it, someone post something devastatingly funny yet enlightening. Auditus, I am calling you out on this one. Either that or we start up another series of entries about religion. Religion and spirituality are always funny, right?

Positive Definition

Term: Positive Definition
Method: Positive Definition

Positive definition is a kind of diaeresis by which objects are classified according to genus and species. Kenneth Burke explains positively defined terms thus: “They name par excellence the things of experience, the hic et nunc, and they are defined per genus et differentiam, as with the vocabulary of biological classification…. A positive term is most unambiguously itself when it names a visible and tangible thing which can be located in time and place.” But this is problematic as the visible and the tangible are culturally constructed. As Edmund Burke noted in his 1759 essay on vision, “when we define, we seem in danger of circumscribing nature within the bounds of our own notions.”

Positive definition also hides itself in cultural assumptions. As Michel Foucault discovered, “knowledge develops in accordance with a whole interplay of envelopes; the hidden element takes on the form and rhythm of the hidden content, which means that, like a veil, it is transparent.” A veil of course hides everything but the veil itself. In other words, the power to define is the power to make visible or transparent, while veiling power itself. We do not normally critique the authority of dictionaries, but these are nothing more than veils.

Raphaelle Peale played with the idea of the veil in his painting Venus Rising from the Sea – A Deception (1822). The work, a trompe l’oeil, employs what appears to be a real veil to hide the painting underneath it, a nude Venus. But the handkerchief only appears to hang by shiny pins from a string. In the end, only the veil itself is transparent. The veil illustrates the hidden element of knowledge. Dorothy cannot be permitted to see the man behind the curtain.

Name Change

I define, I name, I re-name. After all, I'm the definer. But the new blog title is curtesy of my bad memory. Thesaurus suggested on his behalf and on behalf of Auditus, that the old name (Definitions) did not convey the multifaceted, post-modern approach that we take to this blog. And Thesaurus provided a good title for the new name . . . which I forgot. Thus Polyvalence.

Enlightenment

Term: Enlightenment
Method: Contrast

The Enlightenment was a period of contrasts. OK, pretty vague eh? Even now we think of the Enlightenment as one of two things: 1) that period in history when we got serious about science and human rights or 2) those weirdo new agers who eat granola, hug trees, bleed out of their hearts, practice Eastern styles of exercise . . . (hmmm, since when did I become a new ager?). Way back when "Enlightenment" was set in contrast to the "Dark Ages." That's right - one group could see and the other was blind. But I'm beginning to think that the group that could see wasn't much better than Plato's caveman who only sees shadows of a performance he can never understand (kind of like listening to Chinese when the only word you know is tofu). You see, those Enlightenment heavies (I too can contrast), imposed upon the world a new order of things complete with penitentiaries, mandatory education, and opiates for the people like McDonald's and sitting in front of a TV. Thus the Enlightenment really is about making people heavy - the heavier they are, the harder it will be for them to fight back against that order of things. Thus, Enlightenment, I rename thee Enfattenment.

Los Angeles and Youth

Those of you keeping up with my posts may note that I have been mining my past for material, which is not all that surprising given my age and what I have been reading. Along these lines, in my research I have come across a rather trivial book called the Hollywood Handbook, a collection of disparate contributions edited by the owner of the Chateau Marmont, André Balazs. Incidentally, if you have never had the pleasure of visiting the Chateau Marmont then I highly recommend it; I used to attend poetry readings at this most idiosyncratic and idyllic of Los Angeles hotels and loved it. The history of the property is fascinating: Howard Hughes, Billy Wilder, Greta Garbo, numerous film producers, rock bands of all sorts, all had a relationship to this structure. But let me take leave of the Chateau for other parts of the Los Angeles of my twenties in order to make a point about time and place.

A favorite memory of mine is following the winding asphalt of Mulholland Drive after midnight with a female friend so glamorous she even managed to make smoking look good. Taking a slow drag on her Camel cigarette, she would tell me about the life and boyfriends she left on the East Coast, all the while carefully navigating the blind corners and sharp turns above the lights of Hollywood just below us. If I had to define what stylish meant then I would put forth A----- and her late night drives. These might be my best examples of urban cool filtered through youthful angst and childhood trauma, and is there anything more glamorously LA than that?

