Frankenstein Meets The Rime-man

Growing up in the Godwin household, Mary Shelley was exposed to parlor conversations between her father and some of the brightest intellectuals of the day. In 1806 she and her stepsister hid under the sofa while Coleridge recited "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner." Ten years later Shelley began writing Frankenstein. Her book, as we know, deals with discovery, predominantly scientific discovery (through Victor) and to a lesser extent geographic discovery (through Walton). It also poses the same questions as Zezik about the ethical implications and possible real consequences of creating an artificially intelligent human being. In fact, Zezik uses Frankenstein as a model for what can happen when scientists lose control over their creations.

It’s less widely known that Coleridge was also concerned over the ramifications of science and discovery, particularly their historical development. According to Thomas Pfau, Coleridge considered modernity a “miscarriage.” In league with several German Romantics—Goethe, Schlegel, and Schopenhauer among them—modernity, which he traced back to the Cartesian method of rationality, ushered in an age of fractionalization and specialization. The result was the abandonment of the ancient notion of knowledge as the fortuitous fusion of theoria [contemplation] and eudaemnonia [human flourishing] in order to produce the vita contemplativa [the contemplative life]. Zizek says essentially the same thing when he refers to the “incessant activity” of scientists and technologists whose lives are run by the “objective constraint” of Progress.”

I’ve always had an underlying, unspoken belief that science and technology would save us. I guess that was my unknown known. There’s as much substance for believing in science as our savior as there is in believing in a talking snake as our nemesis. I agree with Zizek and Dupuy that the only way to confront the catastrophe is to first, accept that it’s unavoidable, and then govern our actions by what we would have done if we had known then what we know now. That’s the only way Zizek’s Four Points would have a chance of being implemented. But there’s another step that has to be taken: vote the tea party out of congress in ’14. 

Zizek and Ecology

      I found Zizek’s overall argument quite interesting. He is right in that although we are aware of the realities of global warming, our common sense makes it difficult for us to believe that something catastrophic will ever occur. According to Zizek, part of the problem is that we assume that the “world is part of reality as an ordered and seamless Whole” (444). When we look outside and see the trees swaying in the wind and hear the birds chirping, we see the sublimity of nature, but as Zizek points out, we are blind to many of the ecological changes (and its affects) to the environment. Part of the essay briefly mentions the mysterious disease that caused a huge decline in our honey bees, although many of us may have heard something on the radio or on the local news regarding the problem, I don’t think most of us seriously thought about how this will directly affect our lives. Until it becomes a catastrophic event, we continue to move on without giving the problem a second thought. And, when something horrible occurs, the desire or urgency in finding a solution to the problem quickly declines. For some reason, we cannot seem to sustain the public’s interest long enough to contend with the ecological crisis we are faced with today. 

Zizek’s first call to action is to follow Dupuy who suggests that we should first submit to the idea of a possible catastrophe and “perceive it as our fate, as unavoidable, and then, projecting ourselves into it, adopting its standpoint, we should retroactively insert into its past (the past of the future) counterfactual possibilities...upon which we then act today” (459). But  how do we know which “doom” to submit to? There are numerous scientific arguments that suggest we should focus on one potential catastrophe over another, which are we to chose? Also, when he argues that we should then “mobilize ourselves to perform the act,” it sounds as if there is one act in of it self that would fix the problem. Now, I’m not at all an expert on the details of our ecological crisis, but it would seem necessary for us to take on multiple acts simultaneously in order to evoke some kind of substantial change to the natural environment. Even if we were to attempt to solve the problem “retroactively,” there is no guarantee that the solutions we would come up with would work. 

He ends his essay with Badiou’s theory, the “eternal Idea” of revolutionary-egalitarian Justice (460). The first part argues for a strict egalitarian justice. Initially, this sounds fantastic. If I was king of the world, I would consider it, but I would first need to understand its meaning. What would be its guidelines and who would be responsible in overseeing this kind of policy? Would it be an international collective body? If so, then more than likely the same world powers would intercede and exploit it to serve their own political agenda. 

