24h Velo... and 6 years of training

I remember the first time I heard of Leuven.

It was during my first year at university, six years ago. It wasn't actually about Leuven as such, but rather about the 24 hour bike race in Louvain-La-Neuve. It was during a lecture on transgression, festival, and jouissance. And naturally, I was immediately interested. My professor told the class about the moment when the self control and restraint of the participants dissolves and the party as a whole takes on a will of its own. He told us about how the town closed off all the roads, leaving access only for the numerous emergency vehicles standing by. "People die almost every year!", he said. He told us about drinking rituals involving regurgitated libations and the complete disregard for the usual repulsion one feels for human excrement of all sorts.

Naturally, he was exaggerating.

And yet, his descriptions weren't so far from the reality--or hyper-reality--that I experienced at the 24h Velo. By the end of the night I had rode drunk through the circuit inside a giant papier maché model of Aladdin's Genie. I had started a mosh pit with some Belgian punks. I had shielded a complete stranger as she stooped beside me to relieve herself in the street. And, most notably, I had rubbed the smooth head of a bald girl (also a stranger), as if it were the lamp of a wish-granter.

But wait, back up... I'm getting ahead of myself.

We arrived at Louvain-La-Neuve at noon, so that we could witness the beginning of the race at 1pm. In the mean time, my friend Gabriel gave me a brief tour of his home university and town. Already there were many people on the street, but he told me that by night fall every street would be as crowded as a dancehall. We walked down the large lake where students went to relax and enjoy BBQ on the banks. As we looked over the placid water Gabriel remarked on the relative silence of the moment, asking me if we had the expression "the calm before the storm" in English. I knew exactly what he meant.

I ordered my first of many drinks just after 2. At this time, the scene was still pretty tame, with activities being held for kids. Student groups had to hold some sort of children's activity, and in return they were allowed to have their own bar for a couple of hours later on. I met several of Gabriel's friends in a wine-tasting club, whose children's activity was something like a mix between wine-tasting and the Pepsi-Coke challenge. Deciding whether a drink was regular or diet doesn't seem quite as fun as the pie-throwing activity run by his other friends!

After meeting his friends in the childrens' area, we headed over to the area geared towards our own age group: the university parking lot. This lot was converted into a festival center, with a grandstand and bars set up all around the perimeter, each representing a particular province of Belgium and offering a unique drink from that place. The idea, I was told, is to do a grand tour, taking a drink from each of the 20 or so booths. I think I made it to about 10 before heading to a different part of town. As we tried some local drinks, we watched a pudding-eating contest on the bandstand. This was nearly enough to make me return all my drinks in the most ungracious manner... if you get my drift. Competitors had a row of pudding cups, and on the mark they had to gulp down each cup. The pros were swallowing each cup in one single gulp. Quarter-finalists only had to worry about six cups each... but the finalists, one big guy and one not-so-big girl... had to swallow back 12 cups each. The whole process only took them about 90 seconds, and involved a well-used barf-bag. In the end it was in fact the girl who had won. Slight disgust turned to slight intrigue as someone exclaimed, "it is amazing, all the things a French woman can do with her mouth..."

Shortly after the pudding fiasco, Gabriel and I decided we were drunk enough to ride a lap of the circuit. We waited our turns and then climbed under the giant papier maché Genie, and mounted our two attached bikes. Already we knew that it would be a long ride... his gear change clanked at every rotation and one of my pedal shafts was hopelessly bent out of shape, so that one leg bowed out every time the pedal made a turn. Still we were very determined, and even more intoxicated. Aside from running into a barricade or two, we were superb. We even passed some other bikes! We finished the circuit in about 25 minutes, a full 5 minutes quicker than the two who went before us.


Later on we went to a rock concert and eventually to an electronica/house concert. At the rock concert I saw some guys who were lightly jumping and bumping, and so I decided to show them how we mosh in Canada. Within seconds a group of 6-8 guys were skanking away, bodies slamming and fists flying. It was absolutely wonderful.

During the concert I went away to relieve myself behind a beer tent. Note: this is not in any way out of the general view of the crowds, just slightly less visible than most other places. As I was going, this girl walks up to me and stares at me. I say, jokingly, "care to join?" and without saying a word she comes right up beside me, drops her pants, and squats. What did I do, you might ask? Well, being the gentleman that I am, I finished up and turned my back to her, shielding her from the crowd until she got up. "Merci!" And off she went.