I also used to spend time in the coffee houses around La Brea Boulevard. Before Keanu became as famous as he is now, he used to frequent the first of many favorite java joints—the Living Room. His antique motorcycle parked out front was often the sign that he was on the scene. We all knew who he was, but he seemed to have very little attitude and liked conversation, though unofficial LA policy was to ignore the famous unless the individual in question initiated contact. And no, he and I never chatted.

Somehow, Hollywood only grew more intriguing the seedier it became. For instance, I used to frequent a club in an older section of town. Standing outside this old building, with a nondescript bathhouse across the street, cinematic history seemed tangible, maybe because the patina of abuse and degradation were etched so clearly in the architecture and neighborhood. My desperation for living and that marking the city itself aligned themselves in a frightening and fascinating way.

If you have never lived in Los Angeles then you cannot appreciate the tranquility that descends on the city after 2:00 a.m. At the right time of the year, the sounds of traffic fade and the night air takes on this deliciously thick quality. Another favorite memory is listening to a Cowboy Junkies album at this late hour around a card table full of wine glasses, the screen door the only barrier between the four of us and the whispered invitation of a late night in Los Angeles. Mercy, I love moments like that one. In fact, I think my appreciation of great conversation was crystallized on this evening, and has led in a rather circuitous route to graduate school.

Jumping back to the present moment, I want to draw a connection. Namely my afternoon today was spent in the company of some good friends watching World Cup football (soccer to the Yanks), and then discussing life, school, and love over beer at a favorite pub. These moments of my thirties are likely to be grist for the mill of my future selves, although I don’t know if my fascination with geography and space will be amalgamated in the same fashion that I have done with Los Angeles here. In truth, I miss aspects my California youth, though I no longer desire to return to the individual I was then. All of which is to say that neither time nor place are experienced simply or solely at the moment at which they are lived. Rather, they are layered, revisited, and re-experienced in countless ways. (By the way, if these ideas about space seem interesting then I suggest Doreen Massey’s essay, “A Global Sense of Place”.)

What say you readers: How does the past and space inform the present and shape your futures?

The Point of the Journey

Term: Journey
Method: The Tao Ching

Neil Peart (see below) has a pithy translation of one of Lau-Tzu's pieces of wisdom from the Tao Ching. It reads simply "the point of the journey is not to arrive." I give this advice to my students on the last day of class without explanation, though I provide the codicil, "I hope that you think of this over the course of your lifetimes." Eighteen-year-olds aren't particularly self-reflexive so I figure it's best to let them find their own way, but with hints.

Anyway Peart's pithune is a negative definition. The point of the journey is NOT to arrive. What is it then? The point of the journey is everything but to arrive. It is life, not death. It is the world passing by, not a complete stop. It is consciousness, not unconsciousness.

Recommended Reading: Lau Tzu, "The Tao Ching"
Recommended Listening: Rush (lyrics by Neil Peart), "Prime Mover" from Hold Your Fire (1987)

Blog News

Two quick notes:

First, Definitions is happy to rectify an oversight by including Blogos as a link. Now that we know where you are, others may find you. And Blogos links to Gukira. Cool!

Second, we congratulate Clio on winning a fellowship. We knew that Clio could write well and now a foundation in California has determined that she is also a great researcher. Given your upcoming trip to Oregon, we may start calling you West-Coast TA.

Colorful Rag Unfurled

Term: Flag
Method: Alliteration/Metaphor/Rhyme

About twenty years ago, Neil Peart penned the phrase “colorful rag unfurled” for a lyric. There is much to love about the passage, set as it is in a song that condemns patriotism, jingoism and xenophobia. Obviously, the phrase refers to flag. But it does so in four different ways which help to define the word. Set in its context, the object is a reflection of patriotism, thus helping to define the term. Furthermore, rag rhymes with flag thus giving us a phonetic aspect of the definition. Additionally, rag is a metaphor for flag, each being a piece of fabric bearing colors and patterns. But rag, of course, has a negative connotation thus further defining flag. And the alliteration in this phrase is brilliant. It is not the typical and generic kind like "floating, fleeing fling" but rather a more subtle and more powerful because more compact alliteration. See how the letters f and l appear before and after rag “-----f-l rag –-f—-l—-” Brilliant. Thus the phonetic pronunciation of flag is referred to again. And now we know how it sounds and what it means.

