"Kitchen Criticism" - A Guide to Practical Matters in Poetry:Frost's "Mending Wall" and Playful Punctuation.

First, a little theory: Frost's principal contribution to prosody is his somewhat elusive idea of "the sound of sense." I won't go into it in detail--any serious Frost scholar has touched on it in some way, shape, or form already. Basically, it relates to the tension between speech and metre, and the creative possibilities for tone therefrom. Poetic metre is an imposition on speech in order to extract tones of voice for dramatic purposes. I might go into detail elsewhere to tidy up the rough edges of that brief explanation.

Regardless of my imprecision, there is one poetic prescription that follows from Frost's idea: we read a poem to the sentence, to the full stop, to get the full sense of the meaning. Tyler Hoffman, whom I will return to a few times, has a neat phrase for Frost's prosody in practice; he calls it "line-sentence counterpointing." I have always been taken with Frost's theory of the sound of sense--also called the theory of sentence-sounds (Frost couldn't make up his mind), hence Hoffman's useful coinage. 

So, we read the poem not to the line, but to the sentence. There's both a prosodic reason for this prescription, but also a conceptual one, and Frost manages to tease out a little play with both. Despite his claims, Frost most certainly relied, as most poets do, on punctuation to manage the pace of his poems, to manipulate the meaning, just as we see in "Stopping by Woods." He also had tremendous fun with the little dots and squiggles on the page; and it's to one such case I wish to briefly turn before I get too serious. 

*

In "Mending Wall," one of Frost's most famous poems, and for a time my favourite, Frost leaves what gamers today might be call an "Easter egg," a little reward for those who know where to find it. There's a lot to say about the poem, but I want to focus on this little Easter egg. The poem is forty-five lines long, unrhymed, written in iambic pentameter, Frost's preferred narrative form. "Mending Wall" is more lyrical, but it does tell a little story. Like "The Road Not Taken" there is a deception, or a trick, at the heart of the tale the speaker tells. More on that poem another time. The Easter egg comes in line 23: 

There where it is we do not need the wall

But you won't see it if I just quote the line. You need the lines surrounding it; in fact, you need a few sentences: 

Oh, just another kind of out-door game,

One on a side. It comes to little more:

There where it is we do not need the wall:

He is all pine and I am apple orchard.

My apple trees will never get across

And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.

Do you see it yet? There's a tone of gentle mocking in this excerpt, as there is throughout the poem; the speaker finds his neighbour somewhat simple, and makes fun of him, both to his neighbour's face and to us, the reader. 

But there's a little grammatical play being had here, too. Let's look at the middle sentence as a sentence to see: "it comes to little more: there where it is we do not need the wall: he is all pine and I am apple orchard." Surely you see it now: two colons in the one sentence--a very unusual arrangement. Not ungrammatical, but certainly unorthodox. There's no real need to use it in any circumstance. What does it mean? 

The middle most line of the poem, asserting the redundancy of the wall, is bookended by two colons:

: There where it is we do not need the wall: 

Do you get it? The colon makes the line look like a little wall! Specifically, a wall of stones shaped like "loaves and some so nearly balls" that the wall-menders must use "a spell" to keep them in place. 

Unconvinced? There's more. 

The two colons are grammatically unnecessary. They could be replaced by semicolons or full stops. But Frost used two colons instead. The grammar is important here. Colons signify a subordinate relationship. Under normal circumstances, the second half of a sentence with a colon in it is dependent on, or subordinated to, the first half. By contrast, a semicolon is used to divide two independent clauses, or sets of clauses, each with at least one independent clause. 

Two semicolons wouldn't look like loaves and balls of stone stacked on top of each other, but they would indicate parallel clauses. Instead, Frost uses a subordinating grammatical structure to produce an image of a parallel construct: a wall separating two neighbours. But what he is really pointing to is the dependent relationship between the two neighbours, specifically speaker dependent upon his neighbour. 

The speaker mocks his neighbour, about the pine cones and apples, about "elves," and about his (the neighbour's) overreliance on his father's saying, that "good fences make good neighbours." But who called to whom about mending the fence? This from the speaker (my italics):

I let my neighbour know beyond the hill;

And on a day we meet to walk the line 

And set the wall between us once again.

It is the speaker who lets his neighbour know about the wall. The line is slipped in there and overshadowed by the later joke-making. It's a similar misdirection to the more famous one in "The Road Not Taken." Why does the speaker let his neighbour know about the wall? To make fun of him? Perhaps. That's a question beyond our purposes here; nevertheless, we can say that the speaker is dependent on his neighbour, regardless of how he views his neighbour's dependence on his father's words of wisdom. There are, we might say, parallels of dependency in this poem, and Frost's subtle play with punctuation and grammar is just one layer of the meaning in this poem. 

* 

That'll do for now. Frost is a meticulous craftsman, right down to the logical implications that follow from carefully selected punctuation marks. This level of grammatical intrigue is common to all poets, but especially formalists I find. Where formal metre is employed, high standards of punctuation tend to be there managing the prosodic tension. In the next blog, I'll look at some more Frost, but I'll bring in some Aussie poets as well. In particular, I'll be looking at silence... 

