Thursday, July 15, 2010

The Gunnell to My Head

We should begin by considering how such an endeavor will be of use, and likewise speculate how it may do no great harm. It is conceivable that the sense of helplessness that accompanies the inspired passions of many a student of sustainability might have sprung up similarly in the early days of social science. But helplessness teased, dear professors of reason and criticism, must not make hopeless the student. Accordingly, when an eager student seeks to design solutions, even and perhaps especially solutions based in theory, all the various impediments and personal cynicism of the professors at attention will likely flame as dry tinder awaiting just such a spark.

            In such a hostile setting all action becomes reactive, theory becomes meager analysis, and to this end Gunnell (1992) has inadvertently given good terms in first order and second order discourse.[1] Now, Gunnell’s scientific jargon seems especially inappropriate considering his thesis, and it amounts to little in the way of actual science (there is nothing Mendelian about his historical reconstruction, though I love the way the word feels on my tongue), but in this instance of first and second order discourse I find a window into the world of importance, into the world. Meaning, there is only first order. Thus, reflection, and the development of theory, however meta its make, is always an experience of the first order, since it is the first order alone which I believe describes a lived experience, even if that lived experience is reflecting on previous lived experience, or dreaming something never known previously (hopefully you still believe such a thing is possible).
From professional, semantic, and argumentative causes, I believe Gunnell would disagree with my claim for a first order world. His stubbornness, his refusal to let his structure of disciplinary thought dissolve into thought just as it arose in thought, is also that which colors his description of academia with the simple gray of institutional isolation. Thus, he takes two hundred pages to nearly dismiss future consideration of “bringing knowledge to bear on power,” to make a space for his pure theory of “authentic concerns.” Thus he chooses not to see the deeply political and social act of education. Nor does he recognize the actual tears and heartbreak and controversy that accompany equally the devoted student and the devoted teacher. With the selfsame insensitivity that allows him to dismiss the diaspora of émigré intellectuals during the devastation of Hitler, he erases from within the academic halls all its controversial, contradictory, and deeply human immersion in the lived experience of relationships between students and teachers. I can almost feel the heavy desk between himself and his classroom.
And so, finally, in longwinded fashion I return to the matter at hand: of what use is my proposed project? I say theorists both in creative theoretical engagement and immersed in the art of educating are deeply political beings, capable of hope and helping. These theorists, so few but enough whom I have encountered in my short life, even having trouble holding eye contact, even coffee stained and weary eyed, would never submit to such a base form of unprofessional careerism as those who would echo echoes for amplitude and not for harmony. Rachel Carson’s unique place in history will not cease to be the place of a whistle blower and challenger to the establishment. However, her deep political call is to education and investment in future generations, in recognition of their gifts and the role of responsible citizens as stewards of these gifts – with great joy.      


[1] Gunnell, J. G. 1993. The Descent of Political Theory: The Genealogy of an American Vocation. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

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