Grad School Hope

Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover Grad Student (This is a reference to a bad song lyric, so chill out)

An unnamed graduate student alerted me a posting on her advisor’s blog praising the attributes of all three of her advisees (here’s the link: http://dhawhee.blogs.com/d_hawhee/2006/06/encomium_on_my_.html).

In sum, I am impressed and jealous. The advisor in question conducts difficult and interesting research, has an obvious sense of humor, and is just cool. Now, I quite enjoy my own advisor, and he too is the cat’s meow in many ways. Still, I don’t expect, or deserve, such praise, but knowing that there are others out there willing to give it makes my weekend. Hope emerges from the most interesting circumstances, don’t you think?

Getting In On The Act

As chagrined as I am to admit this, I have come to the conclusion as of late that I have been operating under the misguided notion that I was training to be an academic; what has commanded my thinking for the last month or so about successful academics is that they are writers (or poets, musicians, painters, filmmakers, etc.). Instead of trying to better society with supposedly superior logic, I need to focus on the compelling articulation of ideas that strike me as important. Yes, this is a grandiose oversimplification on which I could be duly charged. Still, in the end my work focuses on transmitting ideas to others via the vehicle of writing.

One will note that Definer’s latest positing has to do with the idea of narrative and authorial intentions, a post I had want to chastise at first due to the somewhat false binary created between psychology and style. On second thought, however, I realized Definer is expressing a similar sentiment to my own. In particular, we all struggle with the craft of writing in hopes of offering something to our readers (however small in number they may be) that is of aid. Moreover, my hope is that what I write will surprise me, in that what emerges may be far more profound than I might normally express.

In many ways, good writing is never easy, and the fitting form often arises from many false starts. The end product, whether completed or abandoned, can be likened to a failed relationship: sure it hurt, but look what I learned, and didn’t you enjoy it too? After all, aren’t we all trying to leave behind beautiful prose? This application of effort, and those moments when we commiserate on our failings, makes the suffering such pleasure. Thus, I have surrounded myself with junkies of the literary sort, people for whom a concept, phrase, or sound represents one of the utmost pleasures in life.

Somehow, this consideration of writing has moved my thinking onto that of my body, but likely not in the manner you are expecting. Rather, in the thick heat that signals the arrival of summer here in the Midwest, I often overlook the various ways the world clings to me—those riots of pollen that stain my hair as I walk past the bushes outside my apartment, the smell of corn blooms on my hands when I walk in the tall fields, or the sharp taste of chlorine that emerges from my skin hours after leaving a swimming pool.

Like our memories, our bodies are marked by their passage through the world, not just by scars, sweat, and sunlight, but the intricate geometries of propagation and destruction. When I next return might I be the grime blurring your car windows, or a slight hummock of earth against a backdrop of pines? Whatever my fate, I ought to remember that I am less the product of intention and more the insistent pulse of movements not wholly my own. We are all driven on by forces that bespeak our making and undoing. Here at the start of summer, I try to recognize the obvious reminders of my own involvement as a mere vessel of processes too little understood or acknowledged. Yet, the need for conclusions tells me that I am far from this achievement, and thus my post ends without an ending

Narrative

Today I go back to old roots/routes. Narrative. How does an author compel a reader to continue on? Sure I have good role models – Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird literally rests inches away from my computer. And I know the words – foreshadowing, climax, plot points …. I wish I could write like Foucault and give up the very need for plot points – readers would just stay tuned in the expectation that on every page they would find a mind-blowing idea. Or like Harper Lee whose characters are so wonderful that reading her book (alas, she only has one) is like spending time with close friends. Or like J.K. Rowling (or Lewis Caroll) whose backstory and context are so fun that the narrative almost doesn't matter. Or George Orwell whose prose is so perfect that the words themselves compel the reader to keep on. Or Dashiell Hammett who leaves so much to the reader's imagination. Yet all of them use the standard plot points, cause and effect, conflict and resolution.

