A Critique of Pure Subjectivity

There is a fundamental reason I don’t like vilifying the objectification of people. In order to understand the world in terms of abstract systems, we can’t do without a minimal gesture of objectification. For example, if poor people are not objects, then it trivially follows that either they have freely chosen to starve or evil lizard people are freely choosing to oppress them. Why not? People are subjects, not objects. What is happening to them without external interference are their own free choices. If, despite the absence of interference, starvation is occurring without anyone desiring such an outcome, then surely we must be objects interacting in the world.

This outlook leads to a Tragedy of the Commons.

The other danger here an uncritical objectification of people. If people are simply objects to be manipulated, then what is wrong with a totalitarian dystopia? The whole thing is just an object that is incapable of being imbued with subjective meaning.

This outlook leads to tragedies like Stalinism.

My proposed solution is that systems thinking is only possible on a foundation of abstract iconicity. Instead of subjectifying or objectifying people, we must imagine the world in the form of a mathematical grid like in a video game. People are neither subjects nor material objects but icons occupying positions in the grid. How the grid evolves over time is dictated by laws of the material system it models. The middle region where the abstract model magically “represents” material reality corresponds to a territory of true ambiguity that is best explored using the tool of literature.

This approach underlies any attempt to identify the abstract relations delineating social systems.

In practice, if we are told to think of people as pure subjects, many of us will accuse you of trying to involuntarily induct us into a monastic order. On the other hand, if you say that people should be free to choose their own icons on the world grid, that is just neighborly regard, not asceticism. The shape of their icon has nothing to do with the factual truths that the model entails.

In contrast, the “common sense” solution is to systematically think things without saying them. I feel that is dishonest. How can you trust me when I’m routinely thinking things about you but not saying them just because I think they will offend you? Under those conditions, who knows if I’m the person you think I am? That move is okay within reason, but if it’s being proposed as a basis for social interaction, then we should at least be on the lookout for better alternatives.

Direct Evaluation of Implications in Boolean Algebra [PDF]

“Is there a regular pattern governing the simplification of nested implications in Boolean Algebra?” That’s a train of thought I typed up as a LaTeX paper back in August:

I’d be very interested to know where to find published results like these, especially if they cover the special cases I omitted.

Doubts

Santanu loved the mountains. Though he would never have admitted it, the sight of mist climbing a hillside offered an innocent substitute for his own failed aspirations. He worked a dead end job he didn’t believe in. But one day, it paid off being yelled at by his boss and even being called in for unpaid overtime. He had scraped together enough money to visit the mountains his soul longed for.

Santanu was about to get off the train and catch a bus when a stranger entered his compartment.

“Where are you going?” smiled the cabman.

“To the mountains,” Santanu replied.

“My dear sir,” the cabman beamed, “It is obvious you have never made this journey before. Your bus will only reach the foothills of Karakoram in the evening. All connecting routes to the heights of Mount Xanadu leave by afternoon. I would advise you to stay overnight at a hotel, but I’m afraid the day after is the feast of the great Saint Ignatius. No bus driver would dare sacrilege his sacred rites.”

“My plans are ruined then!” said Santanu, bursting into tears, “I have to be back at work by Monday!”

“Don’t be put out. As it happens, I am a cab driver. I would gladly take you to Xanadu myself. For an extra fee, of course.”

And so the cabman entered his battered Toyota, and Santanu climbed in after him. The hours ticked by, and the little car kept climbing higher and higher into the mists.

The mist surrounded the cab in every direction, but through it, Santanu caught little glimpses of the scenery around him. On the right was a sheer cliff face covered with vegetation. Now and then, Santanu could make out the rounded leaves of banana trees flashing by. On his left was an open chasm. He could make out more mists deep beneath him, snaking along the valley below. Between the cliff and the chasm lay the road along which the cab sped, winding like a silver thread under the moonlight.

Every now and then, Santanu could make out hairpin turns emerging through the fog. Though they make his heart leap into his throat, the cabman deftly handled every turn. By and by, it began to rain. The rainwater washed off the mountainside and covered the road in a thick sludge. The road was full of potholes. The runoff filled them, making them twice as dangerous, but the cabman swerved around them with ease.

The sight made Santanu’s stomach turn in fear, but the cabman continued on without comment. He wasn’t the only one either. Santanu caught brief glimpses of other cars appearing and disappearing around him, seemingly plying the same route they were. He realized he hated the wildlands around him, and was glad of man’s power to overcome it.