Splintered Identity: Franken-monster

“In Defense of Lost Causes,” by Slavoj Zizek, advocates the notion that developments in science have taken aim at not only understanding life, “but generating new forms of life that will surprise us [as well as] greater and stronger forms of life” that will eventually surpass us (435). The author also comments that there has become a disjunction between, what he calls, the first and second natures in scientific developments. The first-nature of organisms is confined to interpreting natural development whereby we can understand and utilize them for the benefit of humans. Second-nature involves the development of “natural monsters,” such as genetically enhanced or modified crops and other creations that may be problematic for humans to exercise control over. It seems the problem, as discussed by Heidegger, is the “interdependency of man and nature: by reducing man to just another natural object whose properties can be manipulated, what we lose is not (only) humanity but nature itself” (435). It’s arguable as to how “nature” functions in this sentence, but I’m inclined to believe Heidegger might have intended the meaning to be an extension of humanity or the essence/ origins of human beings against other creatures.

                Frankenstein is quick to reveal the pitfalls of manipulating life or what we can assume was intended to surpass human life. I’ve always been perplexed by the notion that Frankenstein was instantly horrified by a creation he painfully endeavored to create. Upon creating the monster, Frankenstein remarks, “How can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe, or how delineate the wretch whom with such infinite pains and care I had endeavored to form?” (35). Here, we notice a transgression or what I’ll call the true realization of a perversion of nature. It appears the doctor has, in a sense, violated his own conceptions of human life. He is no longer bound to the benign practice of manipulation or experimentation; he has become a creator.  At some point unbeknownst to him, he crossed the line between first and second natures.  There are probably dozens of avenues to explain this classic scene, but it seems this moment is emblematic of two irreconcilable realities; Frankenstein has become both the master of human creation but he has also created something far beyond his control. Frankenstein is stricken with fear and awe, but as Zizek points out, “one can break out of fear not through a desperate search for safety, but, on the contrary, by pushing on to the end, by accepting the nullity we are afraid to lose” (433). Such an idea is paradoxical, yet it is this same contradiction of sorts that fuels the rest of the novel. After expounding his horror, the doctor runs out of the room to collect himself, and by then the monster has already managed to allude him. Frankenstein seems to pursue the monster out of a desire to understand another side of himself, but a side that both repulses and consumes him. Perhaps Frankenstein’s unquenchable anger to destroy the creature is both a reflection of his own discontent and an admission of his own frailty.

Žižek’s Follies

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.  With great respect to those whom adore Žižek, fear is necessary for mankind to embrace new philosophical systems or re-embrace old ones, whether that be religion or environmentalism.  The Church by and large is averse to embracing new ecologies because the existing nature of creation must be respected.  In other words, any sublimated “superstitions,” however outlandish, can be evaluated but ultimately must be sustained for the entire body of believers to feel included.  Žižek’s “unknown knowns” fall into this category: religion (and environmentalism) in Žižek’s narrow estimation is established as that accessible only to the most intellectually attuned but not those who hear the word, understand that they are saved, and unconsciously embellish their faith with various glittering trivialities.  These trivialities in the aggregate represent in Žižek’s mind a danger because where a “great” leader—Bush II or Leopold II—might have the imprimatur of the evangelical church and the Catholic Church, respectively, any foreign enterprise embarked upon to improve a country’s safety or privilege it economically is, indeed, systematically evil.

Žižek is unafraid to take on religion or the new religion, environmentalism.  Human beings are reactive, nay reactionary, by nature and the Lord understands it.  Negative motivation is necessary, for without a counter-joy, real joy would be taken for granted and counted as an exclusively human purview.  Real joy, however, comes from the Lord and must also be shared.  Isolationist Christianity, for example, is an oxymoron which fails the basic tenets of loving one’s neighbor.  If America were to shut its borders as did seventeenth century Japan, many countries the world over—including Canada—would suffer.  The economic benefit American provides is important along with missionaries various church organizations send all across the globe.  Am I digressing?

Do economics and religion still go hand in hand?  When we spread prosperity, are we also spreading the gospel?  Heavy-handedness like the Iraq War is wrong, yes, but is the world safer with Saddam gone?  I would like to think so for the sake of the lives lost.  Are the atrocities committed in the Congo Free State important that they be remembered such that they not be repeated?  The answer to this is also yes.  I don’t understand why the spread of prosperity means, for Žižek, that resources must be purposed equally for all peoples.  The arc of the Biblical narrative does not reflect this: some will have much, others not so much.  But in no way is this inhumane.  In Žižek’s world, terror would reinforce the State’s governing of egalitarian resource utilization.  So there would emerge a totalitarian state to replace our current set of nation-states all fighting for hegemony.  Hmm….

