by John Ellis
I’m currently reading – working through – Frederic Jameson’s A Singular Modernity. Jameson is probably best known as a Marxist literary critic, but his work crosses multiple avenues, notably political theory and cultural/societal criticism. I’ve been exposed to Jameson via various books by other authors, articles, and lectures[1], but A Singular Modernity is the first book of his I’ve read. And it’s turned out to be one of the most exhilarating, thought-provoking, and challenging books I’ve read of late. It’s the type of book that demands a level of concentration that ultimately results in multiple readings of each chapter combined with a near constant getting up to consult the sources that he cites (or Googling, if I don’t have the source at hand). This morning I’ve been rereading chapter 4 in which he challenges the Cartesian subject/object split that characterizes modernity.[2] On page 42 (Verso Books reprinted 2012) he poses the challenge that “perhaps it would be better to say that [Descartes’ neutral subject] is, in reality as well as in its concept, a construction.” This thought reflects – with some slight massaging – thoughts and concerns I had in elementary school.
As a young boy, I became bothered by the notion of an “I.” While being acutely aware of my own consciousness – my own existence as a subject in relation to objects – I began to question the validity of my own consciousness. By that, I mean that I theorized that if I was an “I,” so were my sisters, and brother, and friends, and every person my “I” came in contact with. At least that was my assumption because, similar to Descartes, the notion of a pure skepticism that reduced everyone and everything around me to illusions or simply unknowable was untenable. Except I struggled getting around my perceived “unknowability” of others.
For his part, Descartes believed that he succeeded in shearing himself of all influences, reaching total objectivity, an objectivity that resulted in the division of the subject and object. As I’ve already stated that division bothered me. I assumed – believed – that other people were also an “I” – referred to as the cogito in Cartesian philosophy. However, that pushed me into a form of solipsism that was isolating. How could I know someone else if I didn’t have access to their “I.” I mean, I knew that I had perceptions of the data around me but how could I know that the person in front of me was experiencing that data in the same ways I was? Did they view/perceive me in the ways I believed I existed – who I was – and, if not, how could I possibly get them to see me? And vice versa; how could I know that I was really seeing them/understanding them? Instead of counting sheep, it was pondering these types of questions as a kid that would eventually lead me to fall asleep at night.
Skipping over decades of my perspectival evolution, I love how the feminist scholar Toril Moi describes Wittgenstein’s response to Cartesianism, specifically the hegemony of logical positivism in philosophy. She writes, explaining Wittgenstein, “All utterances are situated: to understand an utterance is to understand how it is used in a specific situation, for a particular purpose.”[3]
Wittgenstein’s famous language games speak to – demands, in fact – relationships. There is no such thing as a view from nowhere; objectivity, the way it’s defined in analytic philosophy and so-called conservative thought, is not possible. There is no Cartesian cogito, no “I.” Instead, I exist in relationship with my sisters, brother, and everyone and everything I encounter (including God), meaning that all those relationships change who I am. Ergo, there is no divide between the subject and object because, as Heidegger made clear, the so-called objects play a role in creating the subject. Think of it this way: my “being,” whatever “being” is, as a father exists in relationship with my children.[4] And my “being” as a father is shaped/created by the differences between my three kids.[5]
When we found out that we were expecting our late-life surprise of a third, unplanned child, we encouraged our first two to communicate honestly with us about their feelings regarding their new sibling even if those feelings are negative. In that vein, I asked my oldest if she thought it might ever bother her that her sister gets a better father than her. By that, and I talked about this with her, my existence as a father to my oldest was created by a variety of relationships that either no longer existed after or had changed during the intervening seventeen years between her birth and the birth of her little sister. I am a different father to my currently two and half year old than I was when her big sister was the same age. I am a better father, in fact. My point is that I don’t, nor have I ever, existed as a father in an objective, neutral place. When I identify as a father, what I mean by father is relative to the ever-changing relationships in my life. The “objects,” if you will, my children, for example, play a causative role in what it means for me to be (subject) a father. The same can be said about my “being” as a son, brother, husband, friend, enemy, actor, teacher, pastor, Uber driver, and whatever else I add to the phrase, “I am fill-in-the-blank.”