Try to imagine an entire town closed off for a party with about 20-30 thousand students... and NO public toilets in sight. Needless to say, she wasn't the only one we saw squatting in the street!

At around 3 am, we moved on to the electronica stage. The music was bumping and the crowd was going mad. It was in this crowd that I had my most precious moment of the night. Let me first explain something. In a crowd with so many people, the key to making encounters of any sort is to set yourself apart from everyone else somehow, whether it be by wearing rave sticks or flashy clothes or dying your hair a wild colour. Well, everyone has hair, right? So it is no surprise that the first person to catch my attention was an attractive young girl with absolutely no hair on her head. I knew at once my mission: I MUST PET THAT GIRL'S HEAD... if it's the last thing I do.

So, I went up to the girl and told her that nothing would make me happier than to, if only just once, pet her head. And naturally, she refused. I continued to entreat her and she continued to turn me down, though by this point I could tell I had caught her interest. When I saw that she was starting to enjoy this little game, I excused myself and found my friends for a drink. After a little while I returned to the girl, and explained to her that my friends were eager to leave and that if she didn't grant me my single wish, then my whole night would be just a little bit spoiled. She grabbed my hand and rubbed it against the back of her head... at last! What a happy moment. With that I told her she had made my day and wished her a good night.

As I lay in some dorm room couch that night/morning, nursing my throbbing brain, I thought to myself, I made it. After six years I finally experienced the jouissance of the 24h Velo. Without another thought I slipped away into unconsciousness.

Welcome to Tiensestraat 276

The first item of action when moving to any city is securing a living space. So from my first morning in Leuven until the moment I signed a contract, my sole concern was to find a "studentenkamer". These are private rooms subsidized by the University. They consist of a small room usually with furnishings and a bed, commonly with shared bathroom and kitchen facilities. The reason I sought these rooms over studios, flats and apartments is simple: they're cheap, like the budgie. Most went at around 230-270 Euros, and from 300-350 Euros for a room with a private bathroom. On top of this there is often added a 50 Euro utility bill.
I found a place for 205 Euros per month, all in. Out of the eight places I had already seen, this was by far the cheapest, and none of the others gave me a private shower and 3 metres of windows looking out over the rooftops of the city. The views of most kamers (rooms) are limited to the building on the other side of the street.

I first found the place as I was walking down Tiensestraat looking for signs that said, "Kamer te huur". Smelling the warm, yeasty scent of a bakery, I noticed in the window just such a sign. And so I inquired within, taking note of that scent that I would smell every morning for the next 11 months. When I asked for a viewing, the woman behind the counter gave me a set of keys and in broken English instructed me to go to the top floor, that she could not come up with me and tend to her shop at the same time. By the time I reached the room, I understood that the 75 stairs may have been a factor in her choice to stay in the shop. The stairwell had water damage and some mould... not a good sign. But it was clear that work was being done, for the thick wallpaper was being stripped off for future replacement. There were three things that I first noticed when I entered the room. First, it was a dusty mess. Second, the floor is so sloped that it takes my skateboard 2.3 seconds to roll from one side of the room to the other. The third thing, however, put all other concerns into perspective: a large desk facing a span of windows 3 metres long. From this new writing desk I could look out over the city of Leuven and contemplate.

Only two doors down from me is a small supermarket with everything I need for day-to-day provisions. Good thing, too, for I have no kitchen and no fridge or freezer. I shall purchase a hotplate or an electric grill, and buy fresh food daily. Hopefully this will in fact help me save, since I will never be able to hoard and always know the cost of each individual meal. Living cheap is a life skill. Gotta practice it as much as possible.

My second day in Leuven, I had found a perfect place for myself. Hem duril'a. That day I had already went through the aggravating process of registering as a student at the university. But the biggest task of the day was carrying two large luggage bags weighing 23 kg each from the hostel to the stairwell. This 20 minute portage was not extremely enjoyable. I dragged them through a construction zone, a train station tunnel, and down 3 blocks on the ringroad. Then came the 75 stairs. After getting my bags up into the room, I sighed in relief, hem duril'a.
There was much to be done, however. The room was a dust pool, and so I set about the three hour task of dusting and sweeping to every corner. By the end I had collected a veritable mountain of dust.

But finally I could remove my scarf from my face and breath easy in this room that through my labour had become more of a home to me. Since then I have cleaned the shower and the sink, the windows and mirror, and all the furniture. I have purchased a rug for outside my shower door to prevent water from spreading to other areas in my room. Aside from that, I have placed in the room many posters, a degree, and an opened box of Kellogg's Smacks. The nesting process is nearing completion.

My place, as I have explained, is in a very convenient location. Not only am I near stores and bars, but I am less than ten minutes from both the philosophy department and the skatepark. Let's just say I've decided it's worth my 205 Euros per month. With the first month and security deposit made, all I have left to do is meet the neighbors...

"A Friend is Better than a Stranger"

Well,
Here I am in Leuven.
After five years of steadily growing anticipation, I have finally arrived in that place I once heard of in a classroom back home. Now I anticipate new classrooms, and do what I can to make my new room a suitable home. It has been five days since I drove with my cousin Huub from Maasbree to Leuven and signed in at the de Blauput hostel. Since then I have registered as a K.U. Leuven student, I have secured a room for then next 11 months, and I have registered as a Leuven resident at the Stadhuis (City Hall). Not to mention, I have recieved lessons in Arabic and shared in interfaith dialogue with a doctor from Sudan. I have discussed the disappointing direction that American capitalism is headed towards... with an undergraduate student from Ohio. I have shared excitement about coming to a new city and shared concerns about culture shock with a girl from England. Needless to say, the K.U.Leuven posters weren't lying when they proclaimed that my experience in Leuven would be an international one!
My first day in Leuven happened to be a Belgian national holiday and the final day of a three-week long celebration in Leuven. Midway operators yelled out the Flemish equivalent of "Everybody wins!", and vendors listed off the benefits of their products. To my horror, every main street was as crowded as a Disney park at Christmas. On my first morning on this first day of my year in Leuven, I was not so surprised that there were people of all ages drinking in the street. What did surprise me, however, was the sheer number of people doing it at 10 a.m. on a Monday.
By noon 40-year-old couples staggered in each other's arms, doing everything in their power to walk in a semi-straight line and not spill their beer. Bands played on street corners, where crowds would dance and sing along to a somewhat unnatural mix of Belgian folk music, dancehall, and nineties American pop. With only the slightest hint of seriousness, I once again ask myself, what have I gotten myself into this time??
The answer came later that evening in the form of a very moving conversation with a medical doctor named Amir from Central Sudan. The night before, I had noticed that my roommate at the hostel had a prayer shawl and rug, so I wrote a note to him while he was out:

"Hello, my name is Josh and I'm from Canada. I hope we meet sometime soon. Cheers, salam!"

Salam is one of the only Arabic words I know, and perhaps it is the most useful for making new friends: it is a holy greeting that essentially means peace be with you.

Anyway, the conversation I had with Amir on the next night was most certainly opened by this very simple and yet infinitely complex word. I shall not explain in detail what we discussed, but I can tell you it involved sharing our ways of personal prayer, a comparison of our respective faiths, as well as a proper exchange of food. In exchange for one of his granola bars, I gave Amir a fresh pear from Huub's garden. With this he broke the day's fast (Ramadan). We discussed two reasons or justifications for fasting. The first justification is simply that fasting is the instruction of God. In a world of faith, there is no greater justification. The second justification is perhaps more aligned to strictly scientific outlooks: to limit the satisfaction of appetites for food, intoxicants, and sexual pleasure increases spiritual appetite for understanding, wisdom, and awakening. Such a concept was not new to me, as it is the 'second reason' for so many other mystical traditions, be they Christian, Jewish, Hindi or Buddhist. I welcomed it as a healthy reminder after a long day of festivities and a long week of jovial beer drinking with Thijs and Liesbeth in Maasbree!

Finally came the answer to my earlier question concerning my current situation. My heart was tickled when Amir taught me my second Arabic phrase: Hem duril'a. This utterance essentially means "I am satisfied". One says this when they finish a prayer, a meal, or when they get caught up in happiness, sadness, frustration, and so on. It is a way of accepting with open arms one's fate. An ecstatic moment elapsed as Amir promised me that he would, whenever I requested, teach me Arabic free of charge. At this moment the two of us understood that we had made a very special bond. Hem duril'a. We finished the evening with prayer: him on his rug and me bed-side.

