The literature on hybrid masculinity suggests that some men manage subordinate or contradictory forms of masculinity while still maintaining and benefiting from gender inequality. Drawing from 35 in-depth qualitative interviews with religious participants in pornography addiction recovery programs, we expand this literature by illustrating how hybrid masculinity operates through shared cultural knowledge about sex, gender, and sexuality. We find that participants use distinct cultural schemas related to religion and science to explain how men are created by God to be biologically (...) “hard-wired” for pornography addiction. We use the phrase redemptive masculinity to describe a type of hybrid masculinity that upholds the cultural association between hegemonic masculinity and pornography consumption, but allows religious men to describe their avoidance of pornography as a masculine feat. Redemptive masculinity depends upon particular beliefs about gender that give advantage to the religious men who work to overcome pornography addiction. We show how their stories reinforce essentialist differences between male and female bodies that protect the interests and sexual expressions of religious men. In turn, we show how hybrid masculinities may involve gender-flexible practices for men but also how these may ultimately reinforce strict and inflexible beliefs about so-called “opposite” sexes. (shrink)

Based on a qualitative research developed with former fighters from the paramilitarism and the extinct FARC guerrilla in Colombia, this article develops, from a feminist perspective, the analytical and political proposition of understanding armed groups as technologies of gender, understanding the production of militarized masculinities. The article conceptualizes the notion of militarized masculinities from a double component: militarization and militarism, while comparing paramilitary and guerrilla masculinities, emphasizing in how insurgent masculinity emerged inside the FARC as a type of militarized (...) masculinity characterized, among other things, by a communal subjectivity. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:MORE THAN METAPHORS: MASCULINEGENDERED NAMES AND THE KNOWABILITY OF GOD LYNNE C. BOUGHTON Chicago, Illinois W:HAT WAS ONCE a phenomenon confined to advocacy groups has appeared in ordinary Catholic parishes. Priests celebrating liturgies offer blessings "In the name of the Creator, the Redeemer, and the Holy Love." Such invocations of Persons of the Trinity by names indicative of divine action, as well as the " naming " of God (...) with either gender-combined (Mother-Father) or gender-neutral (Friend) designations of personal relationships, suggest that the way in which God is addressed need not be different from the way in which one describes divine actions. Many argue that since one may refer to God's specific act as " Creator," characterize God's eternal and temporal activity as " Love," or note that in certain ways people experience God's care as that of a "Friend" or "Mother," these terms are suitable for addressing a divine Person. In early 1992 the Catholic Church's International Commission on English in the Liturgy endorsed non-gendered invocations by proposing that English language liturgical texts delete all masculine pronouns referring to God and replace "Father" in several prayers with gender-neutral names. Willingness to depart from the Father/Son/Holy Spirit terminology found in scripture and the Church's creedal statements is often grounded in the belief that God does not merely excel beyond human comprehension the fatherhood and sonship traditionally attributed to divine Persons, but rather that God, as transcendent being, is essentially unlike any quality that can be named. Those who define transcendence in this " epistemologi283 284 LYNNE C. BOUGHTON cal" way maintain that God is free of definition or distinction and that Persons of the Trinity negate and contradict, in their acts of existence, any permanent identity that the human mind may have " attributed " in scripture or Church doctrine to divine Personhood. Theologians such as Karl Rahner and David Tracy see no departure from the Church's authoritative theological teachings in their definition of transcendence as God's existential freedom from the limitations of eternally existing attributes of Persons. According to Rahner the names most indicative of who God is as God are " ineffable one," " nameless one," " silent one." For Tracy, the central " metaphor " and " doctrine" of Christianity is a " triune understanding" of the words " God is Love." 1 For theologians who define transcendence as God's being unconfined by categories, names by which divine Persons are addressed in Scripture are merely ways in which inspired communities or individuals likened God's dealings with them to lifeaffirming actions or admired personal qualities. If traditional names for God were " revealed" in this way, modern worshippers could reasonably address God in terms of likenesses to other, more 1 Karl Rahner, Foundations of Christian Faith: An Introduction to the Idea of Christianity, tr. William Dych (NY: Crossroad, 1982), pp. 46-71; David Tracy, "The Hermeneutics of Naming God," The Irish Theological Quarterly, 57 (1991) : 253-264. For an analysis and defense of the concept of transcendence as absence of metaphysical reality see Mark I. Wallace, "Can God Be Named Without Being Known?: The Problem of Revelation in Thiemann, Ogden, and Ricoeur," Journal of the American Academy of Religion 59/2 (1991): 281-308. Although the Fourth Lateran Council (1215) listed "ineffable " among the attributes of God, God was not named in this way and, moreover, the context of other listed attributes (omnipotence, eternity) suggests that " ineffable " does not mean God is without anything that can be described but that descriptions of God are not comprehensible to humans [H. J. D. Denzinger, Enchiridion Symbolorum, 30th ed., trans. Roy Deferrari (London: Herder & Herder, 1955), # 428]. This point is illustrated by the First Vatican Council (1869-1870) which refers to God as "ineffably most high above all things " and then proceeds to list a series of attributes (Denzinger, # 1782). In the Council of Toledo, "ineffable" was used as a modifier ("ineffable Trinity," "ineffable substance," "ineffably begot") for terms that were defined in the Council's creed (Denzinger # 275-276). Further discussion of " ineffable" is in note 6, below. MORE THAN METAPHORS 285 inclusive, human qualities. Invoking, rather than merely describing or praising, God with names derived from creative/redemptive... (shrink)

