June 11, 2018
June 11, 2018
May 24, 2018
November 15, 2017
I've been interested for a while in a political Center which would be far more radical and removed from the 'centrism' claimed by moderate politicians of the establishment. The position I envisioned would be radical, not in its fusing of radical elements from both the Left and the Right, but in its reading and interpretation of history through the lense of an attitude of 'apoliteia,' along with emphasizing a theory of sovereignty designed for the projection of a configuration of society in which people could be 'freed from the political;' a phrase Marxists might suppose could only happen through a form of bureaucratic socialism as Zizek contends, Traditionalist conservatives might suppose could only happen through tribal culture and the family unit, and anarchists will resolve themselves to experience in some Fleeting Autonomous Zone.
Now, granted, each of these apolitical-political schemes might work for specific covenant communities, but the question remains, how do we get to this panarchial Garden of Eden in which radically different neighbors can share the same countryside without butchering and bombing one another? You've already gotten the question wrong if you suppose that your own favored form of sovereignty would be the best for every group.
We often ask ourselves how we could have let genocides happen in history. But then we ask how we could have been subject to so much ignorance, hubris, prejudice and wild fancy. Genocide reveals to us our insistence on likening ourselves to all people's throughout time, and the accompanied disgust which comes with this insistence.
When one examines the faces of old photographs, those who shook and shaped history, one is helpless to interpret in them anything aside from pure weight. Behind the heaviness of brow, the sturdiness of mustache, an expression which pullulates with the force of its own sacrifice-vitality hypostasized into a function for the sake of world narrative.
In his interview with The Paris Review, Roberto Calasso said the following:
I feel thought in general, and in particular what is unfortunately called “philosophy,” should lead a sort of clandestine life for a while, just to renew itself. By clandestine I mean concealed in stories, in anecdotes, in numerous forms that are not the form of the treatise. Then thought can biologically renew itself, as it were.
It would appear that Roberto Calasso’s own works set out to do just that. The 49 steps alluded to in the title of Calasso’s book refer to a sequence of meaning in the Talmud. Here, however, the sequence, or something like it, is used not on the Talmud but on the