It seems that the two other people I met may becomes friends during the year, albeit perhaps not friends with such a spiritual link. Perhaps. The future is yet-to-come. I met a German philosophy undergrad from Ohio in the hostel as well. He had spent the previous year studying in Austria, and surely it had rubbed in. He and I shared our views on North American media, consumerism, and corporate control. Our discussion was not limited to Walmart, small-town quarterback stardom, and the complete obliviousness of a large section of the population to what is really going on in the world, beyond the shield of corporate-controlled media. My new friend decided that perhaps it was growing up in such an environment that led him to such a great interest in Marxist and Socialist theory.

The third person I had a good conversation with was a law student from England here on exchange. I met her at the 'Stadhuis', the City Hall, to register as a resident. We discussed our mutual early onset of culture shock, as she told me that I was the first person she was able to have a real sort of conversation with... one not in embarrassed, broken English. It was nice to not have to worry about the language barrier for a bit. I suppose I shall meet her and her friends soon, and together we can, so to speak, break that barrier down over several alcoholic beverages.

Something I said to Amir quite perfectly sums up my attitude during these first days in Leuven: "A friend is better than a stranger."

A day in Maastricht

Maastricht: impressive architecture, beautiful college girls, and tasty apricot pie.
Of course there's much more to discover in the Limburg capital, but one must not deny the power of first impressions. During my initial visit to Maastricht, I was struck by the sense of youthful energy given by the many students of the city's university, along with the firm sense of tradition offered by the city's buldings, cobblestone streets, and ancient city walls.
Liesbeth, my friend and relative with whom I am staying for my first week in Europe, brought me to the city to check out the sights and to visit the Brasserie Bonhomme, a little restaurant owned by her relative. Bonhomme is a fairly new eatery found on 'Het Bat', built on the banks of the Maas only two years ago. Already it has become a well established business. I am told the Limburg province is known for its pies... well, Bonhomme is no exception to the rule! My first dish there was the apricot pie, for this is a favorite in my family which I have never tried. If you are ever in Maastricht, visit Bonhomme and order apricot pie!

After pie, Liesbeth and I took a walking tour of an old section of Maastricht. There is an information centre near Bonhomme which offers a guide pamphlet with information about some of the major attractions of the city. Even without a guide, however, one will quickly notice the distinct style of architecture in Maastricht. Rows of multi-level buildings sandwiched together line the streets, many of which are slightly leaning due to the age of their foundations. Because they are so close, each building supports the other. Even the newer buildings are designed in such a way that they will not be too different from the old ones, and many old buildings are renovated rather than removed.





There is another distinct characteristic of the architecture in Maastricht: the very soft, sand-colored bricks of which most of the oldest buildings are composed. These bricks are made from marl, dug from the nearby grottos. At one point in time Maastricht and all of the Netherlands were completely under water, and so marl formed from the sediment at the bottom of the sea. For this reason the bricks are soft enough for passers-by to carve their names into! On the other hand, such a soft brick allows for artisans to carve ornate decorations into walls and facing. Aside from decorating the exteriors of the several exquisite churches, marl stone decorations are also found on private residences, reflecting the nobility of the past inhabitants of each house.




When I wasn't looking up at the facing of the buildings around me, I was checking out the many fellow students in this town. Maastricht is filled with beautiful college girls! Woohoo! One of my favorite things in life, and I'm not ashamed to say it. It was exciting to get a first glimpse of student life in Europe, only two days into my time here. And let me say, the prospects were wonderful. I look forward to studying at university here...

"Is Ontology Fundamental?" A Levinasian critique of Heidegger's project of fundamental ontology.

I posted this blog this past fall on the accursed share, a growing philosophy/political theory blog. Please check out the site when you finish reading this!

“Is Ontology Fundamental?”

This my first blog, so I decided to start with something of special interest to me. I will give a brief exegesis of Emmanuel Levinas’ essay, “Is Ontology Fundamental?”. In this text Levinas outlines his critique of Heidegger’s project of fundamental ontology and introduces in basic terms the concept of the Other. Whereas Levinas worked with Heidegger for a short time, this paper marks Levinas’ shift away from Heidegger’s project. A major concern in Levinas’ critique is the failure to support an ethics. Levinas’ aim in his critique of Heidegger’s project is to show a relation that exceeds the bounds of the science of being (i.e., ontology).

It is perhaps helpful for some who have not had a proper introduction to Heidegger that I give a few words on the theme of Heidegger’s fundamental ontology. This is by no means a ‘proper’ introduction, and I recommend you sit down with some Heidegger and try it out to get the best understanding. In Being and Time, Heidegger addresses the question of the meaning of being. In doing so, he argues that Dasein’s (i.e., the human way of being, human being; being there, and there being.) understanding of being (i.e., ontology) is the condition of the possibility of existence.

Through the authentic understanding of being as such and in general on the one hand, and on the other hand the inauthentic understanding that consists primarily in the forgetfulness of the ontological difference (between being as such and in general and beings/’entities’), one always already has a particular understanding of being. Such an understanding is, according to Heidegger, fundamental to experience and even to being itself in the Heideggerian scheme. The ontological difference can be explained by the following two statements: “The being of beings “is” itself not itself a being” (Heidegger 5); but, “being is always the being of a being” (ibid. 7).

A primary characteristic of this understanding of being is that it is not merely intellectual, but rather consists in every facet of human activity. That is, Ontology is not simply about knowing, it is about doing. Such a distinction provides a first step for Levinas’ move towards an ethics, a step that nevertheless requires a refutation of Heidegger’s ontology.

The current discussion turns away from introductory remarks about Heidegger towards Levinas’ critique.

If we think of being as constituted by the comprehension of being, as Heidegger does, then the relation with the Other, which (as it will be shown) always exceeds our comprehension, also exceeds being. Comprehension always moves from the particular to the universal. We move from the particular tree to the idea of the tree, to use the language of Plato, which in its own right does not fully reflect Heidegger’s ontology in that it posits the being of beings as a being, namely an ‘idea’. In more Heideggerian terms, we move from a being/entity to being as such and in general.

As such, comprehension always places the particular in the context and confines of a system: comprehension literally de-fines, in the most etymological sense of this word. This is a move toward totality: it sets out the bounds of experience and assumes the insurpassibility of these bounds. However, our relation with the Other always already exceeds the bounds of our totalizing ‘system’ of knowing. To know the other, distinguished from generally experiencing the other, is to reduce the other to the Same.

What then is the nature of my relation with the Other, if not a relation within my comprehension? Consider the distinction made popular by Derrida: the distinction between the naming (i.e. labeling) of an entity—and the invocation or calling out to an entity. The first assumes the entity as a direct object of my act of comprehension, my placing it within a system of signification and understanding with reference to an overarching arche. Calling out, an invocation, “priere” in French (to pray; to invoke) to some entity does not reduce that entity to a point within a referential totality.

When one names an entity, one defines it; that is, one places it within the confines of a particular definition that gains signification only within a totality of reference. This is the function of comprehension. In contrast, a calling out or invocation does not attempt to ‘possess’ or ‘consume’ the particular (read: the Other) within a totality of reference, but rather lets the entity reveal itself as it is ‘in-itself’. We cannot but have this second type of relation with the Other, since to enframe the Other in a referential totality is to reduce the Other to the Same. It is only in calling-out to the Other that we remain in relation with the Other.

Levinas calls the ‘Self’s’ (this word has its implications, not to be discussed here for the sake of brevity, but merely to be pointed out) relation with the Other “religion” (Levinas 8), which should not be understood merely in the everyday sense. Religion entails a faith in the unidentifiable that does not reduce it to a defined conception, but lets it “be” as it is. Faith is the form of non-knowing. “Religion”, therefore is a fitting term to be borrowed and applied to the Self’s relation with the Other (for more on “religion” in this sense, see Levinas’ Totality and Infinity, n.b. 40 of the cited edition).

Here we have a distinction between on the one hand a comprehension that names the Other and thus places the Other in the context of a totality, and on the other hand a relation with the other that lets the Other reveal itself as it is in-itself, that is, separate from our comprehension. The naming of the Other, insomuch as it limits the particular to a general concept, is “a partial negation that is violence” (Levinas 9). It is at the same time a taking possession of the Other, an enslavement… or at least it would be if such a relation were possible. As I stated before, such a relation is precisely not a relation with the Other, since it reduces the Other to the Same. I am unable to possess the Other in the totality of knowing. The Other infinitely exceeds my grasp.