Based on a qualitative research developed with former fighters from the paramilitarism and the extinct FARC guerrilla in Colombia, this article develops, from a feminist perspective, the analytical and political proposition of understanding armed groups as technologies of gender, understanding the production of militarized masculinities. The article conceptualizes the notion of militarized masculinities from a double component: militarization and militarism, while comparing paramilitary and guerrilla masculinities, emphasizing in how insurgent masculinity emerged inside the FARC as a type of militarized (...) masculinity characterized, among other things, by a communal subjectivity. (shrink)

One particularly interesting example can be found in the character M'Baku, a mountain warrior whose abstention from meat runs afoul of stereotypes about what a vegetarian looks like and, in so doing, challenges racist iconographies of Black masculinity. As Carol Adams argued in her landmark work, The Sexual Politics of Meat, in the United States, meat‐eating is a highly visible reminder and reinforcer of patriarchal dominance. Erik Killmonger comes to Wakanda as a conqueror, taking up his late father's mission to (...) end the country's isolationist foreign policy and stage armed insurgencies the world over. The irony of Killmonger's plan, wielding the master's tools to dismantle the master's house, is palpable. Killmonger's violence is similarly deliberate and, in its own way, is meant to honor the rage, yearnings, and aspirations of all those subjugated to, and displaced and discarded by, colonialism. (shrink)

