Tag Archives: anti-intellectualism

L’intellectuel s’assume

Le personnage de l’intellectuel(le) mérite bien son petit billet. D’autant que son identité est venue se loger à plusieurs reprises dans ma vie, ces derniers temps.

(Pour simplifier, et par référence à un contexte universaliste, j’utiliserai le terme «intellectuel» au masculin comme s’il était neutre.)

Oui, bien entendu, je suis moi-même un intellectuel et je m’assume en tant que tel. D’ailleurs, j’ai d’abord pensé intituler ce billet «Confessions d’un intellectuel solidaire» ou quelque-chose du genre. Mais la formule «Confessions d’un <nom><adjectif>» est déjà assez fréquente, sur ce blogue. Et je ne pense pas seulement de façon introspective à ce personnage.

D’ailleurs, c’est en lisant certains trucs au sujet de la fameuse Affaire Dreyfus que m’est venue l’idée d’écrire un billet sur la notion d’«intellectuel». Il s’avère que l’adoption du terme «intellectuel» pour désigner une certaine catégorie d’individu puisse dater de la France de la fin du XIXè siècle, y compris dans son usage anglais. Cette période historique m’a fortement influencé, surtout par la lecture de divers écrivains français de l’époque. Mais c’est moins par désir de reconstituer une réalité historique que je me mets à parler d’intellectuel que par intérêt pour la construction de personnages sociaux, quels qu’ils soient. Penser au fait que l’intellectuel est construit me permet de remettre en contexte social un ensemble de réalités qui m’apparaissent intéressantes. Surtout qu’elles peuvent facilement être liées à la «culture geek» qui m’intéresse tant, en plus de me toucher directement.

Évidemment, ce n’est pas la première fois que l’intellectuel comme personnage se retrouve sur ce blogue. Mais le contexte semblait particulièrement approprié, aujourd’hui.

Faut dire que je suis allé à un petit brunch avec des amis du primaire. Ça ne surprendra personne de savoir que ces amis me considéraient déjà comme un intellectuel à l’époque. Pas qu’ils aient utilisé le terme. Mais l’étiquette était là. Sauf que, contrairement à ce que j’ai ressenti il y a près de trente ans, cette étiquette n’était pas la base d’un rejet.

D’ailleurs, je pense souvent à la théorie de l’étiquetage. Elle était même présente dans un cours de sociologie que j’enseignais l’été dernier. Pour simplifier: les étiquettes qui nous sont collées ont des implications durables dans nos agissements sociaux. Ou, pour citer Howie Becker selon un dictionnaire suisse:

Le comportement déviant est ce que les gens étiquettent comme tel ; le déviant est celui à qui on a réussi à coller cette étiquette

(Évidemment, j’étends la notion d’étiquetage hors de la déviance au sens strict.)

Dans ce contexte, le comportement d’intellectuel est celui qui est étiquetté comme tel. L’intellectuel est celui à qui on a réussi à coller cette étiquette.

Version personnelle (que j’ai même eu l’occasion d’exposer à un ami du primaire): je me comporte en fonction de l’étiquette d’intellectuel qui a été posée sur moi, dès le jeune âge. Pas que cette étiquette est abusive: elle colle parce qu’elle trouve une surface qui s’y prête. Mais le personnage de l’intellectuel n’est pas naturel, universel, atemporel ou dénué d’ambiguïté.

Parlant d’ambiguïté, faudrait penser à le définir, cet intellectuel.

Selon Wikipedia:

Un intellectuel est une personne qui, du fait de sa position sociale, dispose d’une forme d’autorité et s’engage dans la sphère publique pour défendre des valeurs.

Pas mal. C’est un peu la base de mon premier billet sur les intellectuels. L’engagement public prend diverses formes et on comprend le lien avec l’Affaire Dreyfus.

Mais les usages communs du terme (et d’«intellectualisme» et “intellectualism“) semblent aller dans diverses autres directions. D’abord, la notion d’une intelligence «supérieure» (que les cognitivistes relativisent si bien mais qui semble consensuelle, socialement). Cette perception de l’intelligence est liée à une forme d’élitisme, l’intellectuel fait partie d’une élite particulière et exclue parfois ceux qui n’en font pas partie. Puis il y a la notion de «rationalité», l’intellectuel conçu comme étant «loin de ses émotions». Ou la maladresse et le manque d’aptitudes manuelles, le terme «intellectuel» alors utilisé pour exprimer un certain mépris. Pour aller plus loin, on peut même dire que le fait de souscrire à un certain dualisme «corps/esprit» est souvent teinté d’«intellectualisme».