Eventually the mists overhead cleared. Santanu saw what seemed like a multitude of people sculpting the stern face of the mountain and carrying away the treasures of their quarry. As they were passing by this great undertaking, the cabman’s phone rang. He answered it: “Yes, hello? Yes? Yes. No, tell you what. I picked this dude off the train. Yes? Yes. No, listen. I’m taking him on a direct ride to Mount Xanadu. Tell the boys to be ready. You will be waiting, won’t you? See you tonight. Bye.”

The cabman flashed his ever-present smile on Santanu. “We will definitely make it by tonight.”

If this was meant to reassure Santanu, it had the opposite effect. “This guy is one of those robber cabmen I keep hearing about on the news,” he was thinking and sweating profusely.

“Hello?” answered the cab driver again, “Yeah, a tourist. Xanadu. Right. Clueless. You better be waiting. Bye.”

He turned to Santanu again. “I run a cab business. Taking a passenger by myself is like old times, but I must coordinate with my team. Sorry about that.”

Santanu’s mind was no longer in the cab by this point. He was thinking, “Who is the bigger traitor, nature or humanity? Whoever wins, am I not done for? Perhaps it would be better for the cabbie to miss a turn than to meet my end at the hands of robbers.”

He began to suspiciously scan the roadside establishments that occasionally sped by. He soon saw one that had no sign out front, but was evidently a luxury establishment of some kind.

“This is obviously a gangster’s den,” thought Santanu, “How else do they make so much money without advertising services of any kind? I wonder if this is where he will pull up and stick a gun to my head.”

His fears proved unfounded, however, as they sped by without comment.

As the cab began climbing higher and higher passes, the quality of the establishments they were passing began to deteriorate. Soon they were passing houses with no electric lighting, only shadows huddled around a flickering candle flame.

“I’m an idiot!” thought Santanu, “Of course rich gangsters won’t come after small fry like me. It’s the impoverished hill tribes I have to watch out for.” Examining this throught for further defects, he eyed the huddled figures with mounting anxiety.

Once again, his terror proved fruitless as the car whizzed by without a second glance.

The cabbie’s phone buzzed. “Hello? Xanadu. Yes, the peak is the final destination. For the tourist, hah, hah! Don’t be late.” *click*

Santanu was positively shivering in his boots. If man and nature are both my enemy, let them fight!

Speeding through the mist, he spied a van with people packed in like sardines. The back door was open, and the passengers were practically hanging out.

“Say,” he told the cabbie, “did you notice that van next to us? Seeing them frightens me. The road is slick with mud. All they need is for one tyre to skid before one of them shoots out like a domino.”

“What a thing to say!” said the cabbie. He seemed to notice the sludge swirling over the smooth tarmac for the first time, and slowed down the cab.

A few minutes later, they were about to pass one of the numerous shrines that dotted the country, when the cabman pulled over. He passed over a folded note to the attendant, who handed back a fistful of spirit rice.

“Want some?” said the cabman, “For good luck.”

“You’re the one who needs luck,” said Santanu, “I’m only along for the ride.”

The cabman began maneuvering the slick mountain roads more carefully than before, occasionally munching the rice blessed by the shrine deity.

Santanu observed with satisfaction that, before long, the cabbie was spitting out the driver side window.

“Perfect!” he thought, “Spirit rice is notorious for being left out before the idols for long periods to obtain their spiritual blessing. There is always news of people getting sick from eating them, but you cannot reason them out of their superstitions.”

Soon enough, the cabbie pulled up next to the gaping chasm on the left. “Sorry,” he muttered, “I’m unwell. I’m stopping the car to save our lives.”

“Close your eyes,” said Santanu, “Soon it will all be better.”

Santanu was surprised at how quickly the cabman began snoring. Hearing that felt like manna from heaven. Counting his blessings, he left the car.

There was a church beside the road with a light on inside. He knocked. A little man in casuals opened the door.

“My cab driver is sick,” said Santanu, “Could you please help me call another cab to take him to the hospital?”

“Begone, plainsdweller!” the little man said.

“What did you call me?”

“For centuries your people have conquered and oppressed the hill tribes. But our time may come sooner than you think!” He grinned unpleasantly at Santanu and closed the door. He was visible through the open window, tinkering with a massive church organ.

“So much for Christian charity,” said Santanu. He set out on his own, avoiding the speeding tracks of humanity, shoving aside brambles and dispelling freezing mountain mists with his bare hands.

Populism is the Opposite of Democracy

In recent times, it has become fashionable to accuse anti-populists of being anti-democratic. I will argue that this position crumbles under scrutiny.

Argument: Democracy is obeying the will of the people.