L'article qui précède fait suite à deux autres que nous avons publiés ici même l'an dernier¹. Nous résumons d'abord brièvemnet ceux-ci parce qu'ils fournissent à celui-là la perspective dans laquelle il convient de le lire. La valeur que peut avoir le roman pour le psychologue ne consiste pas uniquement dans la description de types psychologiques qu'il lui fournit, mais aussi et surtout en ce qu'il contribue à former et à enrichir son expérience personnelle. Expérience, non pas dans le sens technique (...) et étroit de ce mot, mais dans sa signification originellement humaine: une aptitude à pénétrer autrui, à le comprendre du dedans, cœur. La rencontre d'autrui donne lieu à une triple connaissance: connaissance discursive, connaissance par Einfühlung d'une existence humaine concrète, rencontre dans l'autre du Dasein humain en général. C'est l'union de ces trois qui constitue la connaissance par le cœur, connaissance qui ne peut s'apprendre d'une manière théorique et ne s'acquiert que par l'exercice. Elle est à la base de toute compréhension psychologique réelle. Le roman de valeur, bien qu'il soit un produit de l'« imagination », transcende l'existence concrète dans la direction de l'être et par une sorte de recréation nous fait entrevoir les fondements et les destinées de l'homme qui sont le fond et le cadre de son existence concrète. Comment le roman s'y prend-il ? Par delà l'innerweltliche être-avec de Heidegger, qui nous fait saisir l'autre intentionnellement comme un objet dans le monde du souci, Binswanger a montré la transcendence possible vers un « über die Welt hinaus sein » selon le mode de la « Wirheit ». Seule cette relation avec l'autre, haussée au plan de l'intemporel, peut être, à travers la connaissance discursive, la base d'approche pour une connaissance psychologique fondamentale. Or cette relation le roman de valeur la rend possible, parce que tout en étant à la fois une création technique et un commerce sur le mode du jeu, il transcende cependant ces deux formes fondamentales de l'existence quotidienne, par le fait que l'« imagination » de l'auteur projette l'existence comme la concrétisation de l'être-homme comme-tel, ou, si l'on veut, du Dasein. Il est une « poétisation » qui rend possible la rencontre de l'autre sur la base commune du Dasein comme « über-die-Welt-hinaus-sein ». Malgré la non-existence du monde sur-réaliste que le roman évoque, ce monde n'est cependant pas irréel. Il représente l'élaboration concrète de la connaissance vécue que prend l'auteur des possibilités de la réalité humaine par la réalisation de ces possibilités mêmes. C'est précisément parce que les situations que le roman nous décrit ne sont pas celles que la vie nous donne d'éprouver, ne sont pas des photographies, qu'elles provoquent un recul et nous donnent accès à une connaissance plus pure de l'essentiel. Et l'auteur est grand, lorsqu'il réussit à évoquer dans son oeuvre un climat qui rendra possible au lecteur de communier avec lui et de pénétrer jusqu'au fond de la réalité humaine. Le roman devient alors une source importante de cette Daseinserkenntnis dont Binswanger nous parle. Sous ce rapport les romans de Dostojewski dépassent tous les autres. Ils sont véritablement une école de formation psychologique. Ses personnages sont autant d'incarnations du problème de la signification de l'existence. Problème que l'on ne trouve nulle part exprimé explicitement, mais que l'on sent toujours présent comme l'arrière-fond sur lequel se déroule le jeu des questions et des réponses. Par sa foi en la fécondité de l'amour désintéressé, Dostojewski nous met en contact avec la source ontologique de l'amour et de la haine, de la bonté et du péché. C'est à cause de cela que la lecture de ses romans peut, en raison de leur élévation même, devenir comme un tourment. Elle provoque chez le lecteur une sorte de crise où il se voit confronté avec cet être fondamental qui est pour chacun le sien propre. En un sens, l'homme dans les romans de Dostojewski est toujours le « vieil homme », l'homme qui est seul avec son angoisse et sa culpabilité, dans un monde où la mort se dresse devant lui, mais avec dans le cœur une nostalgie de rédemption et de paix, pleine d'espérance. Dans les personnages de Dostojewski c'est notre propre Dasein que nous découvrons, dépouillé de ses contingences spatio-temporelles. Et c'est précisément parce que cette découverte est impossible dans le déroulement fugace et toujours inachevé de la vie journalière, que le roman nous oiffre ici une image plus pure de l'existence, de ses possibilités et de ses fondements. Sous la conduite de Dostojewski l'homme se découvre soi-même à travers la crise existentielle comme une liberté authentique qui transcende son « être naturel » et sa « structure psychique », et par ailleurs il y fait l'expérience de son angoisse et de son vertige en face de sa propre ifinitude et de sa mort. Mais en toute crise il y a aussi l'attente d'une rédemption, la liberté de «homme nouveau», qui se réalise par le choix de l'acceptation et par là transcende le monde de l'angoisse et du souci vers l'intimité du « Heimat ». Nul n'a réussi comme Dostojewski à esquisser une image aussi claire de la réalité humaine, et c'est pour cette raison qu'il faut considérer son œuvre comme une contribution fondamentale à la connaissance psychologique et à la formation du psychologue. L'article publié dans ce numéro veut illustrer les considérations qui précèdent par le cas typique d'Hippolyte dans L'idiot. Alors qu'il veut vivre, l'homme doit mourir. Mais qui rentre en soi-même peut se demander si, dans le fond caché de nous-mêmes, le contraire n'est pas tout aussi vrai. C'est l'un des problèmes que Dostojewski n'a cessé de reprendre dans ses romans. Hippolyte, le jeune tuberculeux qui se voit tout près de la mort, en est une très importante élaboration. Ce jeune homme à l'intelligence pénétrante, mais aigri et humilié, nous offre l'image de l'homme désemparé devant l'irréductible conflit de la mort et de la vie. Il devra mourir bientôt, lui qui aurait voulu vivre « grand ». Il ne peut accepter cette mort insensée à laquelle le livre cette maladie qui lentement l'épuisé. C'est contre cette mort « naturelle » inévitable — le mur qui fait face à son lit de malade et les terribles scorpions qui hantent son rève — que s'insurge sa liberté. Il en vient à décider qu'il se donnera la mort lui-même, afin que sa mort soit au moins un acte libre. Mais auparavant il fait à ses amis la lecture de sa confession, « l'explication nécessaire », sous la devise: « Après moi le déluge ». Ce doit être l'expression de ses convictions dernières, la preuve de l'unique liberté que la nature lui concède encore. Mais quand il décharge son arme, il apparaît qu'il avait oublié d'y mettre la balle. Mais Hippolyte n'était pas seul. Le prince Myschkin, homme naïf à l'âme d'enfant, a deviné ses luttes intérieures dès leur première rencontre. Il a essayé de montrer à Hippolyte la voie de l'abandon comfiant où il pourrait se libérer de son orgueil et de son ressentiment. Mais Hippolyte n'a pas voulu s'engager dans cette voie. Il voulait garder la vie, et c'est pour cela qu'il mourut d'une mort en quelque sorte impropre et insensée. Ce choix d'Hippolyte, le choix de la révolte et du désespoir, ne s'offre pas à l'analyse ou à l'étude comme un problème scientifique. Il ne peut être approfondi que dans la rencontre avec une existence qui s'est choisie elle-même telle. C'est le mérite de Dostojewski de nous avoir montré dans la figure d'Hippolyte qu'un homme n'apprend à se connaitre soi-même ou à connaitre autrui qu'en faisant quelque chose, et de nous l'avoir montré avec un tel respect pour le secret de l'ultime destinée de l'homme. (shrink)

: Carrillo Rowe provides an analysis of Monster's Ball as a cultural narrative of white masculinity's redemption from the atrocities of racism through an interracial love story that erases white masculinity's national history and implication in a racist past while it displaces the black female body from that history and identification with the struggle for reparation. The nexus of sex, race, and desire is used to produce a new whiteness consistent with the emerging national multicultural logics of color blindness (...) by undermining the narrative, memory, identity, and racing of bodies grounding the logic of reparation. (shrink)