Ces dénotations et connotations me semblent toutes appropriées pour décrire un type précis d’intellectuel: le «geek» (j’aime bien «geekette» pour le féminin; il y a relativement peu de femmes geeks). Le personnage du geek est une part important du stéréotype contemporain lié à l’intellectuel. Contrairement au «nerd» des années 1980, le geek a désormais une place de choix au sein de la culture populaire. Et la réhabilitation du geek constitue un mouvement contraire à une vague d’anti-intellectualisme très patente aux États-Unis et dans d’autres sociétés post-industrielles.

Penser au geek en tant qu’intellectuel permet de situer le personnage dans son contexte social. D’un point de vue professionnel, le geek typique est souvent ingénieur, informatien ou scientifique. Le contexte scolaire a souvent accordé beaucoup d’importance aux notes qu’il obtenait. Il est peut-être très apte à entreprendre diverses activités manuelles, il peut même «travailler de ses mains autant que de sa tête», mais son intellect demeure valorisé. C’est «un cerveau», un “brainiac”. Pas que son «niveau d’intelligence» est nécessairement plus élevé que la moyenne, mais le type particulier d’intelligence qui le caractérise correspond largement à l’idée qu’on se fait généralement du «quotient intellectuel»: capacité d’abstraction, sens logique, rapidité à résoudre des équations ou à se remémorer une information, minutie…

Pour revenir à la construction sociale du personnage de l’intellectuel. Malgré certaines transformations au cours du dernier siècle, l’intellectuel conserve un statut social particulier. Dans un modèle d’économie politique (à la fois dans sa version capitaliste que socialiste), l’intellectuel fait partie d’une espèce de classe sociale avec ses caractéristiques particulières. C’est un type de «col blanc» qui ne fait pas un travail très routinier. C’est aussi l’individu qui bénéficie du privilège lié à l’éducation post-secondaire dans les sociétés post-industrielles. C’est celui qui a le loisir de lire et de parfaire son apprentissage. C’est le public-cible de «La Culture», au sens raffiné du terme. C’est peut-être même un snob, un personnage hautain, l’opposé du «vrai monde».

Et c’est là que le mode introspectif me fait réagir: je suis peut-être un intellectuel, mais je suis pas snob. Si je suis «anti-» quoi que ce soit, c’est anti-snob. Et je ne considère pas l’intellectuel comme plus intelligent qu’un autre. Je considère surtout l’intellectuel comme une création des sociétés post-industrielles, basées sur la division pointue du travail social. Même que, ce snobisme, c’est ce qui me dérange le plus du fait d’être intellectuel. C’est probablement pour ça que, même si je m’assume comme intellectuel, je tente souvent d’effacer cette étiquette. «Je suis un intellectuel mais je suis aussi un bon gars.»

Dans mon cas, le fait d’être considéré comme un intellectuel a beaucoup de lien avec mon éloquence perçue. On m’a toujours considéré comme éloquent. Enfant, déjà, je «parlais bien». Du moins, c’est ce qu’on a dit de moi (pas plus tard qu’aujourd’hui). Bon, d’accord, comme l’art oratoire a toujours été valorisé dans ma famille, j’ai probablement été porté à m’amuser avec le verbe. Aussi, je lisais déjà beaucoup, enfant. Et j’écrivais: à l’âge de dix ans, je tapais à la dactylo un petit texte au sujet de la perfection (qui semble logiquement impossible puisqu’elle est une absence de défaut). Et j’avais l’occasion de m’exprimer. Auprès d’adultes, surtout.

D’ailleurs, c’est probablement un point très important. Tout jeune, j’avais des rapports assez étroits avec plusieurs adultes (des amis de mes parents, surtout). J’étais souvent le seul enfant parmi de nombreux adultes. Plusieurs d’entre eux étaient profs (comme mon père). On m’écoutait avec intérêt. Dans une certaine mesure, j’étais presque pavané comme un animal de cirque qui pouvait discourir sur tout et sur rien. Mon père a souvent parlé de tout ça comme d’un problème fondamental. Peut-être par extension, mon étiquette d’intellectuel était perçue comme un problème. Fondamental.

Je considère aujourd’hui que je me suis bien développé. Je suis ce que j’ai toujours voulu être et je peux parfois faire ce que j’ai toujours voulu faire. Je devrais pas avoir honte.

