[I was thinking I could do a monthly feature on my blog: “Ten Questions with Daniel Imburgia” (which would be my way of both exploiting Daniel for my own entertainment and edification and exposing more people to his brilliance) but, well, after sending him the first ten questions it took him a few months to respond.  Then, when he did respond, he seemed to have the impression that I was asking a number of different people these questions… so much for what I had planned — “Ever tried.  Ever failed…”  My thanks to Daniel for sharing these words.]

Dear DanO, well here are my thoughts on the questions you asked. First off I reckon we aught to review your original questions though:

(1) What is meaning?

(2) What is the significance of meaning?

(3) What is the relationship of meaning to ethics?

(4) What is the relationship of meaning to events?

(5) What is the relationship of meaning to actions?

(6) What is the relationship of meaning to desire?

(7) What is the relationship of meaning to language?

(8) What is the relationship of meaning to being?

(9) What is the relationship of one person’s sense of meaning to other senses of meaning?

 (10) What is the relationship of meaning to meaninglessness?

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I made this for my son since his new favourite game at the park is to use his head to plow furrows in the sand.  Yep, a regular chip of the ol’ block that one.

In many areas of education, the instructor needs to be able to demonstrate a certain degree of proficiency in practicing what is being taught.  Dentists teach at dental schools.  A person who practices First Aid, teaches First Aid to others.  A ticketed plumber teaches others how to be plumbers.  A painter teaches others to paint by (amongst other things) demonstrating certain techniques.
However, when one moves to some of the more theory-oriented areas of education, this same point does not always hold true.  Rather, one demonstrates one’s proficiency not in any point of action but by manipulating signs within some sort of game that does not seem to connect directly to one’s life and actions.  Pure mathematics or some realms of physics are probably some of the most obvious examples of this.
The catch here is that some theories are praxis-oriented or praxis-dependent.  That is to say, if one accepts a theory that is like this as “authoritative” or “right” or “true” in some sense, one is also required to act in a certain manner.  This is how one demonstrates both an acceptance and understanding of the theory.  The alternative is that either one rejects this kind of theory (as “non-authoritative” or “wrong” or “untrue”) or simply does not understand the theory (i.e. by claiming to accept it while failing to live into it).
One example of this would be New Testament studies, as performed by those who claim that the New Testament is an authority in their own lives.  It is hard to engage in any sort of sustained study of the New Testament without realizing that the life, actions, and commitments of Jesus — as exemplified particularly well in Phil 2.5-11 — are also to be the model for the life, actions, and commitments of any who wish to follow Jesus or who consider the New Testament to be a sacred text of some sort.  If one teaches Phil 2, or New Testament studies, but does not live into a trajectory of creative solidarity and resistance alongside of those who are being marginalized, oppressed, and deprived of life by the death-dealing Powers of our day, one demonstrates that one has not actually understood or accepted the teachings of the New Testament.  Therefore, to try and teach such material while pursuing tenure in an academic institution (which are clusters of wealth, status and power), or holding some prestigious posting within the institutional church (say, for example, writing a book like Jesus and the Victory of God, while living in the luxury afforded the Bishop of Durham). Is an exercise in missing the point (which also explains why N. T. Wright’s pastoral writings are constantly disappointing, and why he fails to follow through on the implications of his more scholarly works).  It would be like having a non-dentist teach dentistry — sure, they can probably tell you everything, memorize all the approaches and names, problems and solutions, but when it comes down to them showing you how to do a root canal on a patient sitting in a chair, they are going to fuck it up royally.  Which, of course, is part of the reason why we have so many Christian scholars or pastors who can say a lot of nice things about Christianity but don’t have the first clue about what it means to actually live as Christians — those who taught them never showed them.
The same, I think, can be said of those who teach and advocate on behalf of Marxist theory in the academy.  I got thinking about this again because of a recent post by Adam Kotsko at AUFS, and the ensuing comments (see here).  Adam concludes his brief post by asking: “Is the self-proclaimed Marxist with no relationship to the worker’s movement any different from someone who claims to have a Buddhist or Kabbalistic outlook on life without practicing Buddhism or Judaism in any serious way?”
I think this is an excellent question and one that academics don’t seem to like to ask themselves all that much (and they often like it even less when others ask them this question)… although they certainly do a pretty fine job of being appropriately critical about other contexts.  Personally, I do not feel that there is any significant difference between the (majority) of self-proclaimed Marxist academics and the so-called Western Buddhist (whom Zizek has often criticized).  Espousing Marxism is supporting a form of theory that has direct implications regarding a person’s lifestyle, trajectory, and the relationships that person chooses to enter into (or not).  I think Marxist anarchists have always understood this much better than Marxists in the academy (where the anarchists are notably absent… for good reason).  Essentially the Marxist professor who chooses to situate him- or herself within a context of privilege, status, and wealth,  wining and dining at conferences in St. Andrew’s, scouting a position at an Ivy League school, and trying to attain tenure is doing nothing different than the New Testament scholar who plays the same game — i.e. betraying the very position he or she claims to espouse.
That those rooted in the Academy tend to avoid any analysis of this is well reflected in the comments of Adam’s post.  Adam suggests that maybe this means the so-called Western Buddhist isn’t all that bad, another person suggests that the Marxist is better simply by being a Marxist (here the claim to be a Marxist is taken at face value), and another person essentially deploys the “stop splitting the Left” argument because, really, we’re all already oppressed enough by capitalism.
However, as always occurs in this kind of conversation, the argument was made by an additional person that detached Marxist professors are worthwhile in that they create a space where some students can be exposed to some important information, and then those students may go on to be “future activists” who go out and “tear things out.”  This is the classic “do as I say, not as I do” line, and I see professors deploy it all the time.  Of course, the proper response to this is to point out that any students who do go out and do engage in solidarity with the workers, or some marginalized population, or whomever else, do so despite the example set by the professor.
The professor is actually one of the largest barriers to the students going out to “tear things up” (just as children will almost always go on to do as their parents do, not as they say).  The professor is constantly showing the students that they can (supposedly) have their cake and eat it too — i.e. be considered “radicals” or even “Marxists” while continuing to deliberately pursue a life that perpetuates the status quo of capitalism and enjoying all the perks of those who embrace this lifestyle.  Further, lacking a decent practical model, the student who does go out and try to live out what he or she learns, may face serious difficulties (like a dental student who was only taught dental theory and never taught to develop the fine motor skills needed to drill teeth).  This often leads to rapid burn-out or disillusionment (“fuck this, I’m sticking to the books!”), not to mention the harm it can do to others.
Of course, this is not to say that “academia is just a black hole of total worthlessness” (as Adam thinks that some “activists” view the situation).  The knowledge gained in studying Marxism (and the various subjects engaged by Marxism) is very important, but it is important to point out that those who claim to be Marxists (or New Testament scholars), while remaining almost exclusively rooted within the Academy are betraying and working against the very thing for which they claim to act as advocates.  So, really, we need to rework Zizek’s well-known statement that “Christians and Marxists should be on the same side of the barricades.”  The truth is that, all to often, they already are on the same side of the barricades — the side of those who choose to barricade themselves from the poor and the oppressed.