Building on the work of anthropologists, historians, sociologists, literary critics, and feminist philosophers of science, the essays in Women Out of Place: the Gender of Agency and Race of Nationality investigate the linkages between agency and race for what they reveal about constructions of masculinity and femininity and patterns of domesticity among groups seeking to resist varied forms of political and economic domination through a subnational ideology of racial and cultural redemption. Does agency have a gender? Does nationality have (...) a race? Does the race of nationality predetermine the gender of agency? This volume asks these questions of a variety of nationalist ideologies, some at the same point in history, others as precursors of or predecessors to an initial nationalist formation. Contributors are: Richard G. Fox, Eva Haseby-Darvas, Paulette Pierce, Deborah Rubin, Louisa Schein, Carol A. Smith, Jacqueline True. (shrink)

he enigmatic films of David Lynch have been interpreted from a variety of perspectives. Among these we can find Lynch the postmodernist ironist, Lynch the transgressive neoconservative, and Lynch the visionary explorer of the unconscious. Martha P. Nochimson's recent study, for example, presents an eloquent case for regarding Lynch as a Jungian 'surfer of the waves of the collective unconscious', whose films combine the intuitive embracing of subconscious Life Energy with a celebration of the creative power of Hollywood mythology. [1] (...) For Nochimson, Lynch's transformation of the masculine action hero into intuitive 'boundary crosser' shows the redemptive quality of his cinematic vision, which we experience sensuously rather than comprehend rationally. (shrink)

_The Scarlet Empire_ (1906) by David Maclean Parry, a former president of the National Association of Manufacturers (NAM), offers an anti-utopian romance set in an authoritarian socialist Atlantis. Supplementing the efforts of NAM to limit the power of unions and diminish the appeal of socialism through political and editorial suasion, the novel promised a new and powerful way of proselytizing middle-class readers by competing with prominent literary utopians and socialists, especially Edward Bellamy and Upton Sinclair. The novel's protagonist is converted (...) to individualism and capitalism and comes to see socialism as emasculating. _Empire_ bundles capitalism and masculinity together through a redemptive adventure romance narrative that serves capitalist ideological purposes and has the protagonist combining tremendous wealth, a powerful faith in individualism, and a recovered masculine subjectivity to become a captain of industry and paragon of a hegemonic masculinity at the turn of the twentieth century. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:European Network of Buddhist-Christian StudiesJohn D'Arcy MayThe European Network of Buddhist-Christian Studies met at Samye Ling, Scotland, 16-19 May 2003. The theme of the meeting was "Buddhists, Christians, and the Doctrine of Creation."Samye Ling, founded in 1967 by Dr. Akong Tulku Rinpoche and now under the guidance of his brother, the Venerable Lama Yeshe Losal, is one of the oldest and largest Buddhist monasteries in Europe. Ven. Yeshe, in (...) welcoming conference participants, told how the monastery has both materially and spiritually reinvigorated what had become a depressed area around the town of Lockerbie in southwest Scotland. Despite the inclement weather, it was thus an appropriate venue for the fifth conference of the European Network of Buddhist-Christian Studies on the topic of creation. As Perry Schmidt-Leukel (Glasgow), who organized the conference, pointed out in his opening remarks, creation in view of ultimate redemption is the quintessentially Christian doctrine. Yet Buddhism certainly did not see samsara as the ultimate reality, and even if the origin of the world was ultimately an unanswerable question, Buddhism too was confronted by the problem of evil.Ernst Steinkellner (Vienna) opened the conference proper with an account of Buddhist critiques of Hindu doctrines of creation. The absolute Brahman was not a creator, but in the course of doctrinal evolution (the masculine Brahman becoming the post-Vedic Brahma) the world came to be seen as the work of a kind of demi-urge, leaving open the question of why. Buddhism, restricting itself to the realm of the finite, mocked Brahmin ideas of the cause of the world, but still had to account for the existence and nature of the world. By the time the Madhyamaka had developed theories of momentary creation, these had become part of the common logic of Buddhists and Hindus.This was followed by a presentation on contemporary Buddhist critiques of creation and creator doctrines by José Cabezón (Santa Barbara), who pointed out certain affinities between modern theories of many universes without beginning or end and traditional Buddhist ideas. Buddhism, he maintained, has an aversion to cosmological uniqueness, whether spatial, temporal, causal, or personal, but it does [End Page 237] regard the causal law of karman as ineluctable. Despite the critiques of Buddhist thinkers such as Gunapala Dharmasiri of Sri Lanka, who are under the misapprehension that Buddhism is on a par with science whereas Christianity is merely religion, this lays the basis for a metaphysics. The site of both suffering and liberation is the cocreativity of all beings. Buddhism is concerned not with being, but with consciousness.Eva Neumaier (Calgary) suggested that in fact Buddhism does have conceptions of creation, but in narrative form, represented in the cosmological structure of the world as the product of the Buddha's meditation rather than as a cosmogony. Creation is not ex nihilo, because nature predates any act of creation, yet the "emptiness" of shūnyatā is also the "swollenness" of fulfilled potential. The Buddha has been represented as the all-creating sovereign, and pure mind has been interpreted as the gender-neutral mother-father of all Buddhas, the "primordial basis." The "original enlightenment" objected to by Critical Buddhism enabled Buddhists to adapt pre-Buddhist ideas such as the Tao, even to the extent of tolerating animistic polytheism.If this presentation surprised some participants, it provided the perfect counterpart to the paper on Christian ideas of creation by John Keenan (Middlebury College). The Jewish and Christian conceptions of creation arise out of events in history, the exodus from Egypt being the originating metaphor. For Christians, liberation from the bondage of sin was the legacy of Israel's tribal warrior God. The Genesis accounts of creation are essentially liturgical, not cosmogonic. Creation is simply assumed as the evidence of divine transcendence; God is not a benevolent parent. The pagan critics who mocked the Jewish and Christian creation stories were just as misguided as the Buddhists who ridiculed the Vedic myths. God was eventually conceived as ipsum esse, the "to be" of things, a nonsubstantialist account that does not purport to answer the question "why." According to the logic of Buddhism, the complete enlightenment of all would mean the... (shrink)