D’être un intellectuel.

Advertisements

Intello-Bullying

A topic which I’ll revisit, to be sure. But while I’m at it…
I tend to react rather strongly to a behaviour which I consider the intellectual equivalent of schoolyard bullying.
Notice that I don’t claim to be above this kind of behaviour. I’m not. In fact, one reason for my blogging this is that I have given some thought to my typical anti-bullying reaction. Not that I feel bad about it. But I do wonder if it might not be a good idea to adopt a variety of mechanisms to respond to bullying, in conjunction with my more “gut response” knee-jerk reactions and habits.
Notice also that i’m not describing individual bullies. I’m not complaining about persons. I’m thinking about behaviour. Granted, certain behaviours are typically associated with certain people and bullying is no exception. But instead of blaming, I’d like to assess, at least as a step in a given direction. What can I do? I’m an ethnographer.
Like schoolyardb bullying, intello-bullying is based on a perceived strength used to exploit and/or harm those who perceived as weaker. Like physical strength, the perception of “intellectual strength” on which intello-bullying is based needs not have any objective validity. We’re in subjectivity territory, here. And subjects perceive in patterned but often obscure ways. Those who think of themselves as “strong” in intellectual as well as physical senses, are sometimes the people who are insecure as to their overall strengths and weaknesses.
Unlike schoolyard bullying, intello-bullying can be, and often is, originated by otherwise reasonably mature people. In fact, some of the most agressive intello-bullying comes from well-respected “career intellectuals” who “should know better.” Come to think of it, this type of bullying is probably the one I personally find the most problematic. But, again, I’m not talking about bullies. I’m not describing people. I’m talking about behaviour. And implications if behaviour.
My personal reactions may come from remnants of my impostor syndrome. Or maybe they come from a non-exclusive sense of self-worth that I found lying around in my life, as I was getting my happiness back. As much I try, I can’t help but feel that intello-bullying is a sign of intellectual self-absorption, which eventually link to weakness. Sorry, folks, but it seems to me that if you feel the need, even temporarily, to impose your intellectual strength on those you perceive as intellectually weak, I’ll assume you may “have issues to solve.” in fact, I react the same way when I perceive my own behaviour as tantamount to bullying. It’s the behaviour I have issues with. Not the person.
And this is the basis of my knee-jerks: when I witness bullying, I turn into a bully’s bully. Yeah, pretty dangerous. And quite unexpected for a lifelong pacifist like yours truly. But, at least I can talk and think about it. Unapologetically.
You know, this isn’t something I started doing yesterday. In fact, it may be part of a long-standing mission of mine. Half-implicit at first. Currently “assumed,” assessed, acknowledged. Accepted.
Before you blame me for the appearance of an “avenger complex” in this description, please give some more thought to bullying in general. My hunch is that many of you will admit that you value the existence of anti-bullies in schoolyards or in other contexts. You may prefer it if cases of bullying are solved through other means (sanction by school officials or by parents, creation of safe zones…). But I’d be somewhat surprised if your thoughts about anti-bullying prevention left no room for non-violent but strength-based control by peers. If it is the case, I’d be very interested in your comments on the issue. After all, I may be victim of some idiosyncratic notion of justice which you find inappropriate. I’m always willing to relativize.
Bear in mind that I’m not talking about retaliation. Though it may sound like it, this is no “eye for an eye” rule. Nor is it “present the left cheek.” it’s more like crowd control. Or this form of “non-abusive” technique used by occupational therapists and others while helping patients/clients who are “disorganizing.” Basically, I’m talking about responding to (intello-)bullying with calm but some strength being asserted. In the case of “fighting with words,” in my case, it may sound smug and even a bit dismissive. But it’s a localized smugness which I have a hard time finding unhealthy.
In a sense, I hope I’m talking about “taking the high road.” With a bit of self-centredness which has altruistic goals. “”I’ll act as if I were stronger than you, because you used your perceived strength to dominate somebody else. I don’t have anything against you but I feel you should be put in your place. Don’t make me go to the next step through which I can make you weep.”
At this point, I’m thinking martial arts. I don’t practise any martial art but, as an outsider, I get the impression this thinking goes well with some martial arts. Maybe judo, which allegedly relies on using your opponent’s strength. Or Tae Kwon Do, which always sounded “assertive yet peaceful” when described by practitioners.
The corrolary of all this is my attitude toward those who perceive themselves as weak. I have this strong tendency to want them to feel stronger. Both out of this idiosyncratic atttude toward justice and because of my compulsive empathy. So, when someone says something like “I’m not that smart” or “I don’t have anything to contribute,” I switch to the “nurturing mode” that I may occasionally use in class or with children. I mean not to patronize, though it probably sounds paternalistic to outside observers. It’s just a reaction I have. I don’t even think its consequences are that negative in most contexts.
Academic contexts are full of cases of intello-bullying. Classrooms, conferences, outings… Put a group of academics in a room and unless there’s a strong sense of community (Turner would say “communitas”), intello-bullying is likely to occur. At the very least, you may witness posturing, which I consider a mild form of bullying. It can be as subtle as a tricky question ask to someone who is unlikely to provide a face-saving answer and it can be as aggressive as questioning someone’s inteligence directly or claiming to have gone much beyond what somebody else has said.
In my mind, the most extreme context for this type of bullying is the classroom and it involves a teacher bullying a learner. Bullying between isn’t much better but, as a teacher, I’m even more troubled by the imposong authority structure based on status.