But somehow I feel that plot points and history-writing should not mix because the causal relationship that drives such a narrative is often psychological and getting to the psyche of a protagonist who has been dead almost 200 years is either not easy or impossible depending on who you consult. And the old teleological history has lost its luster – we can no longer say that we got to here because of there. Does unintended consequence propel narrative? Twas’ your idea Foucault, what say you? I think I'll go with the Rowling/Caroll model. History as dream-world.

Sunday Best

Yesterday I biked into the parking lots of many of Near-Flatville’s religious institutions and checked out bumper stickers and magnetic “ribbons.” I was once instructed that you can tell a lot about an individual from his or her refrigerator. So I’ll try the same trick with America and her parking lots.

At the old-line religious institutions, there were few explicitly political bumper stickers or ribbons, but I did find a few relating to community that illustrate a political bent. These were “Save the Chief” bumper stickers suggesting that Catholics and Presbyterians in Central Illinois hold God and Chief Illiniwek equally sacred. The automobiles were mostly expensive and those parishioners whom I saw older than the average Near-Flatviller. Parking lots were fairly empty.

At new-line religious institutions, parking lots were fuller, cars were older and smaller or they were big pickups, and parishioners younger – many with kids. Perhaps attendance was better because they could sleep in? Or perhaps it was because of the “rock” band inside? There were more stickers – of the magnetic “support the troops” kind but not overwhelmingly so.

At the African American churches, few cars were in evidence and none of these had political bumper stickers . . . or any bumper stickers at all. I did not see many parishioners and so cannot comment on age.

At the commercial and recreational religious institutions: Walmart and the local golf course featured far more cars in their parking lots than the other religious institutions (though if the two groups were added up, it would have been fairly even). Cars and pickups in these parking lots tended to feature a lot of political bumper stickers ranging from the nearly ubiquitous “support the troops” ribbons to the not-uncommon “Bush-Cheney” bumper stickers.

In sum, my expectations were only partly met, the evidence I have is anecdotal at best and liable to be very different in other places, on other Sundays…. Maybe we can’t understand America by checking out her parking lots.

Zarqawi/Synecdoche

Who was Zarqawi? He was a synecdoche invented by the U.S. in order to simplify a very complex situation. Zarqawi was our bad guy, the one who wore (literally) a black hat (ok, kafiya). At the ground level he was a little more bloodthirsty and a little more vicious than your average jahidist. And he liked the spotlight. So the United States gave it to him in the expectation that they would reap a great victory in the “War on Terror” by killing “the most powerful terrorist in Iraq” (quoting Bush).

But guess what? Just as Zarqawi was a synecdoche, this great victory of ours is a metonym. We effected Zarqawi’s fame and killed him making him even more famous. Then we declare victory in a War that cannot be won because it is not a war and use his death to withdraw American troops as the mess we made in Iraq gets worse now that bin Ladin’s more tactical people have an opportunity to fill Zarqawi’s void (recall bin Laden has been trying to moderate Zarqawi’s behavior as of late).

Having biked this morning through Near-Flatville to Almost-as-Flatville, I can assure you that American flags are out in full force today. Those scholars who think we have gotten beyond the “great man” as the locus of history will be chagrinned to find that the American people are so badly educated that they are only capable of thinking in terms of “great men.” Thus Bush has defeated Zarqawi. America has won! His death serves as a metonym for Bush’s policy from the perspective of Republican pollsters and as a synecdoche of Bush’s policy for those of us opposed to it from the beginning.

