higher modalities

one of my favorite phrases from the last presidential election came from John Kerry. apparently, when he failed to fully articulate himself to his opponent, he was fond of levying the accusation that s/he "failed to understand the higher modalities of the situation." what an ingenious trump card to hold in your back pocket! (I have tried to use it many times myself on unsuspecting persons). (I imagine that now they's beginnin' to s'spect sump'n).

I am suspicious of the two-party political system in America, as well as its non-binary collegiate counterpart, social fraternities and sororities. part of this may well be my individualist nature; I resent being told what to believe and whom to befriend (although if Michel Foucault is correct, I've probably been socialized much more insidiously...there's an interesting new article about him here). one of JD's friends from college is a fascinating case study: a staunch Republican in college, he now campaigns on behalf of the Democratic party. he's an issue-voter for sure, but I can't help but think that his political enthusiasm is merely an outlet for his sociable nature (one of those "joiner" types Tocqueville praises) rather than any manifestation of idealism, lofty or otherwise (not that there's necessarily anything wrong with that...)

what I resent is the increasing centrism of the two-party system to the point where the parties are hardly distinguishable. politics have certainly made for strange bedfellows, and the resultant offspring are so discordant that the purportedly big tents don't represent anyone very well right now. in large measure, one feels that s/he is compelled to endorse the lesser of two evils, or to take a principled stand and vote third-party (also known as "throwing away your vote") . the dichotomies (that is, all the various permutations of voting your conscience/voting your pocketbook, along with all the "a-vote-against-me-is-a-vote-for-terrorism" bullshit) ought to be false ones. enter cynicism and political disengagement.

the farmer-statesman is certainly a romanticized trope, but it's one that seems increasingly desirable in this age of the career politician. I am dumbstruck by the insatiable hunger for power of those in high political office, and by the parallel lust for money (and power) of those in the executive suite who use the former to their personal advantage (in case you can't tell, I caught part of Mr. Smith Goes to Washington last weekend). [If you want to read a very interesting article about income distribution in America, check this out--it will give you a good visual.]

in the last post, I alluded to a possible shift toward populism. a few nights ago, JD and I listened to a rather fascinating exchange between Senator Byron Dorgan (D-ND) and Casey Mulligan, an economist at the greatest school on earth, but an awfully dismal scientist, in my view. this was moderated by Milt Rosenberg (also a greatest school affiliate, and quite an engaging radio host, I might add). summarily, Dorgan is considered a populist by many, and has written a book entitled "Take This Job and Ship It", while Mulligan is your basic free-market libertarian. as one who voted libertarian in the last election, I am increasingly dissatisfied with that position and thought Mulligan's position was lacking...cojones. it's easy enough to trot out economic theory whenever you're asked a pragmatic question, but when he kept referencing an unlikely example involving Barcelona when every listener knew he was being asked about Baja California and Shanghai--well that's pretty evasive and intellectually dishonest, if you ask me...as usual, I digress...

I guess the sociopolitical question for me is this: is it preferable to promote a laissez faire policy of free trade with the expectation that this will "flatten" the world economically (this proposition is dubious--some argue that it will yield a "pointy" world of a fabulously wealthy few living amidst masses of the poor) or is a somewhat protectionist policy favorable? (I can't wait to read JBE's Gifford Lectures on Sovereignty, but I've already been convinced by Hannah Arendt, and Reinhold Niebuhr, and to some extent, Bonhoeffer, that state sovereignty is legitimately sanctioned in Christian ethics ). one of Dorgan's many good points was that when big businesses in america search the globe to find the cheapest labor possible, they are really promoting slave labor, undoing the considerable reforms fought for in the united states for over a century by bypassing them entirely. I do think it's unconscionable that such businesses should in any way be rewarded for doing so (via tax breaks and other political favors) and for exporting jobs that have historically paid a living wage. I certainly don't think that state sovereignty precludes our duties to those around the globe--but I think it's doubtful we'll help many raise their standard of life by lowering those of "the last great hope" (note: I'm not necessarily speaking consumption-wise).

my main reservation with populism is that it may well tend to a tyranny of the majority. according to wikipedia, the opposite of populism is elitism, and I'm all for that, too. perhaps I'm really a communitarian?

until next time, here's to striving to understand the higher modalities of the situation.

sense and subjectivity

subjectivity is a subject I've been thinking about for a while now. (you're right, that is a horrible sentence, and yes, I am going to leave it that way). I'd been musing on it internally for quite some time when, after a filling dinner at HB with my friend Natalie (one of the supremely honored women in my life and undoubtedly one of the world's best listeners), half the bottle of pink wine I had consumed prompted me to share some very fuzzy thoughts with her on the way home. what I tried to relate (no doubt, poorly) was (and continues to be) my awe with the simultaneous independent and intertwined experience of the some six billion people on this earth, and as if that weren't enough fodder to keep me chewing for a few lifetimes, how those subjectivities relate to God. if you've ever seen the movie I Heart Huckabees, it's sort of the blanket concept--that here's a war, and here's a tree, and here's an orgasm and they're all connected. (disclaimer: I've been reading Alfred North Whitehead and even taught Adventures of Ideas in my Human Nature and the Social Order class, and these have both undoubtedly colored my own subjectivity). part of each of our subjectivities is our past experiences and how we bring those into the future. i've often thought it interesting that in my nuclear family there are (currently) something like 164 years of experience between my parents and sister and I, some of it shared, but all of it experienced uniquely. JD and I have about 51 years of experience between us, and given our extensive long-distance relationship prior to the present, the stuff that we've directly experienced together is a fairly small percentage of each of our lives. learning to live together in community and to understand how the other formed their outlook and opinions is certainly among the blessings and challenges of marriage.