My favourite blog commenter, Daniel Imburgia, and I have begun to exchange a series of questions that we will be posting on our blogs.  Daniel has submitted the first post, wherein he asks me about my experience and understanding of the Jewish concept of Tzim Tzum, over at his blog.  Here’s the link, for any who are interested.  I’ll be posting Daniel’s answers to my questions here in the near future (I mean, really, how long does it take to answer ten basic questions?).

A little while ago, I found myself in a situation where I raised a topic with somebody and, instead of responding to my complaint, the other party responded by ranting about a number of other issues, flipping things back around on me, and basically going on and on until I was too tired to bother saying anything else.  My response to this was: “Wow, forget that I said anything.  I’m sorry that I brought it up.”
Then I had this thought: maybe that’s basically what Job is saying in response to God’s rant.  He brings his complaint before God and God goes off about the creation of the world, sea monsters, and who knows what else.  Job might be thinking: “Wow, forget that I said anything.  I’m sorry that I brought it up.”  Or, in other words: “Behold, I am insignificant; what can I reply to you? I lay my hand on my mouth.”

[What follows is a Liturgy I created and which will be presented tomorrow at the church I have been attending since coming to Sarnia.  Five quick introductory points: first, in the story told by the second character (the so-called “Tax Collector”), I begin the story with an only very slightly modified letter taken from a website created by a feminist journalist, where men write about why they go to strip clubs.  Second, anybody is free to use this liturgy.  I can send the power point slides to anybody who requests them — which include the photo collections I put together, although you may want to sub out the pictures of people from my church and sub in pictures of people from yours.  Third, there are one or two lines that I edited at the request of the pastors in the story told by the first character (the so-called “Prostitute”).  I’ve gone back and included the lines I originally wrote here, because I like them better and think they are more honest.  However, if you use the liturgy, you are free to edit it.  Fourth, please note that the stories told are true, although each character is an amalgamation of people, and so I ask that they be treated respectfully.  Finally, I was working with a talented musician so all music was performed live.]
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One of the truisms at work within certain Conservative Christian circles is the assertion that things like socialism or even anarchy (properly understood) are fine and noble ideals but are far too “utopian” to be worth applying within a world defined by things like “sin” and “fallenness.”  I say that this functions as a truism, and not as any sort of rigourous argument, because it is the sort of thing that is simply repeated ad nauseum and never really critically engaged or sustained.  Additionally, the word “utopian” is always taken to be a bad word, with negative implications.  Christians who utilize this language against their (perceived) opponents are claiming to be more “realistic” than others.
Craig Carter’s recent post on socialism, pacifism and sex illustrates all of this rather well.  While writing about socialism, Carter asserts that “socialism is in many ways a high and noble ideal” but then goes on to write that:

Socialism is utopian in the sense that it is incompatible with the fact of original sin. The reason that socialism always leads to tyranny, poverty and atheism in this world is because of the tragic flaw in human nature – not because of the idea of socialism itself. As an idea, it is wonderful. But when implemented in a society of fallen sinners, it becomes horribly destructive.

There are a few responses one can make to this.  On the one hand, some Christian anarchists have responded to this line of thought by arguing that it is Conservative Christians who are hopelessly utopian and who fail to fully consider human fallenness and sin.  So, for example, some Christian anarchists would say that it is mad utopianism that leads some to think that you can give guns, pepper spray, handcuffs, zip batons and badges to some people — and then tell those same people that they are only accountable to their own internal chain of command — and expect those people to act in a manner that is just and compassionate.  Thus, these Christian anarchists would argue that they are opposed to armed police forces precisely because they take human sin and fallenness more seriously than others (of course, any who have had any sustained experience with the police quickly learn that the evidence favours the anarchist position; however, those who have learned this have usually been minorities and folks without any voice in the broader social discourse, which is why one of the benefits of the Occupy movement have been a partial revelation of the true nature and purpose of the police to the general public as members of the middle-class have now been on the receiving end of the force of the law).