I put “cyber-bullying” as a tag because, in my mind, cyber-bullying (like trolling, flamebaiting and other agressive behaviours online) is a form of intello-bullying. It’s using a perceived “intellectual strength” to dominate. It’s very close to schoolyard bullying but because it may not rely on a display of physical strength, I tend to associate it with mind-based behaviour.
As I think about these issues, I keep thinking of snarky comments. Contrary to physical attacks, snarks necessitate a certain state of mind to be effective. They need to tap on some insecurity, some self-perceived weakness in the victim. But they can be quite dangerous in the right context.
As I write this, I think about my own snarky comments. Typically, they either come after some escalation or they will be as indefinite as possible. But they can be extremely insulting if they’re internalized by some people.
Two come from a fairly known tease/snark. Namely

If you’re so smart, why ain’t you rich?

(With several variants.)

I can provide several satisfactory answers to what is ostensibly a question. But, as much as I try, I can’t relate to the sentiment behind this rhetorical utterance, regardless of immediate context (but regardful of the broader social context). This may have to do with the fact that “getting rich” really isn’t my goal in life. Not only do I agree with the statement that “money can’t buy happiness” and do I care more about happiness than more easily measurable forms of success, but my high empathy levels do include a concept of egalitarianism and solidarity which makes this emphasis on wealth sound counter-productive.

Probably because of my personal reactions to that snark, I have created at least two counter-snarks. My latest one, and the one which may best represent my perspective, is the following:

If you’re so smart, why ain’t you happy?

With direct reference to the original “wealth and intelligence” snark, I wish to bring attention to what I perceive to be a more appropriate goal in life (because it’s my own goal): pursuit of happiness. What I like about this “rhetorical question” is that it’s fairly ambiguous yet has some of the same effects as the “don’t think about pink elephants” illocutionary act. As a rhetorical question, it needs not be face-threatening. Because the “why aren’t you happy?” question can stand on its own, the intelligence premise “dangles.” And, more importantly, it represents one of my responses to what I perceive as a tendency (or attitude and “phase”) associating happiness with lack of intelligence. The whole “ignorance is bliss” and «imbécile heureux» perspective. Voltaire’s Candide and (failed) attempts to discredit Rousseau. Uses of “touchy-feely” and “warm and fuzzy” as insults. In short, the very attitude which makes most effectively tricks out intellectuals in the “pursuit of happiness.”

I posted my own snarky comment on micro-blogs and other social networks. A friend replied rather negatively. Though I can understand my friend’s issues with my snark, I also care rather deeply about delinking intelligence and depression.

A previous snark of mine was much more insulting. In fact, I would never ever use it with any individual, because I abhor insulting others. Especially about their intelligence. But it does sound to me like an efficient way to unpack the original snark. Pretty obvious and rather “nasty”:

If you’re so rich, why ain’t you smart?

Again, I wouldn’t utter this to anyone. I did post it through social media. But, like the abovementioned snark on happiness, it wasn’t aimed at any specific person. Though I find it overly insulting, I do like its “counterstrike” power in witticism wars.

