On empathic projection

From the webcam of the laptop with which I edited most of this post when I should have been writing my comprehensive exam.  FYI, Einstein was defending Bertrand Russell.

What is social justice?  No. Seriously. What IS it?  Thousands of years of philosophizing and insightful reflection have yet to glean a satisfactory response to a simple yet eminently consequential question.

From the pre-Socratics to Socrates himself, the Western tradition passed down an, at best, provisional explication derivable from the first books of Plato's Republic.  Philosophers have long grappled with the gravity of the question and with the associated gravity of a proficient answer.

Lately, scholars of social justice have gravitated toward the discourses of empathic understanding when confronted with the question of the criteria and/or substance of social justice.  The problem in practice, as I've witnessed it, is that the respondents confronted with social injustices apply empathy undemocratically.  Under the guise of equity, these "social justice warriors" exercise a limited form of empathy that privileges empathizing with particular groups as opposed to a consciously and rigorously maintained, indiscriminate empathic disposition.  Almost daily, I encounter new politically selective applications of empathy that violate the presupposed humanistic ethics and morality of empathetic practice.

Just as Henry Giroux argued that a "democracy can never be democratic enough," empathy can never be empathized enough.  The schools of liberal democratic thought taken to their logical extremes necessitate a democratic empathy and an empathetic democracy in which people practice empathy as democratically and exhaustively as possible.

The idealized desire for the practice of democracy and empathy in their extremities echoes the philosopher's restless pursuit of timelessness and universality.  During a heated philosophical discussion that feels like yesterday but actually transpired about 8 years ago, a great friend and I were arguing about the possibility of objective morality: or in other words, a morality that could transcend time and space and that would be applicable for any human context.  The other discussant was a staunch Christian, while I was a less radically agnostic version of myself.  We couldn't agree on anything other than that if such morality were ascertainable, it could be determined only through an application of reason and empiricism and could only be validated through some leap of faith.

Upon that insight, I wrote one of the first Facebook notes that became one of the first posts in this blog; it attempted to begin elucidating a rationalistic morality.  My consistent contemplation of this construct anticipated my attempt to illustrate the highest moral imperative.  Only recently did I realize that these explorations betrayed a deeper goal of uncovering a (read: the) universal morality via what I now refer to as empathic projection.

In order to practice empathy as democratically and exhaustively as possible, arguably, one must embrace empathic projection.  The OED defines "projection" as "an estimate or forecast of a future situation based on a study of present trends" and as "a mental image viewed as reality."  Essentially, "empathic projection" depicts a practice of empathy through which one estimates or forecasts the situations of future human beings in order to generate a mental image of what might comprise these beings' lived realities.  This practice might enable one to "empathize with potentiality."

In other words, empathic projection can enable an inquiry approach with which one extends inferences beyond past and present circumstances.  An indiscriminately empathic democracy necessitates that the thoughts, wills, and actions of its citizens not only consider empathy with those whom exist and will exist within their lifelitimes but with those whom potentially will exist (to be as democratic, equitable, and non-egoistic as possible). It's a narrowly presentist assumption that one need only empathize with those whom exist in one's generation or with those of the immediately succeeding generation.

The most universal ethic would require that moral judgement be situated not only by empathizing with those whom exist and will exist soon, but with those whom will exist who will never interact with you directly: a morality of the substantive Other.  Caring about people exhaustively inevitably anticipates caring about the future because there are infinitely more potential people of the future than there could ever be living today.  Ask yourself what these timelessly succeeding Others would ask of their preceding Others; this abstraction's moral intimations could validate a trans-generational human morality.

At the very least, logically, these succeeding Others would desire the same degree of opportunity (potentiality) as those whom preceded them since anything less than at least that potentiality would constitute a perfect injustice.  Thinking historically, this justified continuancy of opportunity followed a timeless trend of taken-for-granted equivalency of potentiality which, until the past ~50 years, had remained more-or-less uncontested.

Thus, empathic projection might reveal semblances of an ultimate universal "moral high ground" through the application of empirical reasoning and logic.  If this form exists at all—a morality and/or value system that exists in spite of and simultaneously among and within us, timelessly—then it might be revealable through empathic projection.

In sum, if there is a social justice to be realized, then empathic projection could be pivotal.  These intellectual gymnastics might be essential to cobbling together the political will to do what is necessary to preserve the sentience and sapience of this planet.  Without it, we will undoubtedly continue to elect those antithetical to the future.

On greatness

Memes have supplanted captions.