"Kitchen Criticism" - A Guide to Practical Matters in Poetry:Introduction.

The term "Kitchen Criticism" comes from Clive James' most recent (and probably last) collection of poetry criticism and commentary, Poetry Notebooks: 2006-2014. He borrowed it from Samuel Johnson and the Elizabethans, and I am borrowing it from him (40-43). In short, the term relates to the reading and critiquing of the practical matters of poetry, mostly to do with metre. I'll broaden my use of the term to include grammatical and rhetorical matters, which I think is in keeping with the spirit of the term.

Put another way, I take kitchen criticism to mean looking at--nay, unpacking--the raw ingredients of a poem. How does this differ from regular old criticism? Well, we'll have to see. To me, it's about the basics of poetry, not the highfalutin stuff in, say, Robert Pinsky's The Situation of Poetry (which I read the other day, so thought I'd namedrop), or Seamus Heaney's The Redress of Poetry (haven't read yet, but about to--namedropping again). I'm reading a lot of criticism at the moment, so I'll take this opportunity to do a little myself, starting with the basics.

There's a lot of metaphysics when it comes to poetic criticism, lots of "isms" and other abstractions; I want to get back into the physics, the grammar and the rhetorical choices of poets, to see what they're up to, before we get to the higher order stuff. Perhaps kitchen criticism is just another term for grammatical criticism, or rhetorical criticism. At this point, I don't think it matters much; it's probably just best to dive in and get my hands dirty.

*

As a bit of a grammar nerd, I like to see how poets play with punctuation, to observe how it differs to the way we use it in prose, even of the academic sort. I'm a stickler on the semicolon, for instance; it does a certain thing in academic prose, and I want to see it do its job! But in poetry it's another matter. We aren't so much concerned with prose conventions in poetry as we are with sound and suggestion, with intonation and implication. Punctuation performs the role of a non-verbal signifier to the eye and to the voice; it influences both the pace of reading and the logical relations of lexical items, as in the famous debate surrounding the comma from this line from Frost:

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep.

Later changed to:

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

Much meaning rests upon the presence or absence of a comma. The change may play into the perennial debate surrounding the so-called Oxford comma: should you or shouldn't you? (Yes, you should.) The change does, most people seem to accept, change the meaning of the line, and slightly the pace of its reading. The pause after "dark" is dropped, and with it the grammatical listing structure: originally, the woods were lovely, and they were dark, and they were deep; now they are lovely because they are dark and deep. A parallel relationship between the three lexical items (lovely, dark, deep), now becomes one of subordination. This is no minor change; rather, it is a change of perception, like when we change the focus of a photograph by zooming in or out, things in the foreground now blurred or clarified from our fiddling with the lens. Poets, too, must adjust the aperture of their perception to get things how they want them, and a little fiddling with punctuation may achieve just that.

There's nothing controversial about that analysis. You'd be justified in being underwhelmed thus far. So we'll just take that as a bit of practice, or a warm up; but you get the idea.

Being a formalist, Frost is a wonderful subject for such kitchen criticism, and I'll spend a bit of time with him. (I also wrote my thesis on his poetics, so that helps.) I'll be looking at other poets as well, including Australian poets Gwen Harwood, Judith Wright, and Stephen Edgar, as well as American poets Theodore Roethke, Ted Kooser, and Weldon Kees. Those are just some names off the top of my head at the moment. I may even throw in some Henry Lawson. (I'm doing some research on Lawson, so this might be a good place to trial a bit of close reading.)

*

I'll leave it there for now, as I have a habit of over-writing these things. I'll pick up a bit more on punctuation and more in Frost and others next time, building towards a deeper consideration of the relationship between punctuation and sound. As I get more technical and more evasive in my criticism, I'll come back to "Stopping by Woods"; there's a lot to look at--and listen for--in this short and beautiful poem.

"Can Beauty Ever be Considered a Moral Trait?" Part Two: Naturalism and Repose

Introduction

Perceptions of the female body begin to change from the 15th century through to the 20th century; there is a greater emphasis on naturalistic representations, propositions and poses. From Giorgione to Rubens to Renoir, the female body takes a distinct turn away from the previously aesthetically contorted forms. Bodies have natural more diverse shapes and are more comfortably posed in this period. Neither mathematics nor morality dictates the form of the female nude during this time.

That is not to say, however, that feminine subjectivity has broken free of its constraints; the gaze of the artist and the connoisseur is still the male gaze, but there is, nevertheless, growing diversity in the representation of the female body. The growing diversity of representation of the female form over this period represents a diversity of taste. The weakened strictures of style open up a space for reflection and reform with regard to feminine subjectivity, in particular towards the end of this period in the 19th century when the first wave of feminism hits.