As announced through the “placeholder” tag and in the prefacing statement (or disclaimer), this post is but a draft. I’ll revisit this whole issue on several occasions and it’s probably better that I leave this post alone. Most of it was written while riding the bus from Ottawa to Montreal (through the WordPress editor available on the App Store). Though I’ve added a few things which weren’t in this post when I arrived in Montreal (e.g., a link to NAPPI training), I should probably leave this as a “bus ride post.”

I won’t even proofread this post.

RERO!


Curmudgeon Phase

Just a placeholder but I do want to write something longer about attitudes toward “people with attitude.”

I get the impression that, at least in intellectual circles in the United States or other Anglo contexts, there’s a common (to my mind mis-)conception that curmudgeony people are somehow “smarter” than anyone else. Not only do I think this would be an inaccurate characterization, but I think it’s embedded in broader issues about anti-intellectualism, social change, and philosophy.

Sure, some of the best-known curmudgeons have had some interesting ideas to share. But I see no connection between a miserly attitude and any form of insight. I even think that some people are adopting the attitude to position themselves as “intelligent people,” regardless of how intelligent they are (in quality as well as in “perceived measure”). To go even further, I think that the negative attitude in question is often but a phase in a longer process of intellectual discovery and that “enlightened” people often have a much more serene attitude.

In other words, I sometimes get the feeling that some people use an opinionated tone to fake being smart.

There. I’ve said it.

Now, I don’t mean to say that curmudgeons aren’t intelligent. My concept of intelligence doesn’t even work that way (I think there are different forms of intelligence, that intelligence can’t necessarily be measured, etc.). But I do think that some of the actual impostors (not those relating to the impostor syndrome) are using what they perceive as a “status symbol of intellectual prowess” to bolster their self-confidence in contexts which give a lot of prestige to so-called “smart people.”

As dismissive as it ends up sounding, I almost take the “curmudgeon phase” as the wit-focused equivalent to the awkward period of physical changes during puberty. It even reminds me of an exceedingly pointed mockery, by a member of Montreal’s intelligentsia, that a well-known Montreal journalist was “living beyond his intellectual means.” Though the mockery is very nasty, I happen to think that it encapsulated something of the journalist’s attitude which is worth considering. That journalist isn’t really that cranky (especially when compared with “professional curmudgeons” in the United States) but he clearly has “an attitude.” And I really don’t perceive that attitude as a sign of intellectual superiority. (Not that I have a clear notion of what “intellectual superiority” should entail but, hopefully, ya catch my drift.)

Some non-cranks seem to share the curmudgeons’ association of wits with ‘tude. At least, something similar may have been at stake when Douglas N. Adams, whom I’d have a hard time perceiving as a curmudgeon, wrote neurotic elevators and other technological annoyances into his Guide. Now, neurosis and ill-temper aren’t connected by necessity. But the notion that sentient technology would likely have a very negative attitude toward life (as well as toward the Universe and even toward Everything) seems to me to relate to the idea that it isn’t really possible to be both exceedingly intelligent and unbelievably happy. Slartibartfast‘s distinctions between happiness and truth contributes to my impression. And it seems quite likely that DNA wasn’t that serene a person, despite all the happiness to which he has contributed.

Ok, I guess that’ll have to do for now. It’s actually a relief to be writing this. As I’m becoming much more serene, I want to let go of this negativity which I’ve been encountering in some self-important circles.

 

“If you’re so smart, why ain’t you happy?” does sound less dismissive than the “if you’re so rich, why ain’t you smart?” that I’d like to level at some ultra-competitive materialists.


French «Intellectuels» (draft)

[Old draft of a post that I never finished writing… Started it in late February.]

Been thinking about intellectuals, especially French ones. It might have been a long-standing issue for me. To this French-speaking North American academic, the theme is obvious.

More specifically, though.

Was listening to a podcast with French journalist Daniel Schneidermann who, among other things, is a blogger. During the podcast, Schneidermann made a simple yet interesting comment about validation by readers. As a journalist, he has an obligationto adopt strict standards, verify sources, etc. As a blogger, he knows that if something that he says is inaccurate, blog readers will quickly point out the mistake. Again, dead simple. One of the basic things people have understood about online communication since at least 1994. But some journalists have typically been slow to understand the implications, perhaps because it causes a sea change in their practise. So Scheidermann’s comment was relatively “refreshing” in such a context.

Wanted to blog on that issue. Went to Scheidermann’s blog and read a few things. Noticed one about a Wikipedia entry on Schneidermann. While the blogger understands the value of reader validation, he seems to be uneasy with the fact that his Wikipedia entry was, when he first read it, disproportionally devoted to some specific issues in his life. Which leads me to the intellectuel thing.

