Friday, April 19, 2013

In Defense of Critique

I teach Religious Ethics.  This week, we are discussing terrorism - a topic that my father noted is, among other things, timely.  Today, specifically, we are reading a section of Talal Asad's Suicide Bombing.  As this book is highly critical of state power and socio-political distinctions, I felt the need to preface our classroom discussion with a defense of the practice of social criticism while many are relying on state power for personal safety.  Here is a portion of what I'll share with the class:


It’s days like these where critics get themselves in trouble because criticism of state power is often seen – or, better, portrayed – as treasonous, overly/unduly suspicious, unhelpful, and possibly dangerous.  These are charges meant to silence critique.

At times when we are told that our security – or at least the security of those who we are somehow identified with – is threatened, a corresponding idea that order and safety needs to be restored tends to occupy a prominent discursive space.  Before moving to Asad’s critique of terrorism and motives, it is worth noting what he states at the very beginning of his book:

“A brief warning against a possible misreading of this book: I do not plead that terrorist atrocities may sometimes be morally justified.  I am simply impressed by the fact that modern states are able to destroy and disrupt life more easily and on a much grander scale than ever before and that terrorists cannot reach this capability.  I am also struck by the ingenuity with which so many politicians, public intellectuals, and journalists provide moral justifications for killing and demeaning other human beings.” Talal Asad Suicide Bombing page 4

What Asad offers is not to be read as a treasonous apologetic for terrorism – it is a shift of emphasis, a re-focusing of the discourse from “who’s right and who’s wrong and how can those who are right stop those who are wrong” to “who gets to make these decisions and how? What structures are in place that divvy up the space of violence to justify some while demonizing others?  How is this done?”

Before we get to Asad’s analysis of Walzer’s “emergency ethics” I’ll briefly note two things I watched on the news this morning that deserve a different line of questioning: first, I watched appeals to the internal states of the bomber motive, states of mind, and radicalization (described as “self-radicalization,” “internal radicalization now being externally manifested,” “older brother controlling the mind of younger brother,” “religious ideas motivating action,” and “state-sponsored ideological training” – if not verbatim, all this came from CNN’s coverage).  Second, I watched what I can only describe as a small army of armored tanks, trucks, and soldiers carrying large guns.  These men were all in search of the violent perpetrator of violence.  Pause.

This is a distinction being drawn within what Asad refers to as a “sphere of violence.”  There is good violence.  There is bad violence.  The difference, however, tends to rely on appeals to the internal state of individuals.  We therefore have a vaguely defined social space where violence is occurring and an undefinable internal status that determines who is in the right and who is in the wrong.  The trick is that someone has to be in a very specific socio-political position of power to make these declarations – a position which denies such position to others.  I don’t like to analyze events as they are going on – too much is unknown, there is chaos, and there is an overreliance on speculation so I’m not going to specifically address what’s going on…now in Boston.

I will note that the definition of terrorism implies an altruistic non-terrorist.  Terrorism, however, is a very, very shifty term and yet its boundaries are tightly maintained.  I’m not interested in figuring out guilty and not-guilty or assigning blame.  I’m interested in the ideological work being done when indefinable spaces are somehow defined and loosely defined terms are rigidly fixed.  The social world – of which we are students – doesn’t have some kind of innate, inherent order.  I’m interested in the process by which this disorder is presented as order.  This isn’t treason.  It’s critique.



Thoughts are with all those within various spheres of violence.

Thanks for reading.

2 comments:

  1. Well put Tommy. I've been thinking a lot about these things this week as well (and actually also wrote a blog post about it http://cwgardner.blogspot.com/2013/04/boston-bicycles-and-blame.html).

    One of those things is how, as students of the social world, are we to deploy our analytic tools in the public sphere? I like your focus here. But is there a point at which we can say "your claim to the power to define terrorism (or any other contested category) is illegitimate"? How do we make the jump from scholar to social critic? Or is there a jump to that needs to be made? I feel somewhat torn. Staying in the armchair lends us the credibility of the expert, but simultaneously paralyzes us. Taking to the streets might actually change a thing or two, but now we are partisans, and can be ignored as such.

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  2. I like/am depressed by the image of the armchair-bound expert, I picture the old guy sitting by a fire reading a book to a camera at the start of a movie. I'm also reminded of the image of scholar as sports analyst that came up during symposium - know a lot about what's going on, figuring out why a certain play didn't work, knowing the rules of the game, etc.

    I know sportscasters make a big deal out of some things, show some clips over and over again, issue judgments than can sometimes impact the game. Maybe can think about college basketball a couple weeks ago when mike rice got fired by rutgers for conduct that was shown almost constantly on ESPNs morning news cycle. There's some separation there, but there's also a certain amount of publicity maybe where the analyst/scholar is separate but involved? Not sure, but definitely something that occupies a good chunk of my recreational thinking re:ethics...

    I don't consider myself a creator or enforcer of moral norms, until I wonder what happens when a student cheats on a paper, skips class, or uses profanity in a paper. I then, through various modes of reward/punishment, seek to enforce modes of ethical conduct making me both scholar and data. Certainly a strange place to be, but a place worth thinking about/theorizing...to borrow the disease metaphor from your piece, what good is a diagnosis without a prescription? Or do some diagnoses imply prescriptions?

    I've been thinking about this a lot in terms of display and celebration of state power, legitimized/de-legitimized violence, increased panic/uncertainty/danger and increased triumph/certainty/safety/dependence...not really fully formulated thoughts at the moment, but that's where my mind's going.

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