If I could exercise complete power over the Other, I could fully negate the Other: such a negation would be nothing short of murder. However, even in murder the “Who” of the Other escapes me. The relation is no longer one with the Other in-itself, but rather a relation to an object, a thing in the world, within the horizon of my totality of knowing. Levinas says, “To be in relation with the Other face to face is to be unable to kill. It is also the situation of discourse” (9).

So to address the question that titles the paper: “Is Ontology Fundamental?” No, Levinas contests. Ontology—insofar as it is a science, a knowing, a ‘logy’—is the reduction of the Other to the Same; a reduction that always defines limits to form a referential totality. Since the Other always already exceeds the definite limits of such a totality, we cannot, after all, consider ontology fundamental.

-Joshua Blackmore

Works cited

Heidegger, Martin. Being and Time. Trans. Joan Stambaugh. Albany: SUNY, 1996.

Levinas, Emmanuel. “Is Ontology Fundamental?”. Basic Philosophical Writings. Ed. Peperzak, Adriaan T., Simon Critchley and Robert Bernasconi. Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1996: 1-10.

---. Totality and Infinity: and Essay on Exteriority. Trans. Alphonso Lingis. Pittsburgh: Duquesne University Press, 1969: n.b., 40.

Mes rêves pour l'avenir

Delivered on March 31, 2008.

Écoutez bien,

J’aimerais racontrer mes rêves pour l’avenir, mais nous ne voyons clairement nos rêves jamais, malheureusement. Neanmoins, j’essayerais de racontrer ces énigmes.

Le rêve le plus immediate est celui le voyage et decouverte du monde. Personnellement, j’assimile les voyages et experiences mondailles à la réussite, à lieux du succès monetaire. Certainement, il faut reconnaitre qu’on doit gagner de l’argent, à l’avance de ses voyages mondiales! Mais, je rêve des experiences seulement, sans des pensées d’argent.

Idealment, j’aimerais visiter tous les pays que je n’ai pas déja visité. Jusqu’ici, j’ai visité les Etats-Unis, le Mexique, le Cuba, l’Angleterre, la France, le Japon, et la Corée du Sud aussi. Alors, maintenent je voudrais visiter tous les pays en Europe. Je voudrais visiter la Belgique, l’Allemagne, et la France en particulier, et j’ai fait une demand de la maîtrise en Louvain, Belgique.

Si je suis admis à la Katholieke Universiteit Leuven (K.U. Leuven), je voyagerai à Dusseldorf en août et je ferai des études de la philosophie pendent une année. Je vais écrive une thèse dans les écrits de la Heidegger, et dans les sujets de la temporalité et des experiences mystiques.

Quand j’ai du temps libre et de l’argent, je voyagerai en France, l’Allemagne et les Pays Bas pour visiter mes familles, pour faire de tourisme, et pour faire du skateboarding! Dans ces pays, il y a beaucoup de beaux parcs pour skateboarding avec des grandes piscines et rampes. Pendant ces excursions, je visiterai les universités et les bibliothèques majeures aussi, dans Freiburg, Berlin, Amsterdam, et Paris, par example.

J’espère completer ma thèse pendant une année seulement, mais si j’ai besoin de plus de temps, je passerai deux années pour l’ecrire. Franchement, je suis un peu timide quand je pense à la thèse! J’espére que j’aurai du succés dans la maitrise.

Après ma premiere année dans la Belgique, je voudrais passer le temps à l’Allemagne ou aux Pays-Bas. J’ai la famille dans les deux pays, et j’espère que j’y travaillerai et étudier l’allemande, et faire de tourisme aussi!

Je voudrais travailler dans la ville de ma grande-mère, Iserlohn. J’y vais enseigner l’Anglais, peut-etre. J’espère que j’y trouverai des postes dans une école anglaise. Ma grande-mère racontrait toujours que mon grande-père et elle allaient faire des promenades dans la Foret Noir, et ainsi je voudrais bien y aller faire des promenades aussi.

Mes rêves pour l’avenir sont des rêves mondiales. Les rêves de voyager, et les rêves d’étudier. Parce que mes rêves sont tellement mondiales, je dois travailler tout le temps avant de partir, et economizer bien!

Merci a vous.