 Venus Awakens: The Nude in Repose

The reclining nude is a special feature of this period; prior to the 15th century the reclining nude - the nude in repose - is almost non-existent. This represents an important shift in the recognition of feminine subjectivity and the values that emerge from its increasing presence. Two of the earliest, and most famous, reclining nudes belong to Giorgione and Titian, both "Old Masters." There is some controversy about Giorgione's Sleeping Venus (it was completed posthumously by Titian), but this does not concern us here. For my tastes, Sleeping Venus is the best example of the reclining nude discussed here.

Venus lies outside, totally disrobed, and on the verge of sleep; she is at rest in a rural scene. Her relaxed demeanour blends well with the relaxed rural setting (a "sleepy" village); her white skin, however, contrasts with the earthy colours of the fields and the village. Her repose fits into the scene by standing out, so to speak. She is relaxed, the scene is relaxed (I say "sleepy" because there's not another soul around); yet her figure dominates in the foreground, everything else is blurred by the whiteness of her skin.

Her hand rests discretely on her pudendum, concealing her genitals; her breasts, however, are unashamedly bare. The use of the hand to conceal the genitals is a common theme for the reclining nude (as we will see). It can be argued that this motif represents a sense of modesty (arguably, imposed), or an enduring discomfort with female sexuality, perhaps both. Either way, it represents an "aesthetic seal" that encloses the feminine form. The vagina is a confusing mess to the gender whose genitals sit (somewhat) neatly outside the viscera.

The hand replaces the "fig leaf" in the functional role of the aesthetic seal from older represents (see the previous post in this thread), but it perpetuates the discomfort the male gaze has for female sexuality; or, rather, the functional dimensions of female sexuality. It has always been acceptable for the breasts to be exposed, but not the vagina. Although, the vulva and labia is obscured by neither hand nor fig leaf on the Venus of Willendorf. Her breasts are far more prominent, but she shows no shame or modesty about her sexual organs at all (she does, however, lack arms and a discernible face, which I've discussed in the previous post).

Titian's Venus of Urbino differs in certain significant aspects to Giorgione's. The aesthetic seal remains in place, but Venus is awake, and therefore not passive; moreover, she gazes back at the (presumably male) gazer.

Her belly is a little plump, but not distended; her breasts are small, but proportional. Her gaze, while directed at the viewer, is not intimidating. Her head is tilted in a bashful/flirtatious mode, engaging but not intimidating. It is, perhaps, the "ideal" female gaze, at least from the perspective of the male: her gaze is inviting, yet she remains "modest" with the appropriately placed hand. What is important, however, is that gaze meets gaze, even though it is the inviting female gaze meeting the (unrepresented, and therefore omnipotent) male gaze.

In Manet's Olympia, the gaze is different again, although the pose remains the same. Olympia's skin is far paler than the Venus of either Giorgione or Titian, her hand more firmly planted on her thigh, concealing her pudendum. Her body is more rigid, and her gaze less inviting. It is more obvious that Olympia is posing. Her engagement with the gaze with of the viewer is more forceful, or confrontational.

Not only is her pose more rigid, her body is leaner, more taut than the Venuses; her stomach is flatter, and her shoulders appear broader. She is also not as reclined as the other Venuses. Her pale white skin and lean physique, along with the presence of the African servant indicate a manicured lifestyle. It is also generally accepted that Olympia is a prostitute, based the symbolism in the painting (the orchid in her hair, for instance).

In terms of feminine subjectivity, there is mixed symbolism. The emergence of the reclining nude indicates a "relaxation" of sentiment toward female sexuality, but the prevalence of the hand, in place of the fig leaf, as the enforcing symbol of the aesthetic seal, implies an enduring discomfort with feminine sexuality. However, from Giorgione's Venus, to Titian's, to Manet's we can see a strengthening of the female gaze in response to the male viewer's gaze. The aesthetic seal remains, but the opening of the eyes - from sleep, to seduction, to confrontation, perhaps even daring - the returning of the gaze, is indicative of emerging feminine subjectivity.

Bathing Beauties: Naturalism and the Female Forms

 The reclining nude represents a growing acceptance of the female body; the viewer, the artist, and the connoisseur, however, remain almost exclusively male. Nevertheless, the gradual opening of the eyes of Venus is important in the evolution of the values that surround our aesthetic tastes. Manet's Olympia, in fact, was quite controversial, in part because of the confidence exhibited by the nude female subject, enforced particularly by her gaze.

A parallel tradition during the period under focus here, is the emphasis on more naturalistic bodies. Rubens and Pierre-Auguste Renoir are excellent examples here. The term "Rubenesque" has come to denote a shapely or plump female physique. Rubenesque has positive connotations, as such. Rubens is renowned for his depictions of voluptuous, naturalistic women. Take, for example, The Three Graces. The women in this painting display a shapeliness that is absent from previous works; none of the Venuses have bodies like these. The larger posteriors and slight puckering are more realistic than, say Olympia's manicured body, although the Graces do retain fair skin of Venuses.