This presupposes that the people have a consistent will, which is not the case: https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/economics/#CollRatiSociChoi As there is no collective will, democracy can only mean the empowerment of individual persons. This once again splits into two interpretations: 1. The libertarian vision endorses the empowerment of individuals to the point where they are enabled to disempower others. 2. The liberal vision endorses the empowerment of individuals only to the extent that they are not enabled to disempower others.

In the libertarian vision, there is no democratic collective as individuals directly exercize their powers without regard for the well-being of others. Therefore, only the liberal version is truly democratic.

Argument: Any argument against the will of the people erodes the foundations of democracy.

On the contrary, doing what the people appear to want isn’t necessarily democratic. For example, it may very well be that the people want to enact mob justice, but letting them have their way in lieu of due process is not democratic insofar as it disempowers the target of populist outrage. These populists are only one segment of the people, not “the people” as it excludes the target of their outrage.

Therefore, the foundations that lend legitimacy to democracy are themselves “non-democratic” in the populist sense. Democracy is not special this way. All positions are like this. For example, obeying a monarch who is trying to abolish the monarchy is not monarchical. A supporter of democracy who erodes these foundations in the name of democracy is twisting the language of democracy for personal gain.

Argument: It does not follow from Social Choice Theory that “the people” includes every member of society. It is possible that, in a given case, almost every member of society is coherently outraged against some target. Mob justice is democratic in that case.

Numbers are not everything when it comes to maintaining democratic institutions. For example, why are the people outraged? Is it possible that they are not in possession of all the facts? What if there’s a systematic skewing of their knowledge by the education system? Even if the people are outraged now, this outrage is an accidental, not essential, quality. Therefore, justice, argument and democratic institutions take precedence over popular opinion.

Argument: The people cannot be kept in check by so-called “democratic” institutions imposed on them from without. It is their pride that drives them to be free.

This is a common Romantic view. I propose a move towards Classicism.

It is true that the people themselves decide to be free, but the act of being free implies installing a censor over their actions. There is no absolute, unqualified freedom. It is by outlawing actions that lead to servitude that the people themselves enact their decision to be free. If they revoke this censorship by asserting unqualified freedom, they thereby slide into tyranny.

What is the nature of this censor? It is a legal act that outlaws oppression. If the people have chosen to be truly free, this includes outlawing oppressive practices within their own cultural tradition. It is here that freedom conflicts with pride. Assuming all cultural traditions contain oppressive practices, it is impossible for a people to express unqualified pride in their culture and be free at the same time.

Argument: Tradition is the source of strength. Undermining it weakens the people.

Not necessarily. Insofar as innovation is a source of strength, and innovation can only be fostered in a free environment, this form of strength comes from not being yourself. Innovation is also very powerful in the long run.

Argument: Some nations are naturally smart and free, while others are dumb and servile. The market will naturally sort things out.

The evidence cited for this view is usually Japan. Bear in mind that Japan’s wealth came mainly from its colonial adventures, America investing loads of cash in it after WWII to stymie the neighboring USSR, etc. The market has never been meritocratic, and IQ is not as important as STEM majors think. The coastal Chinese are said to have a higher IQ than the Japanese in the populist propaganda screeds, but it appears very probable that they will regress on women’s emancipation with the retreat of Communism: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W-ono_TRx64 The rhetorical tricks will probably be the same ones we’ve heard a million times in other contexts: foreigners are attacking our oh-so-precious way of life, a Chinese China is a strong China, etc. This is especially likely if the global market screws them over, as it probably will. Unfortunately, Japanese nationalism seems to be the only non-Western populist movement to have at least partially figured out that in the long run, strength comes from being unlike yourself.

An Outline of Slavoj Zizek’s Theory on the Structure of Subjectivity as the Foundation of Leftism

Slovene philosopher Slavoj Zizek argues against mystical attempts to alter states of consciousness. Instead, he says we should “censor our dreams” and engage in emancipatory struggle as the only road to salvation. These comments might seem perplexing, but they are based on an underlying theory of what a subject is. This post is an attempt to extract the outlines of that theory from his latest book, Sex and the Failed Absolute, along with several clarifications drawn from his previous books, such as Less Than Nothing, Absolute Recoil and The Fragile Absolute.

Zizek agrees with the argumentative technique of Immanuel Kant’s transcendendental idealism. For example, he believes that the subject only emerges once a Rational Being imposes ideal forms onto the objects of bare perception. Drawing on psychoanalysis, he understands the imposition of these forms as the subject unconsciously repeating the scene of a traumatic encounter. However, at the outset, this is a “primordial repression” of an encounter that is imputed to be traumatic only in hindsight. The subject that emerges in this way has to be further “hystericized” before it can become the subject engaged in emancipatory struggle.

