jueves, 23 de enero de 2020

Postmodern Identity Politics and the Social Tyranny of the Definable



Beyond the proliferating multiplicity of identities in the contemporary political arena based on cultures, languages, regions, religions, nations, sexes, classes, and special interests, what makes us truly one without limits, without exclusions and restrictions—is nothing. Precisely Nothing. And nothing is more important for us to grasp than this, in order to be able to live together on our shrinking, globalized planet. This nothing is the nothing specifiable or stateable of the single individual, the person herself or himself intimated or divined behind or beyond all categories and groupings into which his or her specific differences can be fit. It is the nakedness of our person. That is what is truly universal. All fundamentally are this nakedness: in it alone, all are equal. Without any support from outside, without superiority of class, gender, race, or social standing, the naked self stands alone in the dignity of having nothing to disguise it or to answer for it, no alibi but itself. As such, each of us can stand out, ex-ist (from the Greek ἵστημι, to stand or make stand) in the full stature of our uniqueness and, at the same time, our universality.  This is a universality of being nothing—nothing that can be said or specified. 

William Franke
Vanderbilt University

lunes, 13 de enero de 2020

Of Garden and Time: The Power of Eve’s Romanesque Body


Set in the Garden of Eden, Eve’s history marks the beginning of the history of women, and her fall is the primeval story of humankind. Her figure and character shape human identity, which is grounded in the earth.
Lintel fragment of Eve from Autun Cathedral, ca. 1120, now in Rolin Museum. Photo © A.-M. Moubayed

I
n Genesis, God first created Adam and then Eve from Adam’s rib to serve as his female counterpart and companion (Genesis 2:23-25). The first man and woman were destined to live eternally, deprived of shame in Eden, the garden of God. They were free to eat fruit from any tree, except the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil; however, symbol of chaos and the underworld, a serpent – the Devil disguised – seduced Eve and persuaded her to eat the forbidden fruit from the tree, which she also offered to Adam, bringing about the Original Sin (Genesis 3:1-10). Eve’s curiosity and vanity spark the fall of humanity; her and Adam’s disobedience to God resulted in their expulsion from Paradise, after which they and their descendants would experience pain, evil, and death.  In this biblical narrative, Eve triggers the fall of humanity, as she is depicted as its main protagonist.
Traditionally unclothed, the figure of Eve made a sudden appearance on highly visible areas in interiors and exteriors of churches throughout Europe, built during the great architectural effervescence of ca. 1100, now characterized as the ‘Romanesque.’ Adapted, re-read, and sexualized in the medieval period, the story of Eve advanced agendas surrounding sex and gender. She became a plastic translation of socio-religious ideology, which imagined her body as a site of sin. Eve’s presence on the Romanesque portal re-enacts and narrates the history of humanity as created by God where time, as Saint Augustine explains, has neither understandable boundaries nor measure:

In eternity nothing moves into the past: all is present (totum esse praesens). Time, on the other hand, is never all present at once… What then is time? If no one asks me, I know. If I wish to explain it to someone that asks, I do not know... It is now plain and evident that neither future nor past things exist. Nor can we properly say, “there are three times: past, present, and future.” Instead, we might properly say: “there are three times: a present-of-things-past, a present-of-things-present, and a present-of-things-future.”[1]

Eternal time belongs to God’s Knowledge, which was lost by Eve and her descendants when she ate the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. The three times — past (memory/memoria), present (observation/contuitus), future (expectation/intentio) — are defined by a presence of things in an eternal setting, where the past, present, and future alone do not exist, yet their presence does.[2]
French philosopher Paul Ricœur presents an extensive study of the relationship between temporality and narrativity to explain Saint Augustine’s understanding of time and his unsuccessful attempt to explain effectively its nature. Ricœur’s analysis of Augustine’s Book 11 focuses on the pairing between intentio animi (distention of the soul by time: the soul’s passive subjectivity of time) and intentio (the intention: the soul’s ability to act freely in time), with which Saint Augustine struggles to measure time.[3]  The philosopher’s main argument is that time and narrative are interdependent:

Ultimately at stake in the case of the structural identity of the narrative function as well as in that of the truth claim of every narrative work, is the temporal character of human experience. The world unfolded by every narrative is always a temporal world… between the activity of narrating a story and the temporal character of human experience there exists a correlation that is not merely accidental but that presents a transcultural form of necessity.[4]

Ricœur also states that “time becomes human to the extent that it is articulated through a narrative mode, and narrative attains its full meaning when it becomes a condition of temporal existence.”[5]  Time, as we perceive it, is thus measured in terms of the memory and expectations and memory of the past things and the future.[6]  The history of humanity and its three temporal intentions — past, present, future ⁠— as well as God’s eternal time are commemorated on the Romanesque façade to serve the memory and expectations of medieval Christians, who understood the measurement of time as a human construct.[7]  Starting in the Garden of Eden, with Eve’s Original Sin and leading to God’s Incarnation, Sacrifice and Redemption on an eternal time line, the early events of humanity write its end. Taking roots in Eve’s Original Sin, it is this clear, and yet complex idea that is frequently articulated on Romanesque portals across Europe. Eve’s acquisition of power through knowledge, her display of flesh and the emphasis it places on sexuality generated a domino effect, leading Adam to sin, which culminated in their loss of the Garden of Eden.
Temptation and Fall of Adam and Eve, ca. 1150, Poitiers Cathedral. Photo © A.-M. Moubayed

Our human condition, from the perspective of the Western tradition, has been portrayed in terms of our understanding of Eden. The idea of Eden, or Paradise, fuels our imagination and creativity, as it did for the medieval monastic communities who developed Eve’s iconography and for the churchgoers who gazed upon historiated Romanesque portals in their quest for perfection. It is from this primeval story that features a mysterious tree and talking snake that once made Eve and then Adam drift away towards sorrow, pain, and the flesh's earthliness, that our human condition is constructed. Within this story, the garden is the space where our morality, sexuality, status, and gender roles, as well as our artistic and literary traditions, are defined. In that light, Romanesque sculptural programs reflect humankind’s quest for perfection and identity in narrating Messianic Redemption, where Eve and her flesh play a powerful leading role in shaping Western socio-religious and visual culture.

Anna-Maria Moubayed, PhD
Concordia University, Canada



[1] Saint Augustine, Confessions 11:13,14, 20.
[2] Ibid., 11:20, 26.
[3] Paul Ricœur, Time and Narrative, vol.1, trans. Kathleen McLaughlin and David Pellauer (Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 1984), 7. See also: Saint Augustine, Confessions, 11: 28, 38.
[4] Ibid., 3, 152.
[5] Ibid., 52.
[6] Ibid., 21.
[7] Donald J. Wilcox, The Measure of Times Past: Pre-Newtonian Chronologies and the Rhetoric of Relative Time (Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 1987), 137.