. As Gregory Peterson's book Minding God illustrates, an ongoing encounter between theology and the cognitive sciences can provide rich insights to both disciplines. Similarly, reflection on recent advances in pain research can prove to be fertile ground in which further theological insights might take root. Pain researchers remind us that pain is both a sensory and an emotional experience. The emotional component of pain is critically important for the clinical management of people in pain, as it serves a communicative (...) function-human connection occurs more readily through the expression of and response to emotion than through the sterile exchange of "objective" descriptions of sensory phenomena. But emotion, pain and communication also figure prominently in Christian theology. For example, doctrines of incarnation and eschatology raise questions about suffering, healing, and hope as well as about the nature of the divine-human relationship. In addition, there seems to be scientific evidence for (admittedly subtle) gender differences in the perception of and response to pain. Several feminist theologians have noted that a habitual theological emphasis on God's rationality tends to reinforce masculine images of God and demeans the validity of emotion in the divine-human relationship. Potential theological implications of the emotional and communicative aspects of pain and how this might affect women's religious experience-with a particular focus on Teresa of Avila-are explored. (shrink)

Carrillo Rowe provides an analysis of Monster's Ball as a cultural narrative of white masculinity's redemption from the atrocities of racism through an interracial love story that erases white masculinity's national history and implication in a racist past while it displaces the black female body from that history and identification with the struggle for reparation. The nexus of sex, race, and desire is used to produce a new whiteness consistent with the emerging national multicultural logics of color blindness by (...) undermining the narrative, memory, identity, and racing of bodies grounding the logic of reparation. (shrink)