There is no ideal proportion to the bodies of the Graces, but this is what makes their bodies more natural; very few women have the classical proportions of the Athena of Knidos. Their bodies, however, are not purposely distended in the way of the Gothic nude. There is a great sense of ease or comfort in the subjects of the painting; the woman are unashamedly naked, ostensibly conversing, there is also considerable physical contact between the three women.

Importantly, there is no obvious attempt to obscure the vulva; "obvious," that is, in terms of a clear symbolic "aesthetic seal." There is no fig leaf, and the hands of the women are occupied in contact with arms and shoulders of each other. While there is no clear sign of the labia majora, as in the Venus of Willendorf. the mons pubis, at least of the Grace on the left, is not totally obscured. The woman are comfortable in the nudity, and the gaze of the male is less uncomfortable with seeing it; there is no expectation of mathematics or morality in the scene.

Rubens' Angelica and the Hermit, presents a voluptuous nude in repose, with a beseeching male - the hermit - at her side. Angelica is voluptuous and looking rather comfortable. To be sure, she is still the object of the male gaze, the viewers' and the hermit's. Her voluptuous form is in stark contrast to the bodies of the Venuses, and especially Olympia. Her skin, however, remains white, in stark contrast to the dark, earthy colours that surround her.

The aesthetic seal also remains. A sliver of drapery conceals Angelica's vulva; the Hermit, however, appears to be slowly pulling it away. Angelica is asleep, and appears to be neither consenting nor resisting the act of the Hermit. There is certainly something symbolic about the scene: a clothed male, eyes wide-open, slowly unveiling the naked body of a female, eyes closed and unresponsive, neither inviting nor rejecting the actions of the male. His gaze is neither aggressive, nor "sleazy"; perhaps a symbol of (wishful) self-reflection on the part of the true audience: the male connoisseur. Angelica is unconscious, and any desire she has is equally unconscious - hence innocent, at least insofar as connoisseur is concerned. The imploring look of the hermit is somewhat belied by the actions of his hands, and this dichotomy, against the background of the unconscious sexuality of Angelica, is arguably emblematic of the way the male connoisseur interprets his own gaze.

Before moving on, I must confess: Pierre-Auguste Renoir is perhaps my favourite artist. As fond as I am of Titian and Rubens, Renoir outstrips them both in my opinion. With this intrusion of disclosure complete, we can quickly move on. Renoir's bathers are exquisite, capturing the sense of voluptuous naturalism that is often characterized by the term "Rubenesque." The Large Bathers is a scene of women with women, being women. There is a sense of voyeurism in this painting, and many of Renoir's other bathing scenes; having said that, however, this voyeurism offers an insight into the feminine subject that is otherwise denied in most previous representations.

These women, while obviously posed for the purposes of representation, are not constrained by their pose; they are conversing while they engage in their ablutions. There is a relaxed demeanour about the women. The dark-haired woman, leaning back on one hand, the other held up, one leg partially raised, a supple contortion in her body accentuated by the folds of skin on her flank beneath her right breast. This is not the usual nude in repose, although her vulva and vagina are still obscured; the problem of her awkward pose and what it might otherwise reveal is unsubtly solved by the dress draped between her thighs. Her bolder companion, arguably the focal point of the scene, is unabashed in revealing her breasts in the act of toweling herself off, implying that there are no men about, that this is purely a woman's space. The third companion reveals only her back and buttocks as she is still in the act of bathing, or is simply reveling in the water; she does not seem too urgent to act, as her right hand spoons the water, perhaps absentmindedly while she enjoys the conversation.

The scene is filled with dynamic action, women in different stages of bathing; women, amongst other women at least, are not static forms. While certain hallmarks of the male gaze and the aesthetic seal remain, scenes such as these, and there are others of equal quality, open a window onto the subjectivity of women. There is a sense of joy in the naked conversation, with three different personalities on display.

The women here are not merely naked or nude, but socially nude; the male gaze is ostensibly invited into a private scene, as a voyeur, but is subverted by the distance established by the fact the women are not gazing back; their gaze is not seductive; their gaze is not stern; their gaze is not passive. Their gaze is simply not returned to the voyeur. Their gaze belongs to each other, dynamically in social intercourse. While the male gaze is still privileged, it is passive; the male viewer is merely an observer.

*

In the next blog, I will move in the 20th century, and in particular the advent of photography. Photography has changed the way we view and represent the human body, the female body especially. Verisimilitude is now not only possible but instantaneous; ultimately photography will proliferate in the 20th century. The photograph, and eventually the Internet, will change the relationship between female body and the viewers' (still mostly male) gaze. While the photograph allowed for greater flexibility in the representation of the female body, as well as empowering women in viewing and disseminating their own images, it also has a darker side. This darker side will come into greater focus with the Internet, but this will be the topic of a subsequent blog. 

Free Speech and Self-Criticism

There's a difference between self-censorship and self-criticism, but a very fine one; indeed, the distinction vanishes if you don't know how to engage in the latter. Freedom of speech--or simply "freedom!"--is the focus of public debate in the last few days.