I have tentatively identified 8 stages in the emergence of this subject:

A. Subjectivation

Stage 1: Perception

Zizek begins from a state that some mystical sects call “enlightenment”. For Zizek, this is only a starting point, not a goal that is desirable to reach.

It is by examining this state that we should answer why there is something rather than nothing. Zizek asserts that it takes an effort to remain in the perception of blankness. There are thus two “voids”. At the very beginning, we have even let go of blankness and submerged the mind in disinterested perception. Consciousness floats freely between perception and non-perception without taking note of or special interest in anything.

(If you read Zizek, he will insert his nonsense lines about the Higg’s field here, but this is what he’s saying. He’s talking about quantum physics to counter equally silly counterarguments about equilibrium corresponding to the physical state of rest, which it’s not. Basically, these two things have nothing to do with each other. Zizek says he’s using physics as a “model” for psychology, such as hydraulic models of “pent up” desires in psychoanalysis. The work of past thinkers were also more metaphor-ridden than you might think.)

Stage 2: The Void

Consciousness eventually begins to take special note of non-perception as distinct from perception. The mind imposes a structure on the field of perception, a structure that it identifies with the patches of blankness that it has noticed. This is generalized to notions of “dimensions” or “axes” such as spacetime.

As the mind keeps repeating this gesture of imposing form, the freedom of floating is lost. In exchange, it gains the ability to locate atoms of perception at points or ranges in the universal schematic. Nevertheless, this subject has no sense of personal boundaries or desires.

In Lacanese, what is gained by imposing the form of the void is called the barred subject.

Stage 3: Substance

The mind attempts to draw boundaries separating within from without, boundaries of organic integrity, of subjective and objective, of important items from trash, and ultimately, of percepts from non-percepts.

Theorem: The attempt to represent Substance with perfect objectivity necessarily fails.

Proof: The mind tries to use its memory as a map to represent the territory of the field of perception. The problem is that the conscious being is one element in this field. If the mind tries to represent itself representing itself, it runs into an infinite regress like two mirrors facing each other. Even if the mind were a perfect cartographer, it must necessarily represent the point where it represents itself by a metalinguistic symbol that stands for something like “self-description goes here”. If it does not, it gets stuck in an infinite loop until it runs out of memory and returns an error. QED.

(Yes, this exact line of argumentation is drawn from one of Zizek’s books. Probably Less Than Nothing. Could be Absolute Recoil.)

This is the first point of necessary failure. Nevertheless, the mind ends up with an extensive map of something approximating the total Substance of the world. This stage corresponds to The One of Parmenides and Advaita Vedanta.

B. The Island of Stability

Stage 4: Formal Stigmata

The Substance contains at least one metalinguistic symbol somewhere in its representation. The symbol is metalinguistic in the sense that is, strictly speaking, meaningless in the language of representation. It occurs within the field of representation, but what it represents objectively is a limitation of the cartographer. This is the point where the distinction between object language and metalanguage is located in logic.

Because the cartographer does not understand what it understands about itself, it develops a blind spot regarding the constitution of the formal axes (dimensions, columns of a table, etc.) that it uses to represent facts about itself. Emanating from this central limitation, this fact distorts the entire field representing one’s relations to the objects of perception. That is the psychoanalytic unconscious.

A metalinguistic sign occurs in the field of representation, but it exists only to tell the subject what to do. For example, “self-description goes here” tells the subject to break out of the loop without prying further at that point. Similarly, (note the analogical jump from formalism to psychoanalysis) there is no organically meaningful givenness guiding sexual relationships either. Instead, what happens in Freudian transference is that certain qualities make us identify others with our parents or siblings and transfer our pre-existing feelings to affection onto them. These qualities function precisely as metalinguistic signs telling us what to desire regardless of the dictates of rational choice. These signs defy clear classification into subjective and objective, blurring the boundaries of Substance from within.

In this way, the very attempt to represent Substance introduces a cut whereby the subject perceives an apparently external object that is in reality a feature of the subject itself. Because the coordinates of self-knowledge remain a mystery, desire is invoked by the appearance of this object. In Lacanese, the object that tells the subject what to do is called the object small a, the unconscious object cause of desire. This is the general form of psychoanalytic trauma.