I have decided to endeavor to dedicate time to write non-academically; [(un)ironically, this post mostly concerns professional academics].  This blog has nearly ceased to exist because every time I think to write, I am compelled to do so toward my PhD coursework and research.  Those of you whom have read this blog previously would likely surmise that I have a complicated relationship with doing things for myself.

The topic of this blog post has been brooding since I attended the Congress of the Humanities and Social Sciences in Regina, Saskatchewan, last May (2018).  It was a major milestone in my life as it was the first time that I engaged with the highest echelon of academics as relative equals in candid, authentic dialogue.  I attended at least five two-hour sessions per day for five days, which, if you've ever attended the Canadian Society for the Study of Education, might be considered... ambitious.

I absolutely loved the experience; I reflected that I'll likely make most of my name as a academic through conferencing.

More critically, the experience lended credence to a philosophical outlook that I had been incubating over the past several years.

I've observed that the more eminent the intellectuals in my presence, the more elucidated becomes the relative dichotomy among academics, between those whom embrace greatness as a means and those whom pursue greatness as an ends in itself.

To illustrate this relationship, I need to explicate what I mean by "greatness."  I'm not just referring to renown, but more primordially to power and influence; regretfully, my vision of this idealized quality probably roughly mirrors that of Trump and his infamous slogan.  If all human intentions and relations engage with power discourses as Nietzsche and others would have us believe, then "greatness" could be construed as prominence within these discursive power relationships.

Listening to other professional academics speak candidly among their equals, I became increasingly curious as to where they fell on this spectrum from "greatness" as ends to "greatness" as means.

Those engaged as scholars whom embrace greatness as a means have variously abstained from the seductive, self-affirming influences of egotism.  They pursue grants and tenure because they know that these resources and positions will enable them to do increased justice to their research and to the beneficiaries of their research.  They respect and appreciate their and their colleagues' reputations, not because they have a vested interest in representationalism, but, rather, because their reputability factors into their capacities to continue to build and to refine knowledge for civilization.  These academics are seemingly marginalized.

Indeed, the seeming majority are engaged as scholars whom pursue greatness as an ends in itself.  Each of the signifiers of those embracing greatness as means becomes self-serving: egotistically, materialistically, nepotistically, etc.  Research becomes a means to self-empowerment as opposed to a means to empowering others; (this genre of academic inquiry becomes especially alarming when said research ostensibly bears the banner of social justice and/or decolonization).  Collegiality, for this group, tends to be first and fore-most self-interested.  The development of knowledge is an after thought of careerism.  Unsurprisingly, the scholarship of this latter group tends to crack under the burden of instrumental CV stacking.

I'm sure social, psychological, cultural, and economic theorists have systemic and/or discursive explanations for this lived reality, but, arguably, this growing chasm between these two increasingly insulated and institutionalized groups of academics could be, at least partially, dispelled philosophically.

As the cliché admonishes, "absolute power corrupts absolutely."  Absolute power in academia is usually determined by reputation that immunizes individuals from governance, collegial, and student scrutiny.  Those of this caliber who have objectified greatness rarely risk their immunities for the sake of others, especially for the most marginalized.  Followers of this blog would probably guess that I would argue that the academics of this echelon have the greatest capacities and therefore duties to act.  However, my cursory exposure implies that these high capacity intellectuals rarely threaten and/or sacrifice their positionality if such actions might diminish their objectified greatness.

Succinctly, greatness should never be an ends in itself.  It should always be a means to empowering others.

Those whom have objectified greatness rarely authentically find it with integrity.  The fact that the preceding statement could be construed as sanctimonious speaks volumes as to the contemporary and growing institutionalization of objectified greatness.  They, and we, need to do better.

Notably, this philosophical insight may speak to the political movement down South.  Political actors often narrativize the pursuit of others' greatness, merely co-opting this narrative that portrays what they should be doing, increasingly serving themselves and/or their families.  It's a terrifying and damaging hypocrisy with higher consequences for the higher the stakes.

Moreover, it could be reasoned that the pursuit of greatness is antithetical to the condition's realization, given the associated egotism and disempowerment of others necessary to confer and to sustain "greatness."  Proselytizing "America First" concomitant with xenophobic racism and nativism for the "restoration" of American greatness invariably illustrates this trend.

The objectification of greatness nearly always anticipates its depreciation and eventual nullification. Historically, the "greats" immortalized their greatness through their empowerment of others: They supported others for others' support for yet others' greatness.

And so, I admonish the reader to chase their greatness and to find their place in the zeitgeist, but to channel that pursuit as a means toward an end for and with others.  It's a deontological necessity that academics vanguard your and our students' greatness.

The Fight at the End of the Tunnel: A Tale of Three Teloi

One of my many sources of inspiration

As I near the end of my yearly New Year's gaming staycation that follows my time with family and friends and get back into zero-sum work mode, I am lead to once again reflect on why I will re-invest myself into that lifestyle.  The last three years, I've spent the transition after Christmas into the New Year gaming as much as I can to get it out of my system while most people are partying and vacationing.

I began writing this blog post before the holidays as a reflection on some of my conversations with some of my closest friends and allies.  One of these allies is a professor with whom I confide with about some of the most topical issues globally.  When discussing the most recent tax bill in the United States which promises to negate the legacies of about half of the 20th century presidents while emboldening the historically deplorable, this professor concluded the discussion by insisting that "it will get worse."

As teachers, we both have the responsibilities to foster hope and the precedents for innovation for the future among our pupils.  However, the realities of our day require a degree and type of vigilance that has little historical precedent (with the possible exceptions of the contextual contingencies of the World Wars).  Furthermore, as I insisted in confidence with another friend and ally, we can't shelter these kids from these circumstances forever (although we'd prefer to).

Most educators seem to teach as though there's some sort of light at the end of the tunnel of institutionalized education, whether in new innovations for addressing old problems, new(er) mental models for conceptualizing existing systems, and/or in some sort of well-paying, secure job.  As a student of history, I'm inclined to argue that this may have been true of 1950s-60s (and even into the 1980s) but that this perspective would now plainly underestimate the gravity of modern circumstances.  Trump was elected, climate change is happening before our eyes, and we're at the greatest risk of nuclear war since the Cuban Missile Crisis.  I could include an extended laundry list of issues that keep me up at night, but I'd admonish that you use your imagination.  

I'm inclined to challenge the assumption that we hold any privilege to certainty of any sort of utopian telos in or through education considering our collective situation.  Moreover, true humility lay in one of the first principles of existential philosophy: that our existences could be completely meaningless.  Naturally, a cognizance of this possibility has been the precursor of existential crises globally (mine included).  By extension, there's no means to certainty that there's a definitive light at the end of the educational tunnel in spite of adamant pursuit of education (Please note that I argue this as a practicing professional teacher who's taught across disciplines and as a full-time PhD student in the field of education; I don't make that claim lightly).

I'd remind the reader of one of the main ideas in astronomy: the Earth is a nigh impossible anomaly comprising a combination of factors conducive to the sufficient development of life into sentient beings.  As articulated by many authors and scholars before this writing, we are nearly negligible in the grand scheme of the observable universe.  Given our relative insignificance, it's a rare degree of arrogance to believe that the universe and/or its potential creator(s) care(s) about us.

No, we need to work with what's in front of us or else sociopaths and their sycophants will incorporate us into the front matter of their own narratives.

We can exercise a degree of free will, albeit heavily contextualized and coerced.  In my consistent reflections and discussions, I've narrowed our options into three general paths conducive to three different final ends (teloi) of education.  These options available to those who know enough to be responsible to those of the future represent three distinct responses to the question that I find myself asking recurrently, "to what end?"

1) Somewhere on the spectrum between exile and willful ignorance

In my experience, most of the people who bear the responsibility of knowledge of the potential consequences for posterity simply choose to ignore these very real threats to themselves and even to their own friends and families.  Others choose a self-imposed exile to try to put as much distance between themselves and the rest of human "civilization."  The remainder of those of this category of teloi fall somewhere on that spectrum, varying in degree of deliberate segregation and willful denial.  Who can blame them?  Well, I don't, but the people who will suffer through our legacies might.

2) Suicide/excessive drug addiction

Some people cannot accept reality for what it is.  Never forget that "O Captain! My Captain!", who played numerous roles as exceptional mentors and teachers, ended his own life battling with depression.  Suicide is one of the final consequences of our malaise.  I hear its echoes in social media and among my own graduate student communities in the gallows humour that keeps us sane.  I am faced with these questions myself, but, to this day, I still perceive it as the ultimate act of selfishness for someone in this position.  Which brings me to the logical option of

3) Fight

We all have parts in this narrative, and so we all have parts in how it ends.  Much of my re-investment in my daily commitment to service lay in my awareness of the reality that if the people with this knowledge have the capacity to choose not to fight, then all of us could choose not to do what needs to be done.  An existential philosopher might argue, needlessly fatalistically, that it could already be over.  I am simply unwilling to entertain that possibility.

And back to marking essays...