Diasporic Counter-Education: The Need to Fertile-Eyes the Field more

Stud Philos Educ (2008) 27:369–374 DOI 10.1007/s11217-007-9079-6 Diasporic Counter-Education: The Need to Fertile-Eyes the Field Richard Kahn Published online: 23 November 2007 Ó Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2007 A review of Ilan Gur Ze’ev (ed) (2005). Critical theory and critical pedagogy today. Toward a new critical language in education. Haifa: Studies in Education (University of Haifa). Friends, the soil is poor, we must richly scatter seeds to produce even a modest harvest. –Novalis (quoted in O’Brien, 1995, p. 143) Ilan Gur-Ze’ev’s recent work towards the development of a diasporic counter-education emerges out of the ongoing crisis of critical pedagogy. On the one hand, critical pedagogy has never been more popular or secure of its professional standing. As an oppositional and transformative pedagogy initially developed from the margins, it has marched into the institutions, grabbed seats of power, and become important enough to be the source of global interest amongst scholars and activists. Yet, in many respects, critical pedagogy’s very success has led to a host of problems––including, to name a few: that a wide variety of pedagogical philosophies (of Left, Center, and Right persuasions) now self-professedly act under critical pedagogy’s aegis in ways that demand clarification, that critical pedagogy has become itself potentially de-historicized as a body of theory, and that a trend towards the de-radicalization of critical pedagogy into normalized forms of non-contemplative praxis and de-politicized, student-centered, constructivist curricular activities has emerged. Indeed, even one of the leading architects of critical pedagogy, Peter McLaren, has recently felt the need to question critical pedagogy’s present orientation and institutional mission. Adding the distinguishing signifier of ‘‘revolutionary’’ to his own critical pedagogy, McLaren surmises that as critical pedagogy has begun to find a greater home within the academy it has largely succumbed to faddish valorizations of ‘‘difference’’ or has otherwise retreated in the post-9/11 era to the safe curricular territory of promoting versions of state-and-class sponsored exercises in critical thinking, multiculturalism and pluralist relativism (McLaren 2005, pp. 32–33). R. Kahn (&) Educational Foundations and Research, University of North Dakota, 231 Centennial Drive, ED 305 Stop 7189, Grand Forks, ND 58202, USA e-mail: richard.kahn@und.edu 123 370 R. Kahn It is in this context that Gur-Ze’ev has intervened with his own messianic critical theory (steeped in the work of Walter Benjamin, Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer, along with the rhizomatic nomadism of Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari) that seeks to realize a new critical language in education that will restore its radically utopian function, as it reflects on the positive and negative dimensions of the critical pedagogy project. To this end, Gur-Ze’ev has staged an ongoing series of dialogues with philosophers of education that have sought to educe and reconstruct critical pedagogy’s historical foundations and its relationship to Frankfurt School critical theory, to understand its relevancy and/or failures to inform current pedagogical practices, and to map its varied internal philosophical agreements, disagreements and contradictions. This has so far culminated in Gur-Ze’ev’s edited collection, Critical Theory and Critical Pedagogy Today (2005), which to my mind represents one of the finest compilations of essays on the future of critical theory and pedagogy presently available. Here we have gone beyond simply another ‘‘reinvention’’ of the pedagogies of the oppressed towards achieving the kinds of critical dialogue and creative negations of self-evident knowledge and practice that are the very hallmarks of the critical theory tradition. As a result, the book demonstrates a kind of improvisational method of critique that transforms what currently passes for disagreements or contradictions in the discourse of critical pedagogy into potential strengths and collaborative avenues for self-transcendence in the field of education, with the book’s 18 contributions presenting a sort of mosaic of ideas, or fragments, of the larger project. What exactly that project ultimately is, or will be, perhaps cannot be concretely named, but provisional space for what it might be is gestured at in the book through its deep critique of critical pedagogy and its determinate negation of the ways in which the idea of a critical pedagogy has now become objectified throughout global society. In other words, I find Gur-Ze’ev helping us to keep the spirit within critical pedagogy alive by playing the trouble-maker who demands nothing less than the outing of the ways in which critical pedagogy has become a socially necessary illusion within contemporary educational circles and by his asking of us to refuse any and all attempts to administer critical pedagogy as if it were a 10-point plan of action, a set of programming