A little over ten years ago, Pierre Bourdieu was on Schneidermann’s television set for a show about television. Bourdieu had been thinking and writing about television’s social impact. The context in which Schneidermann invited Bourdieu was a series of political and social events centering on an important strike with which Bourdieu had been associated. By participating in the show, Bourdieu had the (secret) intention of demonstrating television’s incapacity at taking distance from itself. Bourdieu had participated in another television show a few years prior and apparently saw his presence on a television set as an occasion to experiment with some important issues having to do with the media’s channeling of dialogue. Didn’t see the show but had heard about the events that followed without following it. A brief summary, from very limited evidence.After appearing on the show, Bourdieu published a short piece in Le Monde diplomatique (Schneidermann was a journalist at Le Monde). That piece was strongly-worded but can be seen as a fairly typical media analysis by a social scientist or other scholar. Not Bourdieu’s most memorable work, maybe, but clear and simple, if a bit watered down at times. In fact, the analysis looked more Barthes-type semiotics than Bourdieu’s more, erm, “socially confrontational” work.

Schneidermann’s response to Bourdieu’s analysis looks more like a knee-jerk reaction to what was perceived as personal attacks. Kind of sad, really. In fact, the introduction to that response points out the relevance of Bourdieu’s interrogations.

At any rate, one aspect of Schneidermann’s response which is pretty telling in context is the repeated use of the term intellectuel at key points in that text. It’s not so much about the term itself, although it does easily become a loaded term. An intellectual could simply be…

[Google: define intellectual…]:

a person who uses his or her intellect to study, reflect, or speculate on a variety of different ideas

[ Thank you, Wikipedia! 😉 ]

But, in context, repeated use of the term, along with repeated mentions of Collège de France (a prestigious yet unusual academic institution) may give the impression that Schneidermann was reacting less to Bourdieu as former guest than to the actions of an intellectuel. Obligatory Prévert citation:

Il ne faut pas laisser les intellectuels jouer avec les allumettes.

(Intellectuals shouldn’t be allowed to play with matches.)

Now, second stream of thought on intellectuels. Was teaching an ethnomusicology course at an anthropology department. A frequent reaction by students was that we were intellectualizing music too much. Understandable reaction. Music isn’t just an intellectual object. But, after all, isn’t the role of academia to understand life intellectually?

Those comments tended to come in reaction to some of the more difficult readings. To be fair, other reactions included students who point out that an author’s analysis isn’t going beyond some of the more obvious statements and yet others are cherishing the intellectual dimensions of our perspective on music. Altogether the class went extremely well, but the intellectual character of some of the content was clearly surprising to some.

The third strand or stream of thought on intellectuels came on February 27 in a television show with Jacques Attali. His was a typical attitude of confidence in being a “jack of all trades” who didn’t hesitate to take part in politics, public service, and commercial initiatives. I personally have been influenced by some of Jacques Attali’s work and, though I may disagree with several of his ideas, I have nothing but respect for his carreer. His is a refreshingly unapologetic form of intellectualism. Not exclusion of non-intellectuals. Just an attempt at living peacefully with everyone while thinking about as many issues as possible. He isn’t my hero but he deserves my respect, along with people like Yoro Sidibe, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Louis Armstrong, Boris Vian, Jan Garbarek, Georges Brassens, Steven Feld, Roland Barthes, James Brown, and Serge Gainsbourg.

A fourth thread came in a departmental conference at Université de Montréal’s Department of Anthropology. Much discussion of the involvement of anthropologists in social life. And the visit of two public intellectuals who happen to be anthropological provocateurs, here in Quebec: Serge Bouchard and Bernard Arcand.. . .

Never finished this draft.

Should really follow on these threads. They have been haunting me for almost a year. And connect with multiple issues that I tend to think about.

My attitude now is that through blogs, mailing-lists, online forums, classes, lectures, conferences, informal and formal discussions, I’m able to help people think about a large set of different issues, whether or not they agree with me on any single point. Not because I’m somehow better than others: I’m clearly not. Not because my ideas are better than those cherished by others: they clearly aren’t. Possibly because I’m extremely talkative. And enthusiastic about talking to just about anyone. There’s even a slight chance that I may have understood something important about my “role in life,” my “calling.” If so, great. If not, I’m having fun anyway and I don’t mind being (called) an intellectual. 😉