continent. 2.3 (2012): 218–223 Vijay Prashad. Arab Spring, Libyan Winter . Oakland: AK Press. 2012. 271pp, pbk. $14.95 ISBN-13: 978-1849351126. Nearly a decade ago, I sat in a class entitled, quite simply, “Corporations,” taught by Vijay Prashad at Trinity College. Over the course of the semester, I was amazed at the extent of Prashad’s knowledge, and the complexity and erudition of his style. He has since authored a number of classic books that have gained recognition throughout the world. The Darker (...) Nations , a peoples’ history of the Third World, sent defibrillating shockwaves through an academic world that had almost forgotten the epic scope and historic dignity of the non-aligned movement and post-colonial struggles. In his recent, award-winning work, Arab Spring, Libyan Winter , Prashad delves into his capacious knowledge of the Third World to excavate the discourses and narratives surrounding the upheavals of 2011. “Revolutions have no specific timetable,” states Prashad in the opening line of this exciting and provocative look at contemporary events. Instantly, an atmosphere of suspense emerges. The reader is alerted to the problem of history. Does the making of history then involve a suspension of historical time, or is it a continuous narrative structure into which events must eventually be integrated? Arab Spring, Libyan Winter shows that the answer to the question, “How is history made?” lies just as easily in the asking. The first half of the book works through the events that transpired to bring about the explosive popular uprisings of Arab Spring: Tunisia and Egypt, Yemen and Bahrain. But the events are not put together in a cohesive, chronological fashion. Using an uncommonly gripping style more akin to the folk-story motif of the djeli than to traditionally Orientalist academia, Prashad suspends a given situation, points out its components, and traces back the characters and genealogies that define each link before resuming a narrative. Every moment is an end to itself, and an origin of something different. Thus, the making of history becomes the suspension of its own progress, it’s catastrophic 'stability,' in a process of differentiation through inclusion. Empirically, one might suggest that history is a condition of time, and by extension, of the subject, but history is also an eminent producer of the Subject and her concept of time through memory and narrative. Hence, history is often overdetermined by a dominant narrative of the sovereign. The apparently chaotic composition of Prashad’s historicity is, then, an interstitial morphology of resistance. It illustrates that the time to act for the revolutionary lies in the gaps within the dominant historical realities. It points out the sorties of signifiers constituting nothing in the obliterated ruins of history. Through such illuminations, Arab Spring, Libyan Winter breaks through “the surface of history” to elaborate revolution’s snapping synapses, exploding interruptions and breaches, connecting flows. Messianic Politics It is tempting to think, 'History is either singular, or it is diffuse. It is either one coherent factual narrative, or it is comprised of the aletheia of the multitude.' Yet the reader finds Prashad examining the structure of history on multiple levels. For Prashad, world history is shaped by geographically defined political movements, such as communism or national liberation, with historical agents like the working class for the former and the nationalist militant for the latter. Religion, however, is another matter: “Religion has an unshakable eschatology which a post-utopian secular politics lacks.” Within the telos of religion, there appears on the horizon the image of Benjamin’s thoughts on messianic time—time as “a small fissure in the continuous catastrophe,” a break with history, may contain an ultimate redemption of the human beyond the political power struggle. Succoring the split between geo-political and utopian-religious (messianic) time in the context of Arab Spring, Prashad indicates that the base of “the deep desire and commitment to some form of democracy” is forged by the affinity between eschatological Islamist politics with the People. To think about the Subject of messianic time in the context of the lack of a “coherent timetable” for emancipatory politics, it is perhaps best to return to the modern tradition of Martin Luther King, Jr., whose prefigurative blending of liberation theology and emancipatory politics became most important during his works of 1963, the climactic year of “The Letter from a Birmingham Jail,” the March on Washington, and the bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church. In “The Letter,” King states the point bluntly: Frankly, I have yet to engage in a direct-action campaign that was “well timed” in view of those who have not suffered unduly from the disease of segregation. For years now I have heard the word “wait!” It rings in the ear of every Negro with piercing familiarity. This “Wait” has almost always meant ‘Never.” We must come to see, with one of our distinguished jurists, that “justice too long delayed is justice denied.” The timing of rebellious action must not be a part of history. It must change history. The kairos appears spontaneous and untimely in its convulsive, shocking presence, yet it is, deeper still, a path, a longue durée , forged through diligent and rigorous praxis. King put a finer point on the path of historic liberation in his declaration in his 1963 speech at Western Michigan University: “[T]ime is neutral.... Somewhere along the way we must see that time will never solve the problem alone but that we must help time. Somewhere we must see that human progress never rolls in on the wheels on inevitability. It comes through the tireless efforts and the persistent work of dedicated individuals who are willing to be co-workers with God. Without this hard work, time itself becomes an ally of the insurgent and primitive forces of irrational emotionalism and social stagnation. We must always help time and realize that the time is always right to do right.” Time, then, exists in “the neutral,” while action must turn to the kairos , not only of taking time, but taking the right time. By turning our relation to time into kairos , we move time from its context within history to a duration between histories—the longue dure?e of Messianic time. The implementation of neutrality in this context suggests a broad space of time to extend through the valley of positive and negative. In Roland Barthes’s lectures from 1978, the neutral takes place in this minimal distance of non-conflict that exists outside of two extremes. It is, in the words of Maurice Blanchot, “the non-general, the non-generic, as well as the non-specific.” For Blanchot, the neutrality of time permeates life as death, impassive and beyond control; such is the neutrality of messianic time, which permeates the charge of history, changing the "I" into the "one." The neutrality of time therefore implicates history in a case against extremism, showing that the work of the radical is not to tend to any particular side, but to have the time to navigate through the terrible terrain of history by altering its course, its patterns and rhythms of movement, connection, sociality. Hence, one does not simply “make history,” one alters the course of history in accordance to “the right time.” The historical path toward emerging power is transmitted as a gesture to the outside of history, against history; a gesture as simple as reaching out. Thus a counterhistory, to use Foucault’s term, is brought forward as the guide of time past a point of no return, a Rubicon, the point where the normal path of history falls to the past. The subject, who must be the only true agent of history, facilitates time through helpfulness, and both the Subject and her history become decentered in relation to one another. Yet history negates the neutrality of time. As Barthes discloses, although the neutral is the “thought and practice of the nonconflictual, it is nevertheless bound to assertion, to conflict, in order to make itself heard.” Engaged with history, time is charged with a destiny, and becomes an opposition. As Prashad insists, “For Arab lands, the events of early 2011 were not the inauguration of a new history, but the continuation of an unfinished struggle that is a hundred years old.” The emergence of the Subject during Arab Spring did not conceive of a new history, but changed the path of history toward a different destiny. “Historical grievances combined with inflationary pressures now met with the subjective sense that victory might be at hand—this was not simply a protest to scream into the wind, but a protest to actually remove autocrats from their positions of authority. The facts of resistance had given way to the expectation of revolutionary change.” The negativity of this charge toward “revolutionary destiny” rendered control, as a positive force, seriously lacking. The lack of control lies in the problem that the Subject is not totally detemporalized or timeless, but untimely in her presence. The Subject is untimely, because her work is visionary, and it is only through such visionary work that the Rubicon can be crossed. Still, the crossing of this border is haunted by anxiety over an impending disaster that lays in wait. It is only through the form of what Benjamin calls divine violence, captivated not with the justice of the means, but the ends—the transformation of history—that a revelation of history’s traumatic foundations can be liberated, and patterns and rhythms of time developed throughout obscured traditions awakened. In this situation, the Subject appears to be outside of right, but setting the state to rights. Because her position is correct, in-so-far as the rebelling subject rebels due to a lack of recognition, her representation appears outside of the norm, which is mistaken as right. Therefore, such visionary work must be carried out through obscured traditions, underground, away from the surveillance of empire. Explaining his method from the start along the lines of Marx’s metaphor of the mole, Prashad insists, “It is the burrowing that is essential, not simply the