Some have argued that, in light of the Charlie Hebdo assassinations, the Racial Discrimination Act s18C should be utterly repealed, baldly stating that Charlie Hebdo could not be published in this country under its aegis.

Doubly wrong.

First, such a publication would be exempt under s18D as an artistic enterprise; second, Islam is not a race, so the RDA does not, in fact, apply. Such arguments are manipulative and self-serving.

Freedom of speech really only benefits those with access to the media (as in, the plural of medium, the means by which messages and information are conveyed). Not all media are equal. A blog on the internet read by dozens, maybe hundreds, is not a medium on par with, say, a newspaper or a television station (what we usually think of when we read the word media).

And arguments that "the new media" will supplant the old ignores the fact that a blogger just starting out does not have the same level of capital as a media mogul, who can transform his or her business model, however incrementally, in the new age of e-commerce. Money is still the medium of the age.

I do not support any change to s18C, not because it promotes censorship, self- or otherwise, but because it is one of the few, rather brittle planks promoting self-criticism. We need self-criticism in a world where any opinion can and is offered, quite unsolicited, on the Internet, a medium both liberating and tyrannising at once.

Self-criticism is not about second guessing yourself, but about adopting a posture towards your own ideas in a way a literary or social critic might towards his or her subject. Indeed, we are all critics--albeit critics of society and everything that crosses our path but that isn't actually us.

We can't be immune from critique, and the sooner we adopt ourselves as our primary subject, the sharper our perception will be, and the more insightful our opinions become.

*

Speech exists in a finite space; and although it is the cornerstone of a free democratic society, it is not all-pervasive in our private or--importantly--our public lives.

We must consider the economics of public discourse, where policy and institutional choices are formulated, in order to fully grasp the role of free speech.

Charlie Hebdo is a form of satire, offering humorous and provocative critiques of various aspects of the culture and society. One may question its tastefulness, and even how much it is actually satire, but in the Australian context it would be exempt as an artistic enterprise, so for all intents and purposes satire it is.

But Charlie Hebdo does not partake in that part of the public discourse relating to policy or institutional (governmental) choices. At best, it shines a light on something, mocking it, drawing attention to it (and to itself), establishing this or that subject of ridicule as a legitimate target for critique.

What satire does, to put it simplistically, is to erode the barriers that prevent certain things being discussed at all. Sadly, in the aftermath of the recent tragedy, they have achieved something close to their goal, with many news outlets emboldened to publish the forthcoming and very poignant front page of the latest issue (see below).

So, while satire rightly razes sacred idols, reducing them to the sediment of democratic argument, satire is not a part of the decision-making process at an institutional level. Almost always, it is on the outside looking in, a viral messenger of modern democracy.

Self-criticism is the necessary precursor of decision-making, and our decision-makers, our politicians, should be expert self-critics. (Perhaps I should leave you to giggle at this point.)

Here in Australia we can think of many politicians who lack, not so much an internal censor as an internal critic. It is one thing to have an opinion, but it is a higher order function to display reasoned judgement in one's policy offerings, which so many Australian senators ("elders," etymologically) seem to have trouble with.

Self-criticism ought to lead to wisdom, but really it starts with adhering to the adage "think before you speak." The internet rarely promotes thoughtfulness, and that is to the detriment of our public discourse.

It is detrimental because we have only a finite space for public discourse--discourse, quite separate from satire and other forms of expression, in which policy is propounded, decisions made.

Quite simply, we cannot deal with or act upon every issue or special interest. We are, in our capacity as advocates for our causes, competing for attention and resources, and were we to attempt to address all such causes in accordance with their merit (as presumed by their advocates) we would have no time for anything else.

Discourse, conceived as a portioning of time and space for public matters, is a finite resource; our attention spans are limited, as is our capacity and our goodwill for dealing with each other's shit.

The preciousness of this resource should not be underestimated. It has its own economy, which many seek to game or corrupt to their own ends. It is not a resource without structure. And its structure is, by and large, arbitrary, subject to the same analytics and arguments that take place within its space.

(In other words, public discourse and its economy is itself always a valid subject of debate. The height of free speech, I would argue, is the right to argue about what is and is not covered by free speech in the public discourse, for without this very meta-democratic right democracy cannot exist.)

*

Opponents of s18C, and the RDA more broadly, are well within their rights to call for its repeal--but their argument cannot reside on absolute grounds, for there are none in what is at bottom a self-referential exercise: we are arguing about the rules we want to apply to ourselves; the only absolute is that we will continue arguing amongst and about ourselves.

The need for structure in the public discourse, however, is persistent, for without it there is only violence as a means of settling issues. We must eschew violence totally; it allows for nothing but itself, in public or in private life.

Freedom of speech, then, must exist within a scaffold of public discourse, and self-criticism is a necessary precursor to it. s18C is a plank in that scaffold that promotes self-criticism. It is not onerous, unless your aims are disingenuous. At the very least, if your aim is disingenuous, it should give you pause for thought, an opportunity to reflect on your opinion and to understand its consequences, to think before you speak.