The beauty of Christianity is that there is the hope that we will get to a point where all will feel inclined to volunteer to help and love one’s neighbor.  But that is not violent reinforcement.  In fact, the negativity of Hell is not a reinforcement but a warning, a heeding.

From "Nihilism" to "Justice"

            The selection from Zizek's In Defense of Lost Causes is fascinating, insightful, frustrating, and surprising.  Above all, I found it intellectually exciting.  However, I want to explore the main outlines of his argument because I believe it has some problems, avoiding his interesting digresssions, like those on science, Christianity, and free will.  One of the main arguments that underlies his discussion is that "there are no background coordinates of our world" -- that is, there is no "Big Other" (God, Nature, or any creative, ordering principle) (445).  Reality is "a meaningless chaotic manifold" (444).  Nietzsche said much the same about reality, denying God and order, but ended up positing a kind of "Big Other" -- the will to power.  Zizek makes a similar move, denying one thing, on the one hand, and positing something else, rather obliquely, on the other.  The end of absolute nihilism can only be suicide or selfish hedonism.  As Yvor Winters said to Robinson Jeffers, if he really believed it was better to be a rock than a human being, he should kill himself.  Zizek turns out not to be an absolute nihilist.

            Throughout the selection, Zizek returns to various forms of "an anonymous Fate beyond social control" (459).  These include the process of capitalism, the development of science and technology, the destructive natural processes set in motion by human beings.  As Marx and Engels observed of capitalism, "All that is solid melts into thin air, all that is holy is profaned."  Science and technology (with genetic engineering, cloning, and nanotechnology) has shown that there is no natural order, no human nature, no Nature at all.  The study of evolution demonstrates that there is no evolution as a progressive development.  Rather, species have evolved because of "catastrophes" and "broken equilibria" (442) Any equilibrium is secondary; disequilibrium is primary. 

            The concern to prevent the runaway destructive natural processes from destroying the earth and the human race -- ecology -- Zizek identifies as "the predominant form of ideology of global capitalism" (439).  Although ecology purports to attempt to change humans' relationship to the earth, it is actually resistant to change and has "the anti-totalitarian post-political distrust of large collective acts" (440).  Thus, ecology is a false alternative which does not fundamentally challenge capitalist hegemony.  While dwelling on catastrophe, it hopes deep down that it will not really happen, and in this it is reinforced by our common sense, which is habituated to everyday reality and does not believe this reality can be disrupted (445). 

            Zizek, at moments, challenges these anonymous, seemingly uncontrollable processes.  He resists the absolute authority of science.  He discusses "the way science functions as ... an ideological institution" which provides certainty and stamps out or marginalizes "heretics" (446).  He expresses discomfort with tinkering with the human genome or attempting to create a synthetic cell.  Instead of deeming 90 percent of the human genome "junk DNA," he wonders if this "junk" is important and we just don't understand how life works  -- how "an 'infinite' (self-regulating) organic structure arises" (441).  He also balks at seeing the human being as completely empty and without agency, as a "blind circuit of neurons" (446). 

            Given such challenges, we might expect Zizek to offer some replacement "Big Other" or at least some principle for action.  And he does this in a rather sly way.  Zizek argues that the various forms of the "Big Other" stop us from acting in the face of possible destruction.  The Big Other as a "'reified' social system" or a natural process cannot be stopped because it has become an unconquerable reality -- an In-itself (453).  This reification of abstract processes comes about through prosopopoeia.  Through personification, the processes -- whether capitalist development, scientific progress, or natural processes -- become objective realities.  However, he makes sure to defend Hegel's "objective Spirit."  This Spirit is objective and real, independent of individuals, but it is not related to a "collective or spiritual super-Subject"(454).  There is no collective Subject beyond individual human beings.  But the objective spirit is related to individuals in so far as it is the "presupposition of their activity" (454). 

            His sly move occurs rather abruptly at the end of the chapter as a rationale for action. The ecological challenge should be met by reinventing and reviving what Zizek ironically calls the "'eternal Idea' of revolutionary-egalitarian Justice" and later "egalitarian terror" (460, 461).  Since there is no Big Other for Zizek, but rather a "meaningless chaotic manifold," he is not positing this Justice as an In-itself, a reality.  But, we can suppose, we should act as if this Justice existed, fully conscious that it is an invention.  Furthermore, if we act as "a people" with "large-scale collective decisions," are we not also reinventing the "collective or spiritual super-Subject"? (461, 454). Will this subject act with reference to a Hegelian "objective spirit"?  And most important for the implementation of his proposals, if the collective Subject and Justice are inventions, who will define them and, therefore, make the collective decisions?  The "terror" is presumably necessary, according to Zizek, in order to avert catastrophe and save human lives.  In the process of administering justice through terror, some people will have to receive "ruthless punishment" and perhaps die in order for the majority to be saved.  Is Zizek, then, promoting a kind of totalitarian utilitarianism?