emergence onto the surface of history.” Arab Spring, Libyan Winter is a book on uncharted networks of time, spread out over the 252 pages like an elaborate spider’s web of passages intertwining with and overwhelming the machinery of the state. Although untimely, Arab Spring was not a flash in the pan, or a Facebook or Twitter revolution. Prashad notes that the government’s suspension of these tools led to further radicalism by furthering communications through face-to-face encounters. In existential terms, Arab Spring might be thought of as a revolution of Being over techne , an uprising of the unchartable, infinite potential of the Other. The name of this Other is found in Chance. The faith of the revolution lies in the proper decentering of the subject, its giving to the Other of time, for only with respect to time does history actually appear on the horizon of the subject, rather than as an imposition. This time of historical agency appears as a moment when anything can happen—a revolutionary truth event where everything comes into question while being realized in its Otherness as a community of the people begins anew in the streets amidst discourse, friendship, reconfigurations of hegemony, and a becoming of a constituent power. Throwing a wrench into the gears of the “cobwebbed tradition” of Orientalism, the decentering of history in Arab Spring, Libyan Winter is a defining quality of its impassioned revolutionary cry. But perhaps the most paradigmatic points of the book emerge from the unexpected voices. To make the connection between the particular manifestations of revolutionary demands to the general historic terms of revolution, Prashad quotes an anonymous young Egyptian in Tahrir Square, who reminds us, “[T]he French Revolution took a very long time so the people could eventually get their rights.” Far from timelessness, the historicization of Arab Spring must exist precisely within the most uncanny appearance of time, as something that does not appear to come from the natural state of time as we know it, but in arriving has completely transformed the way that we understand time. Strange Monsters Revolution is never as simple as a revolt from below against a rusting structure of elites trying to remain in power. As with the French Revolution, Arab Spring consisted of complex familial ties, outside interests, and religious factions fighting alongside, often in awkward juxtaposition to, liberals, working class parties, farmers, and students. It is perhaps because of this historically difficult and incongruous composition that the Arabic word for revolution is thawra , referring to the image of the bull, or thawr , which has religious significance as a pagan deity for the Ancient Semitic tribes and Cartheginians. If Daniel Guérin was correct in saying, “Anarchism and Marxism drink from the same spring,” then it is quite a different oasis that drove the thirsty beast of revolution through what Prashad calls, “the Libyan labyrinth.” Recalling Bataille’s Acéphale, the intestinal labyrinth gains significance as the mode of metabolism and rumination in which, “(the Acephale) has lost himself, loses me with him, and in which I discover myself as him, in other words, as a monster.” Unraveling the discourse of the revolution, the flows of power and hegemony—from Qaddafi’s nationalist coup in 1969 to the wars with Chad from 1978 to 1987, the neoliberal reforms of the 1990s to, finally, the War on Terror—we find that the metabolic process of Libyan Winter ends in the production of oil. In a process of what Prashad calls “involution,” Qaddafi’s bellicose policies, along with his attempts to nationalize Islam together with oil, mutated the source of his power, turning his house against itself. Already a divided nation, with its two major cities on opposite geographic sides of the country, Libya became split between two opposed political powers—liberal reformists and staunch nationalists—as Qaddafi’s political disengagement manifested through what can only be described in psychoanalytic terms as a recursive passage a l’act (mysteriously calling Wikipedia “Kleenex,” declaring that opponents drank hallucinogens with their instant coffee, and so on). Prashad declares, “The mercurial style that Qaddafi adopted was not about his personality alone, but also a leader’s natural response to a system that relied upon power brokers whose own loyalty… did not have any ideological commitment to the system.” As in the case of other nations during Arab Spring, the true expression of revolt was an outward exposition of what had inwardly been happening in microcosmic societies throughout the realm—from indigenous tribes to political parties, for a century, the people, partly motivated by (and in resistance to) economic impositions of development, had been changing the traditional social compositions and participating in what Ruth Wilson Gilmore calls, “the relative autonomy of the movement from the leaders.” It was this empowerment of political reconfigurations taking place under the context of new democratic assemblages that shocked the elites and evoked such a powerful response. Unlike Qaddafi’s awkward policy choices and rants, real acts of power from the West were clear and decisive. Prashad sets the stages of war and diplomacy, far removed from the deserts, mountains, and cities that forged the backdrop of popular politics. Taking place under the now-classic architecture of the “four pillars” of US interests—oil, the War on Terror, Israel, and the circumvention of Iranian hegemony—we find elites rubbing elbows in “Heliopolist cocktail parties and hushed conferences in Kasr al-Ittihadiya” as well as the Concorde-Lafayette hotel in Paris, which provides the setting for a meeting of anti-Qaddafi figures consolidating their power. These scenes are buttressed with the careful portraiture of key historical actors. As Prashad brings the stage of history to life, we find the diplomats and liberals like Frank Wisner, whose career has brought him from Enron in the late 1990s to the Obama Administration, under the aegis of which he was meeting with Mubarak about military support during Arab Spring. We spy the provocateurs, for instance, gauche cavalier , Bernard Henri-Levy, who telephones Sarkozy from Benghazi about the need for more NATO air strikes. We follow the rebel military establishment as it suffers mysterious deaths and even more mysterious assents (like that of apparent CIA cohort, Khalifa Hifter). In each of these intriguing characters, we find different representations of the security state biopolitique: an oil-injected reification that drives Arab Spring from the resentment of rising food prices to the brink of implosion in Libyan Winter. Reminiscent of the scenes of Cold War soirées represented in old Bond films, the aristocratic fight for oil against democracy that was Libyan Winter presents a harsh truth that the new global crisis is simply the continuation of the old history: the global exploitation of capitalism waged against the imagination of the people. As Benjamin laments, “The labyrinth is the right path for the person who always arrives early enough at his destination. This destination is the marketplace.” Yet, “(t)he labyrinth is the habitat of… a humanity (a class) which does not want to know where its destiny is taking it.” Thus, the labyrinth leads, like the desert, only further into itself. As Blanchot explains, “The desert is even less certain than the world; it is never anything but the approach to the desert.” Only the visionary can take time out of the involution toward oblivion. It is here, in this approach to and escape from history, that we find ourselves within Benjamin’s Golgotha, Blanchot’s desert: A space of indeterminate uncertainty where we become familiar only with our own exile. Blanchot writes, “For the moderated and moderate man, the room, the desert, and the world are strictly determined places. For the man of the desert and the labyrinth, devoted to the error of a journey necessarily a little longer than his life, the same space will be truly infinite, even if he knows that it is not, all the more so since he knows it.” The desert, as allegory, provides an eschatology, a mortality in the destiny of Arab Spring. But any allegory of nature might lead to a labyrinthine eschatology (for example, in Bachelard, the forest presents "a limitless world"); the prescience of the untimely is always an uncanny acceptance of the infinite within the finite—the outside of what is understood. Transgenerational and occupied with the image of the future, the untimely makes otherness its home as it proceeds toward liberation. In the work of helping time navigate this dangerous passage of history, Prashad illustrates that the more violent break with history may have occurred in the peaceable struggles of Tahrir Square, and not in the military clashes of Qaddafi with his former Generals who defected to the CIA and NATO countries. It might be possible to suggest, then, that in the case of Tunisia and Egypt, the historical subject of the people was drawn together in a Dionysian dance of different rhythms in the marvelous realm of the ancients, while we fear that the case of Libya suggests an Apollonian future where time, itself, may lay dying under the machinic hand of history. The properly Nietzschean inversion would follow: time is dead, for history has killed it. Yet, if time is dead, struck down in Golgotha, exposed in the desert, mauled by the thawra , it is only in the present sense that it is rendered impossible outside of the context into which the untimely has thrown us. Thus, if history becomes an art of revolution, life as being-towards-death (death as the provocation of the neutrality of time) becomes what Benjamin calls “the allegory of resurrection” through the glorious ruins of history. Prashad ends his work with a rousing finale: “The time of the impossible has presented itself. In Egypt, where the appetite for the possibilities of the future are greatest, the people continue to assert themselves into Tahrir Square and other places, pushing to reinvigorate a Revolution that must not die… For them the slogan is simple: Down with the Present. Long live the Future. May it be so.&rdquo. (shrink)

