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Over time, I’ll be posting snippets of work-in-progress here that arise from the two manuscripts I’m currently working on. The first of these manuscripts pulls together cultural case studies I’ve done over the years into a conceptually unified argument for an immanent-naturalist “multicultural political ecology,” while the second examines cinema from this perspective. The first is really more empirical than it sounds, examining a range of developments in the arts and media and specific struggles over “nature” as it’s perceived, defined, imagined, and lived. Some of this is a development from my first book, Claiming Sacred Ground, which examined struggles over nature and landscape at two sites of ecospiritual pilgrimage (Glastonbury and Sedona), but the current book applies this approach to a much broader range of cultural phenomena. A third volume, still on the more distant horizon, will flesh out the implications of “immanentism” for ecological, political, and religious philosophy.

As I’ve stated before on this blog, the term “immanent naturalism” is political theorist William Connolly’s term, and I’m using it a little hesitantly and experimentally, thinking it through as I speak/write, to see if it makes sense and if it might catch on (with me, with others) or not. Part of my hesitation comes from the dualistic implications of “naturalism” (natural versus supernatural or unnatural, naturalist versus idealist, etc.). Connolly’s point, like the Spinozist and Deleuzian traditions he draws from, is that nature includes everything that is. For Deleuze, it’s not just everything that is, but everything that has the potential to be, that is virtually there in the structure of the universe, i.e., the structure of becoming (whether it ends up becoming actual or not). Naturalism, therefore, doesn’t have to only deal with empirically knowable existing things; it can be a matter of recognizing that the world is process, and that the invisible and unknowable (for partial and situated observer-participants like ourselves) is also part of that world. But conceivably, this “immanent naturalist” rubric might fade into others over time – which makes sense, because it’s intended to cover such a broad range of thinking (“social nature,” actor-network theory, autopoietic systems theory, ecosemiotics, embodied cognition, process philosophy, etc.).

Some of these posts will deal with how these different strands of what I’m calling “immanent naturalism” deal with the dualisms of nature/culture, spirit/matter, body/mind, and real/imagined. These aren’t the only dualisms that have bogged down our imagination – think male/female, black/white, East/West, etc. – but they are the ones that keep in place the sticky log-jam of thinking between the sciences and the humanities that will have to be unstuck and unjammed if humans are to deal effectively with the social and environmental challenges that face us. (Now there’s a big claim! But it’s one that underlies everything on this blog, so if you’re not convinced, well, then, so be it…)

As you can guess, the blog, then, is also a way to keep myself working, to keep myself honest, and, perhaps over time, generate some discussion with like-minded (or other-minded) theorists and researchers.

Here’s an interesting conversation developing on nature and immanence on an atheist blog.

Incidentally, I liked Obama’s nod to non-Christians and “non-believers” in his inauguration speech. It felt like a refreshing breath of fresh air in the constricted atmosphere of American public religious discourse. With the recent growth of religious/spiritual discourse on the left – in part propelled by the Obama campaign – we might be turning a corner…

geophilosophy

The term “geophilosophy” is intended here in a nod both to Aldo Leopold’s idea of “Thinking like a mountain,” which I take as a provocation (what, or how, does a mountain think?) rather than a declaration of identity (“I’m the one who speaks for the mountain”) and, secondly, to Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari’s ecophilosophizing. The latter can be found especially in A Thousand Plateaus and in the “Geophilosophy” chapter of their final work, What is Philosophy?. Mark Bonta and John Protevi provide a useful elaboration of Deleuze/Guattari’s views, while a growing number of other theorists draw from it in thinking about politics, society, and the human-nonhuman nexus.

More generally, geophilosophy is philosophy in and of the earth. To the extent that all our philosophizing, and all our culturing and politicking and religioning and art-making and languaging, emerges out of the effort to live with others in and on and with the earth, geophilosophy is everything, or at least the reflective and communicative part of everything. While much of that everything has heretofore (at least in recent times) been unconsciously geophilosophical, some of it is attempting to be conscious and reflective about it, and to get better at it.

The intent of this blog is to keep a finger on the pulse of at least some of the currents flowing in the direction of a better geophilosophy of living.