codes, or a pocketful of recipes from an anarchist cookbook. But there is also something artistic, poetic, or even musical, to Gur-Ze’ev’s theoretical project too––one might think of Variations on a Theme of Critical Pedagogy. A crucial distinction for Gur-Ze’ev is between Positive and Negative Utopias, of which he argues for the latter. Positive Utopias, he maintains, are characterized by emancipatory projects that optimistically promise peace (or even its advancement) and which seek to build heteronomous organizational collectives around instrumentalizing ‘‘home returning’’ (Gur-Ze’ev 2005, p. 8) projects. Negative Utopias, on the other hand, are produced through autonomous acts of philosophical negativism that generate messianic openness to the conceptual abyss offered by the dialectical relation between life’s endless suffering and the rich possibilities it offers for inviting love, creativity, and ethical responses from people as part of its ceaseless process (p. 14). The Frankfurt School had an adage: we did not abandon the revolution, the revolution abandoned us. Amongst other things, this directly signified critical theory’s shock and disappointment over the failures of revolutionary praxis to universally take root after World War I and with the developments of new forms of fascism in the democratic world after World War II. Benjamin inveighed similarly against the social democratic politics and ideas of his day, which upheld the secularlized messianism of Marx’s classless society as a kind of ‘‘endless task’’ and ‘‘ideal’’ that corruptly projected the revolutionary age into a future time that was never to be realized. Instead, he claimed, ‘‘In reality there is not a 123 The Need to Fertile-Eyes the Field 371 single moment that does not carry with it its own revolutionary opportunity’’ (Benjamin in Lowenthal 1987, p. 232). As noted, Gur-Ze’ev’s emphasis on Negative Utopia appears to analogously revolve around the idea that while critical theory has not forsaken critical pedagogy, the opposite holds true. It is an important point when revealed in the proper historical perspective of the Frankfurt School’s hesitancy to endorse outright any form of institutionalized revolutionary movement. I believe it would be a mistake, however, if counter-education was in this way to become overly dogmatic and totalizing in its refusal to recognize any liberating potential to reformist forces or to be willing to meet actual teachers and students where they stand––which, at least in the United States, is rarely in the solitary place of uncompromising genius that existential figures like Benjamin and Adorno often inhabited. Confronted by an American educational system that is increasingly geared towards the bureaucracy of the megamachine, as schools are integrated into the surveillance society and more and more directed by the fascistic corporate-state, a minority of individuals of all ages have turned to critical pedagogy for direction and faith in dark times. Without a doubt, ¨ their perspectives can be limited, naıve, and their desire for transformative strategies can even play into the hands of reactionary policies––as regards the latter, one need look no further than the contemporary crisis faced by US Educational Foundations departments, which are being rapidly disbanded and re-tooled as ‘‘practice-oriented’’ curricular and instructional theorists are outmoding philosophers of education whose work is deemed ‘‘too abstract’’ to be of any clear use to professional school teachers. But leftist educators and students also represent a crack in the armor of the system and, as critical pedagogy has long maintained, thereby may provide a crucial leverage point in the struggle against the most odious attempts to socially plan the human spirit now underway. There is a sort of ‘‘objective ambiguity’’ (Marcuse 1964, p. 225) at work, then, in which the adherents of critical pedagogy often fail to recognize or produce the rich variety of radical alternatives that are immediately present to them because these alternatives are ideologically, normatively, or otherwise blocked from achieving their full realization in their service to society. Thus, perhaps there is something ultimately tragic about attempting to organize conscientization with those teachers and students who seek progressive change in their schools and communities, as––philosophically speaking––their success may in fact be more doomed then critical pedagogy can afford to let them know. But until the historical moment arises in which the ideological and normative shackles that contaminate critical pedagogy’s mission are shattered both inside and outside of education proper, critical pedagogy and its variants can at least propound a type of noble lie which need not be rejected outright as either insincere or anti-democratic. This is so because, in its apocaˆ), lyptic function (apokalupto critical pedagogy can help to seed the development of a wider philosophical negativity in its practitioners by helping them to cultivate disgust for the status-quo sterility of cultural spectacle and the politics of uncaring