Been a while.
It is perfectly possible, then, that far from being an exclusively human attribute, the narrative faculty is the most animal of human abilities, a product of one of the traits that humans indisputably share with animals and many other beings—attachments to place. Perhaps, then, storytelling, far from setting humans apart from animals, is actually the most important residue of our formerly wild selves. This would explain why stories, above all, are quintessentially the domain of human imaginative life in which nonhumans had voices, and where nonhuman agency was fully recognized and even celebrated. To make this leap may be difficult in other, more prosaic domains of thought, but it was by no means a stretch in the world of storytelling, where anything is possible.
The shrinking of the possibilities of this domain, and the consequent erasure of nonhuman voices from “serious” literature, has played no small part in creating that blindness to other beings that is so marked a feature of official modernity. It follows, then, that if those nonhuman voices are to be restored to their proper place, then it must be, in the first instance, through the medium of stories.
Not sure if the title term is Mark Carrigan’s own coining, here—it seems to be a g**glewhack, so maybe it is?—but I like it enough that I’m stashing it here, with some of the material for context:
The phrase “do your research!” is ubiquitous across the subcultures which have popped up amidst platform capitalism’s epistemic chaos. […]
It often goes hand-in-hand with a feral empiricism in which the mediated constructed of reality is rejected out of hand in favour of what can be seen with one’s own eyes. This treats tweets, posts, memes and videos as something like sense data which are encountered without the gatekeeping of media elites, unless liberal big tech firms start to censor the free flow of this data because they don’t want people to know the truth!
Once you accept that, as Will Davies once put it, you’re not going to convert people who have gone flat earth who believe in QAnon by ‘hurling facts’ at them, it becomes crucial to understand these subcultures as cultural forms, which have emerged in the chaotic environment which social media platforms have generated…
What’s particularly interesting to me is the extent to which the circumstances of the pandemic have brought out what I feel to be a related form of feral empiricism in people whose job description should include a double rejection of it. Seeing academics from philosophy-of-science and STS backgrounds trotting out rather more wordy versions of “follow the science!”—as if there were a single, static and settled science to follow—has made for a few deeply difficult conversations, which I have for the most part totally avoided having.
Now, this is different thing to the feral empiricism Carrigan’s pointing at here, certainly—but it’s surely related (and definitely subcultural, inasmuch as you may be willing to accept epistemic communities in academia as subcultures, which as a veteran of many subcultures prior to arriving in academia, seems to me an astonishingly easy thing to accept). I expect the relation comes from the shared experience of a desperate need for a simple explanation of (and guidance for a response to) a confusing and scary perpetually-evolving situation.
And when you add in the widespread fallback to what we might call a sort of vulgar interpretation of the information deficit model of science communications—which, to caricature more than a bit, boils down to “maybe they’re resisting because we’re not yet sufficiently hectoring and shaming their ignorance?”—well, I think there’s probably some sort of case to be made for the recourse to comforting articles of faith (secular or otherwise) in times of crisis.
But that opens another question: is this analysis just my own version of a comforting article of secular faith?
Eagleton on (Jameson on) Benjamin, and specifically on his Angelus Novus:
The angel can’t move because his wings have become entangled in a storm, and Jameson seems uncertain about what this storm represents. Benjamin actually tells us: it is the myth of perpetual progress. What stops the angel from waking the dead here and now, calling time on history and ushering in redemption, is the assurance that history needs no such transformation, since it will carry us into a glorious future through its own momentum. It is the colossal complacency known as historical determinism that betrays the need for change.
This is the perfect opportunity to re-post this gem from those fine 65daysofstatic lads: