thanks, guys

Good advice yesterday from a couple of the most positive-energy people I know…

a prominent literary scholar:

“This is the difficulty of becoming prominent and interesting in one’s field: you become the guy to go after, and so it doesn’t really matter what you say, minnows will swarm around you in order to try to score points. I saw [academic celebrity name withheld] negotiate this time and time again. Welcome to the big time.”

a prominent blogger:

“In a sense of course having to close down comments should be taken as a compliment, since it indicates the degree of success necessary to attract the mentally unwell/congenitally rude. I also think a lot of the opprobrium you attracted was due to two things: firstly you probably [have one of the largest profiles] out of all the people blogging, within this corner of continental philosophy certainly, which makes you a target (ie- they can’t access Badiou or Rancière, because they don’t blog, being ancient relics of ’68- but if they did imagine the crazies they would attract!). Secondly your genuine enthusiasm for philosophy and pride in your achievements (which is refreshing compared to a kind of put-on detachment, false-modesty and cynicism all too common). Keep fighting the good fight…”

A genuine question: how do you know when you’re dealing with a “minnow”? I think there’s a genuine answer to this question. The minnows are the ones that just nibble at everything you do and never offer much in return. These are the people, in other words, who think that saying “no” is automatically an act of great intellectual significance. But in the end, none of us are really judged by what we claim to refute. You have to take your stand on something, or else you’re really just trying to knock other people down a peg. And if you’re doing that all the time, then frankly, you’re spending too much time thinking about other people and not enough about the cosmic jam we’re all in.

Of the two people quoted above, I know one in person and the other only through e-mail. But both of them give me a similar feeling of health and well-being. Why? Because they are doing serious, important things, and it makes me want to do the same.

This is why it’s important to keep good company and avoid cancerous individuals. How do you define “cancerous individuals”? Easy: they’re the ones who are looking for alibis in advance for the failure they know is just around the corner. By contrast, the ones who give me a feeling of health and well-being are the ones who are doing good individual work, and by definition such work is always irreplaceable. That’s what seriousness means. (And only serious people can be entertaining, by the way.)

To give just one of many examples… In late November it was my good fortune to have dinner simultaneously with Peter Hallward and China Miéville. There you have two people who are far too busy doing things to waste time dishing out minnow-nibbles. I think my brain worked at double functionality for a week or more after that; nothing focuses the mind like spending time with productive people, just as nothing corrodes the mind like hanging out with cynics and wasters.

ADDENDUM ON THE SECOND COMMENT: This comment even makes a good point about pride in one’s achievements. Understated false modesty is generally praised, because it is implicitly contrasted with raving, boastful arrogance. But both options seem like bad ones. The former is perhaps less offensive in polite society, but it’s just as insincere as the other. The best attitude, I think, it to have a healthy sense of your achievements as well as your failings simultaneously. False modesty should not be replaced by ruthless boasts, but on occasion it can be replaced by fair statements of what you think you’ve honestly accomplished.

That’s why I basically find it refreshing when Badiou claims to have written a great book of philosophy to be studied for centuries, or when Eric McLuhan claims that he and his father came up with the most important intellectual discovery of at least the last couple of centuries. The reason I feel this way is because:

(a) they are taking a big gamble on these statements– the gamble of looking ridiculous. Better yet, the gamble helps all of us, because it let’s us know to take something very seriously, and even gives us the possible chance of an easy mock at their expense. It’s a surprisingly generous act on their part to make bold claims for the importance of their work.

(b) They have the money to back up the gamble. If some bratty 19-year-old claims to be better than Heidegger, that’s a lot more annoying than Badiou claiming to have written a book to be read throughout the centuries. And I think the reason for this is obvious– the 19-year-old in this case has nothing to lose with that claim. At worst, a handful of acquaintances might remember 10 years later that he was an insufferably cocky undergraduate. Badiou, by contrast, risks looking like a laughable fool to all future historians for making his claim, and I admire that highly risky “wager” on his part.

And finally… if “modesty” is your #1 concern (and usually one is concerned only to see that others observe it), then speculative philosophy is probably no better a career choice than particle physics or becoming a fighter pilot. In all such cases you are inherently claiming to have something important to say about matters of life and death for everyone, and humility is not the top job qualification for such professions.