With the emergence of a traumatized unconscious, the process of subjectivation is complete. Consciousness is successfully destabilized and finds it can no longer contemplate perception with equanimity. Instead, it finds itself obeying its metalinguistic signs like an automaton. If this automatism noticed, the emotion it essentially evokes is surprise, not a flustered reassertion of control. By default, you don’t want to defy the object small a, the thing which defines the very coordinates of your desire. When you desire something, that is because you misperceive the object of your desire as the object small a. Often, it appears to be a shard of the glory you lost when you underwent your traumatic experience, whatever that was. Nevertheless, all this talk of lost glory is usually located strictly within the coordinates of the constitutive fantasy of your subjectivity, not in the facts of external reality. In Hegelese, the Word (the object cause of desire) has fallen into the World, hence thought grasps content not only as Substance but also as Subject.

With this, we reach an island of stability. Regressing from this point leads to desubjectivization and the loss of personhood, a bad thing according to Zizek. Stages beyond this point are shaky (“virtual”) and open to sudden regression by a process Zizek calls “radical desublimation”.

C. Hystericization

Stage 5: Dialectics

The traumatic details which the subject has worked so hard to repress return with a vengeance. The object small a, the object cause of desire, one percept among many, claims to be a second subject distinct from the mind. Demanding neighborly regard, it begins to pick at the basic parameters of the subject’s trauma, and it hurts. The subject could regress to Stage 5 by unilaterally denying the Questioner’s personhood. But if the subject chooses coexistence, then qualities of Stage 2, The Void return in association with one of the objects of perception, this second subject. Where the boundaries lie between the two is anyone’s guess.

Stage 6: Emancipation

An encrustation of ritual develops to regulate the interaction between the two subjects. This helps dull the pain of returning repressed material, but the rituals are badly designed and generate endless chaos all by themselves. In Lacanese, these terrible rituals are called the Sinthome. They are so bad that they threaten to obliterate the very coordinates of one’s subjectivity with frightening regularity. The subject sees stars from the anxiety of engaging with them. These attempts at interaction draw out repressed material from Stage 1, Perception. Not only does the Sinthome steamroll its way over subjective trauma with cruel impunity, but it appears to undermine the very coordinates by which its rituals may have been analyzed.

Analysis of the Sinthome appears in the form of a tunnel in the field of representation. When the primary subject enters it, it finds itself on the “other side” in the role of Questioner. This alternation of roles is Plato’s Cave, except that it’s twisted into itself like a Klein bottle. (If you object to these geometric metaphors, recall that they have been with us since the beginning of Western philosophy. Eg. The Greek notion that the circle is a “perfect” figure. That one made it all the way into Dante’s description of God.) On the inside, perspective assumes the role of the subjectivized world of the primary subject, distorted by unconscious coordinates and the object cause of desire. The same perspective is the pure, worldless subjectivity of the Questioner on the outside. These roles are more symmetrical than in Plato’s philosophy, though the latter is less “obscurantist”.

Although it doesn’t know it yet, the subject is already emancipated.

D. Pure Subjectivity

Stage 7: Multiplicity

The unrelenting awfulness of the Sinthome impels the subject to fantasize about a fundamentally reformed Sinthome. It imagines the second subject will appear to be understanding of its plight should society be regimented along the lines of race, class, religion, “culture”, and so on. Along these lines of analysis, the subject might as well pass under a portal under a sign reading “Here There Be Dragons”. At first, the subject appears to find objective grounds for his analysis, but the further he digs into it, the deeper the hoped-for utopia recedes until posterity remembers you only as the bloodthirsty dictator ruling over a murderous dystopia. These utopias are what dystopia necessarily looks like at the outset.

“If only we had an X state, we’d basically have peace,” is a fantasy of peace without having to love the monstrous Neighbor whose very existence gets under your skin. Since antagonism is the result of deep problems immanent to the very constitution of the subject, these statements are structurally fallacious. There is nothing you can do to prevent even your nearest Neighbor from digging at your trauma. Eg. Compare what’s called the “narcissism of small differences”. So give up. Lose the game. This is the second point of necessary failure.

E. Formalization (or, “So what do you propose?”)

Stage 8: The Transcendental Censor

Leaving behind the land of dreams that turn into nightmares, the subject regresses to Stage 6, Emancipation. We do the only thing we can do, censor our fantasies and brutally formalize where we stand. We continually fall back into lower stages of consciousness or find ourselves hurled headlong into Stage 7 by the circumstances, but we cut away these tendencies with the benevolent ruthlessness of a surgeon. We openly acknowledge the irreducibly monstrous dimension of the Neighbor and love him anyway because we must.

In other words, the only answer is dedicating oneself to the Cause of emancipation. With this final gesture, pride’s spine is finally shattered, but no God remains to guarantee humility’s reward.

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