On another hand, however, and this is more to the point regarding my opening sentences, Conservative Christians like Carter are extremely selective with the evidence — essentially they see what they want to see, regardless of what else is available to be seen — and so they term some things (like socialism) utopian but then advocate for other things that the evidence would suggest are equally utopian.  The evidence for this is in Carter’s earlier paragraph on sex.  He writes:

sex is easy. Natural reason tells us that sexual activity is oriented to and leads to procreation and that marriage naturally is the best context for procreation to occur… Sex belongs in marriage and every serious form of natural law or religious morality affirms this conclusion. But sex outside marriage is destructive of personal communion, social stability and children.

There are a few things worth observing here.  First, and somewhat tangentially, “natural reason” and “natural law,” within the context of this argument are not actually rooted in anything we observe in nature.  In nature, we see sexual activity that goes on in all sorts of ways outside of the realm of procreation — we see animals engaging in homosexual relationships and in masturbation (in the Toronto Zoo, not far from Carter, you can find examples of both in the penguin and monkey sections, respectively).  It’s also somewhat anomalous to talk about “marriage” within the context of the kind of relationships other animals enact.  Most species have multiple sexual partners, and a lot of animals seem to enjoy having sex just for the sake of having sex.  So, when Carter grounds his argument in “nature” he is really just grounding his argument in a few verses of the Bible that tell him what nature teaches us (regardless of what we actually observe in nature).
Second, and more to the point, it is easy to charge Carter with being utopian in his observations about sex and marriage.  What about people who are gay?  What about people who can’t have kids?  What about all the violence that has taken place within traditional family settings?  What about all the kids beaten and abandoned by their biological parents?  What about all the wives raped by their husbands?  What about all the affairs?  What about all the failed relationships?  This list of questions could be expanded almost endlessly, but the point is that Carter’s position on sex and marriage is at least as susceptible (of not more so) to the charge of utopianism as the picture he paints of socialism.  His view of sex and marriage could be called “a high and noble ideal” (if we’re being generous) but it surely is “incompatible with the fact of original sin” (to borrow Carter’s language).
The same argument, of course, could be made about the institution of the Church as it has manifested itself throughout history and up to the present day Roman Catholic Church, which Carter seems to particularly admire (despite the evidence that such things as systemic cover-ups of the sexual abuse of children extended all the way up to the level of the current Pope… just to pick one of a million possible examples).  Surely the institution of the Church could be described as a high and noble ideal but one that is far too utopian to play out well in practice…
Anyway, Carter’s approach is true of many of those who hold views like his.  The opposing position is said to be noble but too unrealistic, while the speaker’s position is held without any sort of compromise and without any recognition of the presence of the same criteria that were employed to attack the supposedly utopian position they just rejected.
Carter lays out no criteria as to why one view (his position on sex) should be treated as an ideal that is held realistically and without compromise, while another view (the socialist position) should be treated as an ideal that is too utopian and so should be compromised in the world of realpolitik.  All of this then suggests that Carter is simply making assertions about what he wants to believe and is not actually building any sort of sustained, consistent or compelling argument.  Of course, for any person with half a brain this is painfully obvious (which is why nobody usually bothers responding to Carter) but it bears mentioning for the sake of those kids who may mistake what Carter is saying for some sort of critical thinking.

The other day an old friend — a former roommate and colleague, and one of the few women in the world I would agree to walk with in the alleys of Vancouver’s downtown eastside at one in the morning — was visiting and discovered that I have a very small, “secret” facebook account.  She was appalled that I had not “friended” her online, and took this to mean that we were not actually “real” friends — despite the fact that we do things like actually hang-out in person, or talk about pretty much everything  from our sex lives to our most private struggles.  We’ve had each others’ backs a number of times in a number of situations (including two where people were at risk of dying imminently), but what really mattered to her was that we were not “friends” on facebook — i.e. within an online community wherein personal brand images relate to other personal brand images (i.e. Second Life by another name).
Sure gives substance to Baudrillard’s claims about the triumph of the simulacrum (or Zizek’s remarks about the rise of the internet as the rise of a new form of gnostic disembodiment).

• To say that something is fictional is not to say that it lacks any significance.  Money is a good example of a significant fiction.  The material employed in money — metal, paper, or most recently here in Canada, plastic — has no intrinsic value in relationship to other objects (as far as I can tell — actually, as far as I can tell, nothing has any intrinsic value in relationship to anything else).  So why can I trade two pieces of paper for one piece of wooden furniture?  Because we, as a group, choose to participate within a fictional understanding of that which we call “money.”  Money is like the Emperor–clothed in incomparably beautiful robes… as long as we all pretend that he is not naked.

• Other examples abound: nation-states are also fictions, as are all political boundaries, but our choice to participate in those fictions has serious ramifications for our actions.  As I stated before, we are all creating the world in which we live, and when we create a (fictional) world that has (fictional) components like money and nation-states, how we act in that (fictional) world will be significantly modified.

• Language, itself, may be the most powerful example of this.  Non-sense, or fiction, that we take as “sensible” or “real” based upon the games that we play with it.

• That said,  to  say that something is a game is not to say that it is not serious.  Some games, of course, are more serious than others–usually, what is risked in a game of Scrabble amongst friends is significantly different than what is risked in a game of Russian Roulette and the same spectrum of significance applies, I think, to the different language games we play as we construct meaning and value and, literally, make sense of our lives.  Yes, all language is game playing, yes, all definitions are tautologies as worked out within the rules of a particular game, but that game can be deathly serious.  Again, what matters is the way in which the game impacts one’s actions.

• Of course, all of this assumes that game-playing and participating in fictional constructions of the world do, in fact, impact a person’s actions.  This assumption could be reversed — we could argue that one’s beliefs and values are determined by one’s actions and not vice versa.  In fact, I believe that this is the case far more often than we care to think — we do what we want to do and only then find ways to narrate those actions so that we are good people within the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves and within the stories others tell about us.  However, I don’t think this has to be a strict either/or.  Actions (more often? ) influence beliefs; but beliefs (less often?) can influence actions.

• The other assumption operating here is that, while appearing to try to objectively describe things as they are, there is still a system of valorisation operating within this post.  That is to say, I believe that things are significant to the extent that they impact what we do and make our actions more or less life-giving or death-dealing.  I am not just saying that fictions impact action, nor am I saying that game-playing can have repercussions for a person’s lived existence, I am saying those things are significant because of that.