King's Philosophy Wine and Cheese Speech

Written and delivered Wed. March 26, 2008
At King's University College at the University of Western Ontario

I've been here for five years, believe it or not.
Occasionally I ask what I can do with the understanding that I've developed in this place. Understanding, I say, since it would be misleading to say knowledge or to say wisdom.
Here's why I think so. To me, knowledge is a matter of becoming familiar with certain concepts and ideas through an examination of the world around us. Wisdom, on the other hand, is not a matter of examination, not a matter of observation, but a matter of action.
Wisdom is not gained through reading books.
This is probably one of the most important things I have learned here—and it took five years and a lot of reading to figure it out.
I say understanding because I see Kings' Gift to us as a combination of knowledge and wisdom, a matter of observation and action.
I say understanding because King's has shaped the ground on which we now stand—upon which we will forge our paths in life.
I say understanding because I finally—after all this time— feel like I finally understand a little bit of what it means to struggle—and to finally succeed.
At whatever point you are at on your path, I pray that these brief words will help you find some answers to just what you can do with the things you have learned in this place. I pray that King's will continue to have an impact on the way you live your life.
Finally, and this doesn't seem like too much to ask, I pray simply that our paths cross and we meet again to enjoy drinks and words...

TO KING'S, TO THE LOVE OF WISDOM, AND TO US...
CHEERS!!!

JB

Welcome to Sophistical Subterfuges.

Being as I am sick at home, bored, and unable to leave my room, I have decided to take my mind away from the flu by getting started on my blog. I should take this first opportunity to introduce some of my plans for the blog, and, of course, explain a little about the name.

Without further ado, I shall explain just exactly what the heck I mean by "sophistical subterfuges", as I can imagine it will draw a few blanks. Well, first off, let me say that "drawing a blank" is pretty much the idea behind these words. They are taken from Kant's Critique of Pure Reason. For those of you who have studied Kant's critiques, you will know that usually reading Kant is a bit like listening to the drone of a robot. It is often difficult to see any human behind his words. This particular passage, however, has always struck me as a flash of passion shining through:

"In the writings of modern philosophers I find the expression mundus sensibilis and intelligibis used with a meaning altogether different from that of the ancients--a meaning which is easily understood, but which results merely in an empty play upon words. [...] Such a twisting of words is a merely sophistical subterfuge; it seeks to avoid a troublesome question by changing its meaning to suit our own convenience." (CPR A257/B313).

For now I won't discuss Kant's topic of discussion, namely the distinction between the sensible world and the intelligible world, but by the end of this first post it should become clear that this distinction is essential to my plans for this blog. No, for now I will only discuss the name. For those of you who haven't read Kant, and, for that matter, haven't read so much philosophy in general, let me explain the phrase "sophistical subterfuge" as I understand it.

"Sophistical" has a number of senses, all of which are relevant. It can be loosely meant to refer to something "philosophical", coming from the Greek "sophos", meaning wisdom. A more precise sense takes into account an alternate translation of sophos: meaning clever... which more accurately describes what Kant, as well as I, have in mind here. Clever as a fox, as the expression goes, tricky.... deceptive... in other words, not to be taken at face value.

Every moment that I engage in philosophical discourse, this sense of sophos quietly resides in the back of my mind. What am I, what are we, doing when we ask questions that cannot be appeased by any answer? Or to ask the most philosophical question, why? Why do we ask unanswerable questions? There has been a great deal of books published addressing these questions, and so I won't waste our time addressing them. All I have to say is that the impossibility of appeasing these questions does not, at least for myself, give sufficient reason to stop asking them. As someone once told me, "Keep asking questions".

Simple enough.

Oh, that reminds me, I should explain the word "subterfuge" as well, before you decide to stop reading and start living (if you haven't already made this choice). The best way to explain this word is to point out its etymological relation to the modern day word "fugitive"... "subter-" comes from the Latin meaning secret, and also underneath. "Fuge" comes from the Latin "fugere", meaning to flee. Together, this word has the sense of making use of strategies and disguises in order to evade, conceal, or escape.

Enough with the name. It is simply a mask, a sophistical subterfuge, designed to conceal something else that lays beneath the name. Before I finish this lengthy introduction, let me return to that distinction between the sensible world and the intelligible world in order to share with you my plans for this blog. This space in which I write will be a place where I can share my experiences of both of these worlds. I will use it to share and develop my thoughts and unanswerable questions (after all, what is philosophy but a continual improvement of how one asks questions?), and I will also use it to share my experiences of the world out there, both at home and abroad. So if you are willing, please join me every now and then in what can be called none other than the Sophistical Subterfuges of a Small Town Boy.