Without this scaffold, those who already have privileged access to various media (again, plural for medium), assert their own structure on the public discourse. And that, ultimately, is the point of the attack on the Racial Discrimination Act.

In a democracy, we are forever in a battle over institutional structures, looking for any advantage, and where possible to entrench it in those structures, shaping society for the next generation. We are, perhaps frustratingly, engaged in an open-ended and society-wide experiment in self-criticism.

*

Charlie Hebdo:

A Letter to a Senator

Dear Senator Muir, 

I write to you as a concerned university educator from Western Sydney. I have followed recent events in federal politics in relation to this government's education policies closely, and have decided for the first time in my life to write to a federal politician to express my concerns. I will write to others as well, because I believe this government has got its priorities wrong on education, especially those policies regarding the university sector. I teach at the University of Western Sydney, and I see firsthand the benefits of a tertiary education, teaching students who are the first in their families ever to go to university, teaching students from low socio-economic or non-English speaking backgrounds, and teaching mature age students who come to us to get a new start or new direction in life. 

UWS already does a fantastic job with students from backgrounds that, historically, have missed out on the university experience, and it concerns me gravely that the proposed reforms will further hamstring institutions like UWS to the benefit of those universities who already benefit greatly from their history and their financial and social reserves. Being only 25 years old, the intangible value of "prestige" is not something we have accumulated; what we do have is a dedicated workforce of highly trained and well-educated academics and teachers. I grew up in Western Sydney; I was educated here from primary school to my PhD; and I teach here. And I wish to go on teaching here, knowing the benefits that higher education can provide. I want to continue that tradition of making a difference through education for people who, for so long, were overlooked. 

I benefited from the current funding regime, and I still have my debt and am paying that off like millions of other graduates. The previous generation of graduates, the current generation of leaders, benefited from an even more generous system, and the hypocrisy of some statements I have seen has been unbearable. It is my firm belief that the reforms this government proposes will not only limit the capacity of UWS and similar institutions to change lives through education, but undo much of what has been gained for the people of Western Sydney since this university burst into life 25 years ago. You hold an important and powerful position in our parliament, one that many would be envious of, with a chance to make a difference in the lives of other Victorians, and indeed many other Australians. 

I am a member of no political party, and I never have been. I am a member of a union--the NTEU--because I believe in the power of collective action. We are strongest when we stand together against those forces that seek to divide us. And I believe the actions of this government seek to entrench division through reforms such as the deregulation of university fees, which can only result in the raising of fees or the reduction of resources for those who rely on education as a social investment in their future, not merely as an exclusive engine of privilege for social or political advancement. 

As a citizen who believes in the fair go, and who believes that the chief means of achieving the fair go is open and unfettered access to education, I urge you to reject these reforms, and to hold this government to account for the lack of transparency about their agenda in this regard before the previous election. If this government really believed it has a mandate for such drastic change, then it should take these policies to the next election, and let the people decide. 

Sincerely yours, 

Gavin William Smith

Dogmatism and Democracy

I haven't blogged in a while--I've been rather busy with other things, like earning money to live. It's hard out there in the real world! But I thought I would return to my blog just to articulate a few ideas, in part for myself, but also to share with others who might be struggling to articulate their own ideas at this moment in time. Right now, we are essentially at war with Islamic State (IS), or ISIS, or ISIL, or whatever they're called--"essentially," but not declared as such. There are real horrors being perpetrated by terrorists half a world away, and those horrors are being visited upon us here in Australia by proxy through the news and various propaganda exercises from our government and law enforcement agencies. I say "propaganda" because I am not entirely convinced that there isn't just a little manipulation going on behind the scenes to make political hay while the sun shines. But that's my conspiratorial cross to bear; others may bear it too, but in the absence of proof we cannot make definitive claims. Suspicions are one thing, but evidence is always required. Moving on.

What is most immediately troubling in the wake of recent events here at home is the rising tide of anger and xenophobia directed toward Australians of the Islamic faith. There are those that will seize upon any opportunity to tear at the wounds of division, especially if there are political gains to be made. Some people just want to watch the world burn, but there are others who want to set parts of it alight, preferring to rule in ashes than coexist in sunshine. The issue is not Islam, or any other religion. Truth be told, I am an atheist and would rather no religion exist; of course, we can imagine the world would turn out no different to the one we have now. For the issue that plagues us, and has always plagued us, and will always plague us, is dogmatism. But not simply dogmatism in the form of trenchant belief; I mean the mean the kind of dogmatism that helps us to rationalise an even more fundamental urge, what Nietzsche calls "the will to power."