apathy. This is a vital activity when, to evoke the agricultural metaphor that is at the heart of all education, the soil is poor and the crops are not overly abundant. My own work is in developing an ecopedagogy (Kahn 2006, 2007a, b), which is related both to critical theory and critical pedagogy in its utilization of the theoretical insights of figures such as Herbert Marcuse, Paulo Freire, and Ivan Illich, as it seeks to deliberate on the relationship between pedagogy and how domination is produced through the manufacture and preservation of dichotomous concepts such as nature and culture, on the one hand, and human and non-human, on the other. Just as Gur-Ze’ev’s counter-education announces itself as an ethical response to the normalization of critical pedagogy, ecopedagogy similarly militates against mainstream educational practices for their failure 123 372 R. Kahn ¨ (in both form and content) to respond to how they contribute to our zoocidal planetary ecological crisis, and it likewise demands the ruthless critique of environmental education, education for sustainable development, humane education, transformative education, ecojustice education and other pedagogical platforms that similarly hope to produce ecological knowledge. In this manner, critical pedagogy itself deserves to be held equally accountable and Gur-Ze’ev (2005) is undoubtedly correct when he writes: Until today, Critical Pedagogy almost completely disregarded not just the cosmopolitc aspects of ecological ethics in terms of threats to present and future life conditions of all humanity. It disregarded the fundamental philosophical and existential challenges of subject-object relations, in which ‘‘nature’’ is not conceived as a standing reserve either for mere human consumption or as a potential source of dangers, threats, and risks (p. 23). This is reminiscent of C. A. Bowers’s (2003) critique of critical pedagogy in which he concludes that it has not only been blind to the cultural and political issues of ecological crisis but that it has thus developed as a type of theory which unconsciously replicates the domination of nature in its conceptual toolkit such that it cannot now effectively add ‘‘the environment’’ to the list of items that it feels are worthy of struggling over and for which it stands. While I am not as ready as Bowers to reject critical pedagogy in toto for the reasons mentioned and feel that getting critical pedagogy to put ecological crisis firmly on the agenda can be an important sign that a paradigm shift within its discourse is meaningfully underway, a healthy skepticism towards a potential ‘‘environmental turn’’ in critical pedagogy is warranted. Notably, Freire (2004) wrote in his final book, ‘‘Ecology has gained tremendous importance at the end of this century. It must be present in any educational practice of a radical, critical, and liberating nature’’ (p. 47). Yet, while such a statement diplomatically articulates the Freirean concern for ecological issues in the 21st century, it falls far short of a rich explanation of why Freire remained previously silent on these matters, especially when he had friends and influences such as Ivan Illich, Herbert Marcuse, and Erich Fromm who did not. Further, while Freire’s final pedagogical reflections espoused a sort of ecohumanism that conceived of the need to dialectically overcome the objectification of nonhuman nature, one also finds therein that Freire continued to conceptualize humanization as an ontological vocation that stands in hard opposition to the state of ‘‘mere’’ animality (i.e., the non-human).1 This foundational dualism between the ‘‘human’’ and the ‘‘animal’’ in Freire’s work needs to serve as the basis of a critique of critical pedagogy generally, and to the degree that theories of critical pedagogy are found to replicate Freire’s failure to overcome this dichotomy, I believe that they verify Gur-Ze’ev’s claim that critical pedagogy has generally thus far disregarded fundamental philosophical subject-object relations. The question is then raised: will a diasporic counter-education itself avoid philosophical commitments related to the domination of nature? I believe that it can, though of course whether it will do so remains to be determined. Therefore, in the space that is left to me here, as the beginnings of a critical dialogue on these issues, I would like to offer some brief ecopedagogical reflections on Gur-Ze’ev’s framing of a possible counter-education as being qualitatively diasporic. ‘‘Diaspora’’ was initially a Greek term associated with the scattering of seeds (sporaia) as part of the planting process and it is in that sense that I read and welcome Gur-Ze’ev’s formulation. More commonly, however, ‘‘diaspora’’ connotes the wide geographic 1 On the opposition of the human to the animal in Freire, see Kahn (2003). 