A Braver New World?: Thoughts on Zizek's "Uneasiness in Nature"

“What we call Man's power over Nature turns out to be a power exercised by some men over other men with Nature as its instrument.” - C. S. Lewis, The Abolition of Man (1944).

“Men invent new ideals because they dare not attempt old ideals. They look forward with enthusiasm, because they are afraid to look back.” G. K. Chesterton, What's Wrong with the World? (1910).

No wonder Zizek is called the most dangerous philosopher today. He makes “egalitarian terror” sound like a water-downed version of totalitarianism combined with an improved version of democracy, when really, we shouldn't forget, that in order to be terrorized, someone or something has to do the terrifying- meaning they will be the ones presumably free from terror.

Zizek is interesting to read because he is difficult to pin down. That means that his Lacanian-Marxists views sometimes hook onto Chesterton's distributivist politics, but are released before they are latched onto his Catholicism. He carries the torch for Hegelian dialecticism to an extent, but is cautious about scientific progress, referring to it as an “ideological institution” that also needs to be checked (445). Because of these and other seemingly paradoxes, Zizek can be both a friend and enemy to a variety of worldviews. That being said, I find myself agreeing with him on some points, but largely disagreeing with him overall.

His problem, as I understood it, is finding a solution to the imbalance of scientific progress with the fallibility of our common sense, our will to believe against our notions of freedom and autonomy. In the realm of science, biogenetics has enabled scientists “with interventions into man's genetic inheritance, the domination over nature reverts into an act of taking-control-over-oneself” (435). But I'm not so sure about this. Isn't the case that someone always takes control of someone else? On a larger scale, a world-state, wouldn't this mean the power of one nation over another?

Zizek says the price we pay for curtailing science is the split between science and ethics. But this should be viewed as a good thing, for why should science be the only one to tell us about autonomy and freedom? Aristotle's magnanimous (great-souled) man is self-sufficient. Socrates proposes that we seek freedom in the city, even if the city will ultimately deny us both dialogue and life itself, for the unexamined life can profit nothing. In other words, science doesn't hold the keys to our ultimate notions of freedom and necessity. We need another Kant to critique the “scientism” of today.

Zizek shows how up-to-date science says it will soon create “a brain more powerful than a human brain.” And perhaps I am one of the ones whom Zizek blames for having my common sense interfere with scientific data, but I at least pose this question: For human intelligence to create an intelligence more intelligent than itself, wouldn't it have to be more intelligent than itself to begin with?

In terms of Zizek's critique that the Church's message of hope is defending life against death, it is here, that I find agreement and disagreement. Zizek should know (because of his admiration for a good ol' Chestertonian paradox) that the Church's message about life and death has been two-fold: It is the guardian of life and nature, because God created it and saw that it was good, and so has built hospitals, healed the sick and helped the poor, and blessed marriage, among other things. But it is also a religion that has its God, as its central image, dying a slowly death on the cross, has glorified martyrs and martyrdom, and entrusts its followers to bid all their cares to another world. Is then science the only one occupied with this so called death-drive?

As I am reaching my max word count, I'd like to skip over all the other points and questions of agreement and disagreement (Zizek neglects to mention for example that Darwin posited God as an alternative for the evolutionary process, regarding somethings he had difficulty explaining, such as the human eye). Zizek's solution to the problem of our ontology and scientific endeavors (and I think he goes beyond the ecological movement) is his egalitarian terror. Here is where philosophy, the wisdom of the past, “the democracy of the dead” (as Chesterton calls its), can offer an alternative. It is to replace Hegel's notion of “earth” with that old idea of “soul.” Today, the body has attributes that once belonged to the soul, and so is better understood as a mechanism, something that can be manipulated. This reduction of complex mental phenomena to mechanical models is what drives science to dissect and explain the human away. In the end, we may even find that it is no longer “man's control over nature,” but nature's control over man, as Zizek also mentions.