A dogmatic belief of any religious or political persuasion merely provides a veneer of consistency for the raw and brutal urge to control others. In Western democracies we seek to mitigate this urge, this will, through the checks and balances of the democratic process; it can be ugly, but the alternative is infinitely worse. Even in a democracy there are those who hold dogmatic views, whether of a progressive or conservative incline. There is a little bit of fascism in all our natures, whether we care to admit it or not--we think we know better than others, and some of us are more willing to say so than most. In a democracy, we talk about political vision, a vision or a plan for the future; but this is just a watering down of the fascist impulse. Any politician with a vision must convince enough people, first people in his party then the general population, that his or her vision is the right one for the nation--at least until the next election. It doesn't always work out well, but that's why we have the next election. Democracy provides us with a non-violent corrective mechanism to counterbalance the naked ambition of those struck by the will to power, the urge to dominate others.

Dogmatists don't like democracy, but where it is widely supported by the public and adequate public institutions they will merely, silently begrudge its existence. Democracy requires us to forgive others the failings they may or may not have, to be permissive, and ultimately to leave others alone. You may disapprove of someone's lifestyle choices, but if those lifestyle choices are non-violent and non-restrictive (that is, not restricting of others in their lifestyle choices as a result of your lifestyle choices), then, in the words of a recently famous song, you need to "let it go." To be sure, in a democracy everyone is entitled to their opinion, to speak it freely and to be judged on it in turn. Most people will be quite happy to share their thoughts with you, even if you didn't ask for it; but then most people move on with their lives. Not so with dogmatists and enthusiastic fascists.

Let's be blunt: IS are enthusiastic fascists who justify their actions through dogma. In basic propositional terms: If the belief (the dogma) is correct, then any action in furtherance of that belief is also right. What is hidden, however, is the more fundamental premise: If I hold this belief, then it is right; and if it is right, then I am justified in taking any action in furtherance of the belief that I hold. What is at issue is not so much the belief but the believer and the way they use their beliefs to cover up their true intentions. A religious or political belief is merely a form of capital the possessor uses to both justify and further their position of power. That capital can be shared, which increases the durability of that capital. In democratic politics, that capital is consolidated in the form of political parties; in religion, it is used to consolidate a religious organisation, the Catholic church being the most obvious example. Such organisations equip their members with resources and moral and intellectual support. They also present their members with mechanisms for acquiring positions of power. Consider this: could any political leader rise to the position of Prime Minister or President without the support of party mechanisms? Consider also what a Prime Minister or President most do in order to gain the support of that party. We often talk of our political leaders in terms of their "ambition." Consider what this actually means! The ambition for what? Quite simply, it is the ambition to make decisions, ostensibly on behalf of others, but in reality to make decisions that affect, and in many cases control, the behaviour (the choices, decisions) of others.

Things are a little different with religious organisations--there is no democracy in a church or a mosque or a synagogue. Behaviour is controlled by religious edicts. The rise to power is also a little different, but the mechanisms are not too dissimilar to political parties. To rise to power in any religious organisation one must not simply reflect the beliefs of other members, but act as a cipher or spruiker of the faith. Like any leader, a religious leader must adopt the mantle of the "I" in the hidden premise. This, to my mind, is the Hobbesian truth underpinning the power structures that form in relation to human activities. Any power structure ultimately lends itself to the formation of a cult of personality, and this is as true in politics as it is in religion. Power flows from the top down, presenting a structure for vassals (those delegated power by the leader, the Leviathan), and a path for those vassals toward greater power.

In a democracy, such a power structure is supposed to be independent of the political parties vying for power; that power structure, perhaps most idealistically embodied by a constitution, is meant to at least protect the public against the excesses of Hobbesian-Nietzschean personal cultists. It can, of course, all go wrong. IS simply presents a new power structure, quite different from those established over the last 100 years, for personal cultists to carve out their own domain. The dogmatism of IS is merely a veneer, a shiny new thing to attract the young and impressionable who do not yet understand the urges that drive them to act in the ways they do. The young believe, not understanding that they privilege their beliefs above all others, not because their beliefs are right, but because they believe them; they are the "I" that believes and justifies the belief on behalf of their own will to power, their own ambitions.

We project the believing "I" on to a leader, because under that leader we might exercise our own rights to power. We see this in democracy, most vociferously after an election, when the victors crow over the carcass of their defeated enemies. The cult of personality is strongest then; the world is suddenly a better place, the future brighter--at least for the believers. For the others, those who believe differently, the nation is ruined and we must stop at nothing to rectify the obvious mistake. "Nothing," that is, except violence or anything undemocratic, or anything likely to cause lasting damage to the country. That's the important difference between a democratic and a dogmatic power structure. Life will never be perfect, no matter who's in charge; but at least we don't go to war every time we disagree about something. And we sure as hell don't decapitate fellow human beings for disagreeing with us.

An Educated Democracy

Education in Australia, and around the world more broadly, has been under political attack for some time. Education has been under attack from both the Left and Right in different ways, but both Progressives and Conservatives have seen education as either a tool or a threat and seek to use it or subvert it to their ideological ends. That's a much broader issues than I want to touch on here; there is a more immediate threat to education in Australia, specifically higher education. I did not support the purported "Gonski" reforms to primary and secondary education at the expense of tertiary or higher education. I won't go into much detail here; briefly put, Gonski, while providing for a national primary and secondary curriculum, was to be funded by cuts to the tertiary industry. This ignores the fact that the teachers of tomorrow are educated at university today; put simply, you can't improve education at one level by undermining it at another. I considered this change, under a left-leaning Labor government, a squib, a dud. 