123 The Need to Fertile-Eyes the Field 373 dispersion of peoples, and while ecopedagogy is interested in interrogating the ecological and economic meanings of such diasporas, it is not clear that diasporas of this order are generally beneficial to creating more ecological societies or sustaining the balance of ecosystems. On the one hand, contemporary neoliberal and neoconservative globalization processes can be described as diasporic and one can find diasporic imperialism of this order extending as far back as the Pax Romana edict of ‘‘ad termini orbis terrarium,’’ in which citizens were sent to the ends of the earth in order to colonize territories and facilitate their integration into the empire. On the other hand, diasporas can also come in the form of refugees’ migrations from the horrors of war, socio-economic collapse, political displacement, genocide, natural disaster, or other calamities. While I do not think that GurZe’ev supports diasporic globalization, I can imagine that Gur-Ze’ev intends for us to also think of counter-education as diasporic in this latter sense of ‘‘refugee,’’ as what is our time if not a great global production line of spiritual exile and people’s bottled messages set adrift in search of hope? The image of Benjamin, the eternal wanderer whose suicide at the hands of the Nazis captures both the possibility of the meaninglessness that may lay at the heart of existence and of the redemptive tragedy that is the deeply human response to such meaninglessness, reappears as deeply iconic in this way. But if corporate globalization is now probably the utmost threat to the ecological stability of the planet, migrant refugees themselves have been known to provide mechanisms by which catastrophic diseases can take hold in environments, public health crises are fostered, damaging invasive species are introduced, and extreme population stresses are placed on bioregions. Thus, a deeper dialectical critique of diasporic experience is required that examines its ecological effects in the concrete. On a more philosophical level, Gur-Ze’ev celebrates the ontological state of nomadic homelessness in order to oppose those who would have us feel ‘‘at home’’ with the current order and settle for the facts as given to us. Yet, it has been one of the fundamental initiatives of the environmental movement to get people to re-experience their dwelling in and with the world and to know, care for, and honor their locale such that they preserve its integrity over time. Indeed, the very idea of ecology itself is of aspiring to relate to the home’s (oikos) underlying order and balance (logos). Further, many indigenous Americans––who often maintain cultural traditions far more sustainable than those of the modern West––specifically speak of protecting their ‘‘homeland’’ in order to call attention to their relationship, not just to the sheltering Earth, but to the dire poverty and epidemic homelessness that is often faced by Indians on the reservations. As chronicled in the Godfrey Reggio film of the same name, tribes such as the Hopi have characterized the indeterminacy of this historical moment as ‘‘koyaanisqatsi,’’ or life/home out of balance resulting in a time of moral corruption and great turmoil. While Gur-Ze’ev thus appears to conceive of existential homelessness as a wideranging, universal philosophy, I wonder if it is not better figured as a form of culturallyspecific conceptual mythology. That is, perhaps it would be more ecologically appropriate to specifically characterize such ‘‘homelessness’’ as a hermeneutical device by which the all-too-numerous children of the matrix can begin to critically interpret their ideologically self-evident realities towards freeing their minds and developing new sensibilities for the world. For, in the cases of people who possess different conceptual vernaculars, of a kind which can already foster conviviality and community across all the strata of biota, the promotion of philosophical diaspora could ironically have a reverse effect and be actually uprooting, if not culturally imperialist. Therefore, from the perspective of ecological ethics, we might contemplate if there is not something of Wittgenstein’s ladder to Gur-Ze’ev’s 123 374 R. Kahn demand for a diasporic counter-education: does one have permission to cast it away as long as one’s vision is fertile enough to surmount its challenges and so see the world rightly? References Bowers, C. A. (2003). Can critical pedagogy be greened? Educational Studies, 34, 11–21. Freire, P. (2004). Pedagogy of indignation. Boulder: Paradigm Publishers. Gur-Ze’ev, I. (Ed.) (2005). Critical theory and critical pedagogy today: Toward a new critical language in education. Haifa: Haifa University. Kahn, R. (2003). Paulo Freire and eco-justice: Updating pedagogy of the oppressed for the age of ecological calamity. Freire Online Journal, 1(1). Retrieved November 14, 2006, from, http://www.paulofreireinstitute.org/freireonline/volume1/1kahn1.html. Kahn, R. (2006). The educative potential of ecological militancy in an age of big oil: Towards a Marcusean ecopedagogy. Policy Futures in Education, 4(1), 31–44. Kahn, R. (2007a). The potential disaster of education for sustainable development. In K. Saltman (Ed.), Education and the politics of disaster. New York: Routledge. Kahn, R. (2007b). 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