Volume 23, Issue 3-4, November - December 2024, Page 264-276.

Éliane Viennot, professeure de littérature française, spécialiste des femmes d’État de la Renaissance, conduit une réflexion sur les femmes et la question du pouvoir en France. Après les deux premières synthèses publiées chez Perrin sur les périodes ve-xvie et xviie-xviiie siècles, cet ouvrage aborde la période révolutionnaire. L’auteure adhère au récit de la « fermeture » bien qu’elle ne passe pas sous silence les moments d’avancée pour la cause des femmes qu’ont parfois permis les événement...

The aim of this paper is to theorize insurgent political action on the basis of Jean-Paul Sartre’s Critique of Dialectical Reason. It reconstructs a Sartrean model of insurgency that prioritizes an insurgent group’s capacity for situated inventions. It argues that, similar to Fanon, Sartre theorized that groups that struggle against oppression and exploitation constantly invent novel conditions that steer society in unforeseeable directions. However, these inventions of insurgent action are never absolutely contingent but always take place in (...) concrete situations which never cease to condition them. This paper analyses two concrete factors which condition the inventions of insurgent action: the seriality from which the group arises and to which it always threatens to return, and the actions of hostile groups. Taken together, this paper claims that Sartre provides a coherent and innovative account of insurgent political action. (shrink)

Few twentieth-century thinkers have proven as influential as Walter Benjamin, the German-Jewish philosopher and cultural and literary critic. Richard Wolin's book remains among the clearest and most insightful introductions to Benjamin's writings, offering a philosophically rich exposition of his complex relationship to Adorno, Brecht, Jewish Messianism, and Western Marxism. Wolin provides nuanced interpretations of Benjamin's widely studied writings on Baudelaire, historiography, and art in the age of mechanical reproduction. In a new Introduction written especially for this edition, Wolin discusses the (...) unfinished _Arcades Project_, as well as recent tendencies in the reception of Benjamin's work and the relevance of his ideas to contemporary debates about modernity and postmodernity. (shrink)