The cuts to universities that were supposed to fund Gonski would be continued under the recently elected right-leaning Coalition government - but without the reforms. After much protest, however, the new conservative government backed down and agreed to implement the full reforms - for four years. This same government has also proposed reforms of its own: deregulation of the university sector, as well as increasing HECS, or student loan, repayments. The end result will be higher upfront costs for degrees, and higher backended costs (HECS repayments) for students. Such reforms are symptomatic of the Americanisation of the Australian economy and its culture. Such reforms will entrench class divisions, and lead to a society of endebted workers and citizens. That, of course, is the point. It's a part of the conservative grind. Entrench divisions and debt and it becomes harder to change society. In the same way that conservative governments always seek to undermine unionism and its membership, and thereby reducing the support base of its progressive opponents, conservative decision-making, such as curtailing the economic and intellectual mobility of the lower classes, is predicated on, well, preventing change! It's disappointing that the erstwhile defenders of education, the progresive Labor party, would play into the hands of its ostensible enemies. 

I must confess: I depend for my livelihood on university students. I teach. The deregulation of fees and the introduction of interest rates on HECS debt may impact on student enrolments, and thereby on my livelihood. But I work in this industry because I believe it has the greatest potential for social and economic change; no other industry, no other institutional service, can empower people to understand and change their world quite like higher education. The university trains the nation's best and brightest to be even better and brighter, to transform their lives and the life of the nation. I shudder at the further diminution of the national intellect by this government's cuts to peak research and science bodies (the CSIRO invented wifi, for goodness sake!); we don't even have a science minister! 

Perhaps the most egregious injury, but one most overlooked, is the loss of a critically literate electorate. Education isn't just about training workers, but educating citizens and voters to hold their government - and each other - to account. A educated electorate is a robust one, one that can change the political discourse. An honest politician is one forced consistently to answer intelligent and probing questions. The decisions politicians make on our behalf matter. We don't live in a pure economy; we live in a political economy. We have never lived, and will never live in a situation where the pure mechanism of the free market operates with impunity. Our economic success depends on our democratic diligence, and our diligence depends on our critical, higher, education. 

I am, perhaps, getting too vague and abstract. There is a specific point worth discussing here, and it's the role of money in education. The usual data rolled out in the debate around HECS debt is that up to six billion dollars will never be recovered. To focus on gross expenditure is problematic; it does not address the creation or increase of value as a legitimate outcome of such expenditure. To justify increasing or decreasing funding (for anything) requires addressing the effect on value such an increase or decrease would have. Value, at its most basic, means that an investment of funds produces a return of funds greater than the initial outlay; however, this implies that value is static: X amount invested returns X(x2), thus ends the transaction. Value can be enduring or ongoing. "Institutional value," value that is created by government investment, must necessarily be enduring because a government is not like a business, nor is it like a household for that matter. The government does not seek to make profit, but to produce the conditions whereby others can profit and pursue their own interests. 

Government expediture should seek, then, to create value, to produce an income capacity in relation to a specific program or object of investment, in excess of the initial outlay of money for that program. That is, ideally, the program will yield an economic benefit of greater comparable value than the raw dollars spent on it. This creation of value can be measured year by year, or in initial expense against the lifetime of value created. The six billion dollars of unrecoverable HECS debt is usually paired with the 24 billion dollars of total HECS debt, which means 25% of the debt is estimated not to be recovered. The calculation that concludes that this is somehow "lost debt" is fallacious because it ignores the broader calculation whereby the value created through the 24 billion dollars, in the form of highly trained teachers, doctors, engineers, administrators, business people, among many other disciplines, PLUS the 18 billion dollars that IS expected to be paid back is compared to the 6 billion dollars of unrecoverable debt. 

Put another way, we can ask the question: How much value is created in society and the in the economy by the activities of the aforementioned professionals? Then, to that value we can add the amount of money that will be paid back (approximately 18 billion dollars). Then, we can compare that combined number of institutional value + repaid debt - unrecoverable debt to determine the total amount of money, or rather value, that the HECS debt mechanism helps to put into society. The ratio of created value to lost debt, I am willing to bet, will be orders of magnitude in favour of the former. We can assume this on the basis that education is inherently value-adding. One of the central motivations for higher education is to "up-skill" to pursue a better, higher paying, job. If value is not created in this way, then we would need to rethink our entire educational philosopher. HECS is an investment, one that yields indirect value. But that's the thing: the government's success should mostly be measured indirectly. A government doesn't make a profit - it's not a business. Indirect value, institutional value, the regulatory and legislative mechanisms the government creates and oversees that produce value for its citizens to pursue fulfilling lives, personally, economically, and socially, is the true measure of any government.