learning to identify with and trying to understand "the other" (I believe it's called "alterity" to use a philosophical word coined by Emmanuel Levinas, but even earlier described by Adam Smith and perhaps others...even St. Paul?) seems an important task for a wannabe ethicist such as myself and for all humans who would be humane (me too, and hopefully you). alterity seems to me an important counterpart to judging well and growing in wisdom. thinking theologically for a moment, to laugh with those who are laughing and weep with those who are weeping are rather biblical commands that ought to put Christians in a perpetual state of tension and discernment. and one more thought for the road: I can't help but think that God must derive some pleasure from the varieties of subjectivities of those made Imago Dei. (well, perhaps some pleasure and probably a lot of grief.) I venture to think that the uniqueness represented by his creatures, and indeed, his creation, mirror the gratuitous abundance of God...

more about this, and perhaps some conspiracy theories, thoughts about my possible shift toward populism, and musings on globalization and the middle class soon. your comments are warmly welcomed. what are you thinking about?

so I've been thinking about food.

like my good friend Chef Yum Yum (a major souce of inspiration for this blog), I too, "eat every day." much of this thinking about food has been due to the recent receipt of some long-awaited Shun knives that JD and I ordered several weeks ago. they came earlier this week, and I, being home during the day, had the privilege of opening them. amidst all the excitement, I almost failed to notice that as I hastily undid the bubble wrap around the cardboard-sheathed samurais, the pointy ends were making contact with my abdomen. miraculously, a self-administered appendectomy was avoided, and I immediately set about finding more appropriate things to slice with my new appendages. did I mention that HOLYCRAPTHESETHINGSARESCARYSHARP? I mean, they seriously feel like weapons. much of it is their razor-sharpness, heavy weight, and considerable length, but the Japanese insignia on the blade no doubt adds to their ninja-esqueness. I find myself checking to make sure Oliver is not underfoot when I’m using them. I’m thinking his days of ass-grabbing in the kitchen are numbered, but I digress…

in anticipation of the knives, I purchased the foodstuffs to make a Tex-Mex feast, out of the same yellow book to which Chef Yum Yum links you. yes, she inspired that, too. (although I contend it’s been one of the most profitable gifts for JD that he’s ever given—he agrees). I was, back in high school, a vegetarian for about four months; I’m more of an omnivore now, but I’ve been doing a good bit of thinking about eating more intentionally, “lower on the food chain,” if you will, and making more of an effort to sacramentalize meals that involve animal flesh. proudly, this meal did not.

I’ve grown really fond of chilled soups this summer (working my way through the Yellow Book, I’ve made chilled vichyssoise, and a green pea summer soup, among others). all the pureeing and straining yields soups of such saturated color and concentrated flavor. [remember when Buster communicates his love for soup to Lindsay? Amen to that, I say.] this time, I was ready for the Roasted Corn and Avocado Soup with Cilantro Oil, accompanied by the Green Chile Cheese Puff (essentially a crustless quiche/soufflé involving a block of shredded Monterey jack and a cup cottage cheese—what’s not to love about that!?)

this soup, not unlike many others, calls for finely diced onions. now onions are a very common aromatic, but they have been the bane of my existence in the kitchen. I hate the smell on my hands, and they make me cry (because they make sulfuric acid in your eyes!)—it hurts real bad!! I have gone so far as to wear swimming goggles in the kitchen (it’s a good look for me). JD often accuses me of trying to find a materialistic solution to every problem under the sun (this is probably about 75 percent valid), but between my rub-away-bar and my new knives, onions will trouble me no more. I have never sliced so effortlessly, accurately, and quickly! suddenly, cutting onion is a joy. until next time, here is a picture of my beautiful, verdant soup for your viewing pleasure, and/or inspiration.

okay, so i'm not british (and you don't have to be, either)

frankly, with all the transcontinental security issues as of late, i'm surprised this blog name wasn't taken--that and all the hordes of arrested development fans out there (of whom i hope you are one). you oughta be. in fact, that's probably the only prerequisite for reading this blog. well, that and basic literacy.

as a grad student at the greatest school on earth (if you don't know, i'm not going to tell you...at least, not yet) i've been schooled in the postmodern style of self-disclosure, taught to articulate 1) why i'm writing and 2) what i hope to accomplish thereby, and 3) my modus operandi: (1) peer pressure - many of my friends have blogs, and i enjoy "hearing" their voices as i read about the inner workings of their hilariously twisted minds and various exploits; (2) prolificacy - (which is a real word according to dictionary.com) i'm a very slow writer who has, in recent years, become rather notorious for long-overdue papers. i'm hoping that, rather than becoming a vehicle for procrastination, that this blog may help me to overcome some of my writer's block; and finally, (3) posterity - since the age of fifteen, i have always had summer jobs (with one exception when no one wanted to hire an individual with half-a-master's-degree from (un)said greatest school on earth). my new husband, who has chosen a sensible and urbane career for himself, has willingly agreed to support my life of the mind until i return to school in in late september, and i've found myself with quite a bit of time on my hands for thoughtful reflection (or at least thoughts). sometimes they seem worth pursuing in greater depth, but i find they often slip away, hence the need to capture them for further contemplation and the possibility of insight from others (i suspect that possibility, gentle reader, is indeed probable!)