Dancing Barefoot

Why Must Not Death be Redefined?
-Patti Smith, “Dancing Barefoot” (1979)

Patti Smith’s question is based on an assumption, though not her own. Death can be redefined. Indeed, we redefine death all the time. In the sixteenth century, Jews, infidels and lepers were considered the already dead. That is no longer so. Today in the United States when Iraqis die, they are numbers, when U.S. Servicemen and women die, they get posthumous fame as the last five minutes of a CBS news broadcast or the cover story of a local newspaper. Was it Heart who wrote that an American death was front page news, 10 European deaths made front page, and 100 dead from elsewhere got the headline? That can change.

What is most interesting about Smith’s question is the manner in which it is phrased. Her use of anastrophe (the unusual arrangement of words in a sentence, often for poetic effect) emphasizes redefinition and not death. And while syncopation is natural to good musicians and composers, its metaphorical use here (word for beat) suggests the very possibility of that which she claims cannot happen. Thus Smith hopes to redefine death by fighting against the near-omnipotence of the dictionary and our assumptions. I for one would be glad to see a redefinition.

Why Protest?

Why protest when our mainstream media refuse to tell us that hundreds of thousands of Iraqis have died? Mostly it just seems like a few people are dieing here and there. And for those of you who know – is that because you oppose the war or because you hate George Bush? For all those who claim that this war is as bad as Vietnam are you just trying to score points? The answer is yes if you don’t know how many Vietnamese died. And if our leaders are just trying to score rhetorical points by using an argument from analogy, why should we care?

Why protest when we’ve been taught for the past five years that all Arabs are Muslims, all Muslims are Arabs and that all of them (whichever) are evil people who don’t worship our God, who hate democracy, and who seek to destroy America? If hundreds of thousands of them are killing each other, isn’t that a good thing?

Why protest when we don’t have to sacrifice anything? High taxes? Forget about it. Remember when the President asked Americans to buy more stuff? Now that’s my kind of sacrifice. As for those American men and women who are dying “for their country.” Well, like are they like real Americans, you know? Like, you know, they’re mostly from the inner city or poor, small towns. There not like me or anything. So why care?

Why protest when the government has so chilled free speech that we all live in fear of our phone records being kept, our calls listened to, our photographs taken at protests. Hey, I’ll be honest, after hearing about one friend held at gun point by the police because she is too good a being a public defender, and two friends trashed in published articles by corporate goons because of their animal rights activism, why protest? And lets be real here, when the FBI lists animal rights activists as the number 1 terror threat in the nation, the average person better stay in line. Because you know those peace-loving, pain & death-hating animal rights activists are a real threat . . . to the military industrial complex.

Why protest when there are no leaders? Every politician I know wants to kiss my ass as if it’s all about me. And if it’s all about me, and something doesn’t matter to me, then all that stuff I don’t care about is like a tree falling in the woods.

And finally, why protest when everyone is so cynical?

Sam Graham-Felsen and Youth

Let me begin by noting that I have several responses to Sam Graham-Felsen’s comments, and although I have tried to give them a sense of order, they are scattered. That said, I begin.

I really enjoyed Auditus’ response to what we read. Along similar lines, I think that Graham-Felsen asks his readers to play the game of social action on his terms. Namely, we are to assume that “real” social action is protest. Have we not all heard that it was eroding corporate support related to a flagging economy that ended Vietnam, not protests? Thus, should we not be dubious as to the impact of mass protests on at least these two levels? I know this is a standard academic response—analyze and criticize—but I am just not satisfied with the false dilemma being presented: protest or acquiesce. There are other ways to change the political order, and we may be witnessing the birth of some new ones—thank you Auditus.

On the other side there is the paucity of choices given to youth, both on the political and cultural level. First, in a two party system where the difference between candidates is less than one would like, apathy seems like a reasonable response. Many young people may wonder just how they could change the system when the alternatives all seem so similar to what they are trying to escape.

Second, unlike the sixties where one could “drop out” with little repercussion, we are now being monitored and tracked from high school to cemetery. Our grades follow us, our credit card debt finds us, and our police history is a threat to any future endeavor. How can we ever form a counterculture when we are so worried about our place in the greater culture? Until we reevaluate the situation where the individual is a commodity with saleable attributes and a history of past success and failures, engaging the system may require a courage few possess.