This metaphysic directly challenges the claim that knowledge is neutral. The belief that knowledge is neutral is dependent on Descartes’ cogito. With the very first sentence in Discourse on Method, Descartes insisted, “Good sense is, of all things among men, the most equally distributed.”[6] In the next few sentences, Descartes defends that claim and adds that differences in opinion aren’t a refutation. He believed, hence his book, that an objective methodology needed to be developed that allows humans to use this universal reason in the pursuit of truth. So, he stripped himself of all influences and prejudices and locked himself away to doubt everything until he found objective truth. That objective truth (starting point), of course, is the famous and highly consequential “I think therefore I am.” Out of that was born foundationalism and logical positivism, and the belief that knowledge is neutral and objectivity is possible. As I’ve argued above, knowledge is not neutral. Another way to put that is that truth is relative.
I was recently handed a copy of Dr. Dan McClellan’s latest book The Bible Says So: What We Get Right (and Wrong) About Scripture’s Most Controversial Issues. Dr. McClellan is most famous for his podcast Data Over Dogma. During the short time I had the book, I was only able to read the introduction and first chapter. I read enough, though. Normally, I don’t reference, much less comment, on books I haven’t fully read and digested. Readers of this blog can attest to the fact that I religiously cite my sources. This time, though, my argument(s) isn’t really about the content of the book; it’s in response to the epistemological stance taken by the author, Dan McClellan. As I told the individual who loaned me the book when he asked me about it,[7] the phrase “data over dogma” is just a fancier way of saying that facts don’t care about your feelings. Considering that no one is capable of divorcing their feelings from facts, The Bible Says So exhibits the same epistemological hubris as its counterpart in Christian apologetics. And it steers, possibly unwittingly, which is odd if true, into a full-throated Cartesianism.[8]
In the introduction, Dr. McClellan assures the reader that he’s done the hard work of removing his prejudices and biases. Related, people who use the word “deconstructed” as a qualifier for their Christianity believe that this is deconstruction. Ironically, that’s exactly what Derrida was critiquing. His famous phrase “there is nothing outside the text” challenges this Cartesian notion that we can find a neutral standpoint from which to pursue truth, that we can rid ourself of prejudices and biases. As Jameson puts it in his pushback on Descartes’ attempt to empty himself of influences that led to his development of the cogito[9], and circling back to the quote I used above, “perhaps it would be better to say that it is, in reality as well as in its concept, a construction.”
Descartes didn’t maneuver himself to a position of neutrality/objectivity. And neither does/can Dr. McClellan (or anyone, for that matter). Dr. McClellan simply created another ideologically laden text (a relationship, if you will) from which to examine the Bible. There is nothing outside the text; there is only more text – more interpretation. He didn’t deconstruct anything; he constructed another text just as ideologically informed as the dogma he professes to drown in data.
According to Heidegger, the telos for a Cartesian construction is certainty. Another irony in conversations about deconstructing Christianity is the desire for certainty by both sides. I once had a deconstructing Christian sigh to me that he feared he would never find true Christianity. Surprising him, I replied, “That’s one of your problems. You expect a clarity – certainty – that can’t exist this side of the eschaton. You’re making the same epistemological error that the conservative Christianity you’ve been hurt by and are opposed to makes.” This is one of the reasons why profitable conversations are rarely had across the “deconstructed” divide. They’re saying the same thing, just with different ethics, and don’t realize it. Both sides believe that that their “I” is able to construct true Christianity.
I have no doubt that articles and books are being written, if they haven’t already, that contain coherent, cogent, and compelling arguments that refutes the data in The Bible Says So. Compelling, that is, to those whose relationship with the Bible is further confirmed by the arguments/refutations in those articles and books. Likewise, “deconstructed” Christians will dismiss the data in those articles and books as prejudiced by dogma without ever noticing the beam obscuring their own vision. It’s all a vicious cycle of talking past each other.[10] And this is what’s meant by truth is relative.
It’s not that truth doesn’t exist[11], it’s that our relationship with truth is mediated by our position. There can be no such thing as data over dogma because dogma (ideology) is always present in our position. The belief that knowledge is neutral and that a universal reason exists is an epistemological Tower of Babel.
[1] Besides allowing me to watch sports shows I wouldn’t have access to otherwise, I’ve found YouTube’s value lies mainly in providing a platform to watch academic lectures on topics I’m studying.
[2] It’s important here, I think, to point out for the sake of larger arguments that modernity and modernism aren’t necessarily the same thing. Jameson is skeptical that modernism is even a thing, and he hasn’t touched on that division yet in the book, and so I’m not sure if he even sees a division. I mean, how can there be a division if the thing(s) don’t actually exist? Which is kinda the point in his use of Heidegger to take down Descartes’s subject/object split. I’m a little out of my depth here but wanted to make this point without committing myself to going down these dense, opaque avenues in the main body of the article.
[3] Toril Moi, “Nothing Is Hidden: From Confusion to Clarity; or, Wittgenstein on Critique” Critique and Postcritique ed. Elizabeth S. Anker and Rita Felski (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2017), 39.
[4] I initially wrote “my ‘being’ as father only exists in relation to my children.” While rereading, I was struck that “only” is incorrect. My “being” as a father includes my relationship with everything else as well, but I think that all those other things are probably mediated via my relationships with my kids as a set and as three individual units within that set. I’ll need to think more about this.
[5] Another important avenue that deserves exploring – excavating, ha, ha – is Derrida’s “differance” (notice the spelling) at this point. Critiquing the Saussurian sign, Derrida argues that the differences between signs is contained within the signs, differance, as he terms it. According to this, and to risk oversimplifying, the differences in my relationship with each of my children are contained in my relationship with each child. I think I agree with Derrida.
[6] Rene Descartes, Discourse on Method trans. John Veitch (the translation is in the public domain, and my copy was published by Canva.com), 1.
[7] I was hoping he would forget to ask me. I’d rather hide behind my keyboard, for two main reasons: 1. While talking my thoughts run faster than my mouth can speak. Writing helps me organize my thoughts. 2. Over the last couple of years, I’ve learned that I’m not very good with people. I’m better off with just my books and keyboard.
[8] Based on the little I’ve interacted with his writings and beliefs, I suspect that McClellan would bristle at my accusation that he’s a Cartesian. If he’s not, he should stop acting like one.
[9] Cogito = “I think.” The thinking I of consciousness that has (can have) a neutral stance towards reality.
[10] I’m not interested in the refutations of McClellan’s book by Christian apologetics. A little fideism would be helpful for people on both sides of the debate. I suggest beginning with Fear and Trembling by Kierkegaard.
[11] I read a lot of books and articles by so-called postmodernists, poststructuralists, and adherents of critical theory and not a single one of them believe or claim that truth doesn’t exist. They believe and claim (as I do I) that our relationship with truth is not neutral. Where I differ from most of them is their belief that this doesn’t have to create divisions in society. I believe that Genesis 3 and 11 are true and that humanity is in a state of conflict and crisis and will remain so until Jesus comes back. I am currently fascinated by the work of the Catholic nihilist Gianni Vattimo, a philosopher and political theorist. His book A Farewell to Truth speaks to things I’ve asked and thought over the last few years. Again, though, his solution, so to speak, is misguided and unworkable I believe. My article on this blog titled “Untitled” was originally going to be titled “Christian Nihilism.” I was scared and changed it to “Untitled.” You can read that article by clicking here. There, I’ve done it; I’ve come out as a Christian nihilist, although I’m not sure it exists yet. I have to invent it, I think. Which may be what I’ve been working towards this last decade (and my entire life). … FWIW: I reread “Untitled” this morning before linking to it in this footnote. It’s long and meandering, but it’s one of the best things I’ve ever written.
Practically Known Theology 