Hate Mail, Vol. 2, I Challenge You To a Dialectic

This post is the second in a series of (selected works of) the (jealousy-fueled?) hate mail I send to professional writers.  This, and all other hate mails, can be interpreted:  a) as a cathartic purging of un-sublimated sexual aggression  b) through the metaphor of a dog shitting on the bed.

Today's target is Simon Critchley, an author and a professor of Philosophy at the New School in New York.  Critchley is curating a series about philosophy in the NYTimes, and he starts things off with an essay titled "What is a Philosopher?"  Critchley, channeling Plato, opens by feinting in the direction of self-deprecation, joshing about the philosopher's reputation as a man who dawdles around with his head in the clouds, but this quickly proves to be false-modesty, as the essay pivots towards self-aggrandizement.  

According to Critchley, the philosopher is not one who dilly-dallies, the philosopher is one who deliberates, while the rest of the world bustles through their daily routines.  The philosopher isn't oblivious to society's conventions, the philosopher is immune from their restrictions; free in mind to notice and criticize the faults of anyone and anything.  This makes the philosopher a danger to the status quo, and this is why so many philosophers have been censored and executed throughout the course of history.   It appears that, in Critchley's mind, the philosopher is like Tupac.

. . .

Hello Simon Critchley,

I challenge you to a dialectic.  I posted the following in the comments thread of your NYTimes article, as well as on my own personal blog, http://trivialpursuittheblog.blogspot.com/.

Society doesn't censor or execute philosophers, instead it gives them unlimited time and freedom to speak their minds.  This is called tenure.

The catch is, no one actually listens to what they have to say, because no one (except other philosophers) actually cares.  There's little point in killing these people when you can stick them in a tower, tell them it's status and freedom, when in fact it's a quarantine of pariahs, where they'll trifle away, arguing only over things that can't be proven.

This is, of course, only one view, and you're free to challenge it, at your leisure.  Such is the nature of your existence.

Ken Drinkwater

. . .

Go to hell, Simon Critchley.

. . . 

Mon, May 17, 2010 at 7:06 AM

Update:  Simon Critchley Responds

thank you ken,

i wish i had the time i described in my article to answer in full, but i have to get my son breakfast.
but basically you're right.
best

simon

. . .

On the surface, he concedes the battlefield and lays down his weapon, admitting, not only that I'm right, but also announcing that he is not really a philosopher, because he doesn't have the time.  

Under the surface, he subtly shifts the war to a broader theatre, making stealthy, passive-aggressive personal attacks through insinuation.  By taking a polite tone and making a joke, he pretends to the high road.  By mentioning his son, he points out my evolutionary failure while understatedly asserting, "I have a life, you do not, and I don't deign to debate you".  The artfulness of this passive-aggression is that I can't prove any of it.

  

 Fuck you, Simon Critchley.