Third, the university environment is nothing like it was in the Sixties; when was the last time one of us heard of a faculty member making her/his classroom into the utopian environment regime change is assumed to bring? Really, we aren’t even that liberal ourselves: we all give grades, hold office hours, and maintain a particular distance from our students. Thus, if the incubators for social change are offline, why should we be surprised if social action is slow in coming?

Fourth, I ask why every flawed military conflict must be likened to Vietnam? Should we not ask if Korea makes a better comparison, or even our unethical involvement in Central America? Not all events in American history, even those truly unjust, sparked protest.

In sum, I think there is danger in applying old forms to current contexts. Moreover, our current political conditions are not providing engaging alternatives. Maybe what is needed most is a new cultural vision before youth can engage in dissent. If we ask our youth to repeat the actions of their grandparents, while knowing what their grandparents became in the years post protest, what are we really telling them? I feel we need to ask our youth to envision their ideal worlds, and then prompt them to undertake fitting action to realize these worlds. Saddling them with the expectations and behaviors of previous generations seems to be yet another injustice heaped upon the strained shoulders of those who are too often commanded and too infrequently considered.

Looking for Abbie

Interesting read in the Nation, I think the restrictions of an Op-Ed piece led to the over-simplification of his opinion.

But, my initial reaction was “yeah, sounds about right.” I think there is an overall feeling that this “generation does not believe in its ability to alter, or even slightly disrupt, the status quo.” I know I feel that way when I look around. Our system is fairly entrenched, the roots getting deeper each moment. And as Darkur said, what revolution are we expecting? There is no revolution coming?

But, there are some operational positions I have trouble with in this essay.

Much as the “conservative revolution” began in response to the fear the Right experienced by the Sixties (sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll were clearly destroying God's green America), so too is this writer conditioned by that moment. The iconic images, the school strikes / sit-ins, the marches, the riots, the music, the drugs, the sex -- why is that the only definition of a social movement?

There are kids in neighborhoods across the country with mohawks, zines, music, fashion truly living a life that challenges the status quo - they are not weekend punk rockers. There are amazing rappers/poets, street artists doing the same. There are culture jammers and flash mobs, young families home-schooling. There are web wizards, bloggers, inventors. There are people everywhere, it is the variety (spatial and material) that leads to a disconnect that often prevents the idealized outrage that this writer wants to see in the streets. There is a specialization in protest right now against specific aspects of our standard operating procedures that likely prevents the production of a broader unity.

What would the writer say to the traditional protests and marches brewing over the immigration debate?

People are upset about the war. I don't know why we are not in the streets. The mediated version of this war has not made it real, but rather distant and artifical. How many people have been materially, spiritually affected by the war? Not many.

Out of sight, out of mind. The mainstream press does not report on what was mentioned above, so this leads to the writers’ conclusion: there's "so little noise" about the war from the youth generation.

But his call for an alternative is not looking beyond the pages of the New York Times. People everywhere are living alternatives: big and small.

Ape Leader

Term: Ape Leader
Method: Contestation

The term “Ape Leader” as defined in The Vulgar Tongue (1785) meant, “An old maid: their punishment after death, for neglecting to increase and multiply, will be, it is said, leading apes in hell.”

Happily definitions did not end in 1785. In 1789, “Matron” published a rebuttal in The American Museum:

Lead Apes in Hell! There’s no such thing,
Those races are made to fool us;
Though there we had better hold a string,
Then here let monkeys rule us.

Redefinition in combination with humor, I think you'll agree, is most effective.

Where are the Anti-War Protests?

It is fair to ask how so unpopular a government can wage so unpopular a war with hardly a protest or demonstration. Recently, The Nation published an editorial titled “Why There's No Real Student Antiwar Movement.” As academics and rhetorical critics Auditus, Thesaurus, Neologian and Definer will respond to the essay (in approximately that order). We welcome comments and disagreements and in fact expect to see some in our responses to each other.

The article can be found at The Nation.