An excellent source of current philosophical thinking on issues related to this blog from an Asian perspective (primarily Buddhist and Daoist) is the International Journal for Field-Being, which is published by the International Institute for Field-Being. “Field-being” is one of the terms Asian thinkers (and translators) have used to encompass a kind of non-essentialist ontology of process, flow, and becoming. Among other thinkers broached in the journal, Western philosophers including Whitehead, Bergson, Heidegger, Derrida, and Dewey have figured prominently.

Several prominent Deleuzians are collected in Bernd Herzogenrath’s “Deleuze/Guattari and ecology.” The opening chapter is on the publisher’s web site.

Patrick Lee Miller’s recent posts on Heraclitean spirituality, published on the Immanent Frame blog, make a valuable contribution to theorizing the ethics and spirituality of immanence. He notes that Heraclitus’ famous quote that’s sunk into popular culture as “You don’t step into the same river twice” actually means something more like “Neither you nor the river you step into are ever the same twice.” Miller’s translation is worth reproducing:

No

twice

stepping into

the same river,

this specious now, this

very one, now gone, alas,

not even once, if truth be told,

nor can it be, truly, for knowing grasps

a thing, no thing, each thing is nothing in itself but

a waxing palimpsest, this selfsame text, myself no less,

waning at best before your very eyes, each blink

effacing, the drying ink tracing these echoes,

these dying refrains of infant palindromes,

returning again imperfectly somewhere

new, some time over or under,

wherever yields never the

same word twice, unless,

maybe, now, this

once,

Yes.

nightmare is over

I moved to the States from Canada in December of 2000, as the Bush-Gore election was being decided. (Almost turned back at the border, thinking, what am I doing?) Now, eight years later, the bad dream is over. Forty years after Martin Luther King’s assassination, that bad dream seems over, too. We can only hope that a 500-year bad dream (slavery and all that) might be ending too, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Humanity with all its warts, its hopes, dreams, and nightmares, plods on.

Now that the people of the US have done their thing, things seem in better hands, and the onslaught on Gaza has subsided, if only temporarily, it’s important to look around and see what’s happening elsewhere. While, in the retrospect of the 18 years since the fall of the Berlin Wall, there’s a lot to be said for Gorbachevan moderation, there’s also a need to support widespread public initiatives for democracy, human rights, environmental protection, and anti-authoritarianism wherever they arise. One of those is Charter 08 in China. Its signatories deserve recognition for their courage, not jail, silence, and forgetting. It’s potentially a very important moment in the history of that country. There’s a lot of blogging about it: for instance, here and here and here.

Related to it, though indirectly, I highly recommend seeing Up the Yangtze, Yung Chang’s haunting film about change in and around one of the largest environmental (and human) modification projects in history. It’s one of the best docs of the last year.

After writing about Jon Hassell’s “coffee coloured” global music of the future, I was intrigued to find out that Timothy Morton, author of “Ecology Without Nature,” has been writing about the ecological implications (or something like it) of Just Intonation versus Equal Temperament.

For those unaware of the fine details of musical tuning, Just Intonation is what’s considered to be a more “natural” tuning system (based on natural harmonics) than the one we’ve gotten used to after a few hundred years of piano-dominated equal temperament. The latter mathematically divides the scale into twelve equal parts (semi-tones) and then strings them into melodies and weaves them into harmonies. But those notes are found nowhere in nature; in fact, JI aficionados argue, it takes seriously detuned ears (like ours) to hear equal-tempered music – which describes most of what passes for music on radios and iPods today – as if it were normal.

In “Ecru and beige versus magenta and blue sound”, Morton argues that Equal Temperament, typified by the piano, “hard-wires” a certain way of listening which itself “reifies inner space” into a kind of permanent “brown” – the “metastasized cancer of the bourgeois ego.” When minimalists like La Monte Young and Terry Riley started messing with this tuning in the early 1960s, they literally “opened up the non-reified spaces within.”

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I just came across this interesting tribute Brian Eno had written to trumpeter and experimental composer Jon Hassell, which gets at a few very deleuzian and immanentist notions: about music as “embodied philosophy”, and Hassell’s idea of a “coffee coloured music of the future” that reflects “a globalised world constantly integrating and hybridising, where differences [are] celebrated and dignified.” Hassell came up with the coffee/music metaphor well before the era of world music, Starbucks, and Putumayo, before Eno and David Byrne’s “My Life in the Bush of Ghosts” (which arguably launched the era of world music, if not Starbucks), and it certainly doesn’t work as well today as it might have then. If anything, coffee represents the homogenization of differences into a universal currency of caffeine-fueled global service-industrialism. (See Anahid Kassabian’s “Would you like some world music with your latte? Starbucks, Putumayo, and distributed tourism” for an interesting take on this.) But Hassell‘s music, to my mind, succeeded in integrating its source influences at a level that few hybrid musical forms had before then. “Earthquake Island,” “Aka-Darbari-Java,” and his two “Fourth World” collaborations with Eno were particularly good. At least on the level of content, Hassell’s musical caffeine might be considered “fair trade.” On the level of production, on the other hand, they still constitute something along the lines of cultural appropriation.

But, then, we live in an era of cultural appropriation run wild (or gone tame and mainstream)… Timothy Taylor’s “Global Pop,” “Strange Sounds,” and “Beyond Exoticism” do a good job chronicling some of this current within western musical culture.

why deleuze?

Not because of his convoluted language, which entices and charms the converted but puts off others (though linguistic innovation is a way to provoke new thinking), nor the ways some of his (and Guattari’s) concepts get taken by their followers into a celebratory Mad Max style of desert anarchism (though desert anarchism sounds okay to me, at times & for a while, just not as a model for social and political life).

But because of his willingness to think, to forge new, usable concepts in a space that’s free of presuppositions about what’s natural and what’s cultural, what can and what can’t be done, and in a way that makes the natural and the cultural, the political and the psychic/spiritual, open, maximally porous, and non-predetermined. Deleuzian thinking urges a fluidity with concepts, with structures and systems, as it creates productive textural mash-ups of the political, the psychic, the spatial, and the bodily and biological.

So while his books with Guattari are the best known, I would start with his work on images, cinema, thought, Bergson, Spinoza. In A Thousand Plateaus, I would start with the ethology and geology, the refrain, the smooth and the striated. I would also dig into his sources (from Spinoza to Pierce and Bergson to complexity theory) and work from them. Of his interpreters, I would recommend Manuel DeLanda (especially A Thousand Years of Nonlinear History), Bonta & Protevi, Clare Colebrook, Brain Massumi, and the applications to film, music, and the arts (Bogue, Buchanan, Grosz, et al).

But I also like the way his thinking has rippled in so many directions, reviving Spinoza (among others) in productive ways, setting off eddies and flows around the notions of affect (which brings together feeling, thinking, embodiment, subjectivity, and the presocial), ethology (which brings together humans, animals, and environments), ontology, territoriality/territorialization, production, etc. — into political theory (via William Connolly and Hardt/Negri), cultural theory and art & film & music practice, science studies (via actor-network/assemblage theory) and belatedly into environmental theory (via Jane Bennett, Stephen Muecke, Bonta/Protevi, Connolly, Guattari’s ecological activism, and see rhizomes 15 for some other starting points).

book list

rigpa meets anima…

Rigpa is the state of compassionate awareness that, according to Mahayana Buddhism, is the innermost nature of the mind. It is the primordial, nondual mind that shines through when unobscured; intelligent, cognizant, awake. “Empty in essence, cognizant in nature, unconfined in capacity.” Recognizing and dwelling within rigpa is the goal of Dzogchen practice (a kind of South/Central Asian relative or analogue of Zen meditation practice).

Anima suggests the state of animacy, animateness, animality, shared by all sentient beings. “Anima mundi” is the World-Soul that permeates and animates all things. “Animism,” both in its classical definition and in its revived and revalorized form (as used by anthropologists such as Nurit Bird-David and Tim Ingold and scholar of religion Graham Harvey), is belief and practice which recognizes the aliveness and “ensouledness” of all things. “Anima” is also Carl Jung’s term for the inner soul, the feminine part of the male self, though, by extension, I take this to mean the multifaceted diamond of animate soul within all things.

Where Rigpa meets Anima is where the empty, cognizant, unconfined essence of reflection meets the embodied, relational phenomenality of the world in its ceaseless becoming.

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