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Comentario a Andrés Hurtado García “Cuentas que gotean sangre”Octubre 23 de 2006, FUSTIGAR LA CORRUPCIÓN

 

 

Aunque siempre he admirado su defensa de la naturaleza y envidio de todo corazón sus caminatas por nuestra Colombia, sin duda sus análisis políticos muchas veces me dejan realmente inconforme y ampliamente desconcertado. Aunque en general sigo el argumento que usted plantea contra la designación de honorables a los parlamentarios colombianos, sin duda considero muy grave su miopía, incluso en el caso poco factible de que sea completamente verdadera. ¿En que sentido? Supongamos que en verdad, como usted enfatiza una y otra vez, todos los parlamentarios de Colombia son unos corruptos que andan en “triquiñuelas, zancadillas, componendas y arreglos de dudoso patriotismo” y que en verdad están sólo interesados en sus altísimos salarios privados y no en la vida guiada por el honor, es decir una vida fundada sobre la compleja dedicación al servicio público. Supongamos que esa afirmación sea verdadera, y supongamos que en realidad hay, hoy en día en Colombia —–allí, a las afueras del Congreso—- unos parlamentarios en proyecto que sin duda han sido tan bien capacitados en lo político que por fin tendríamos unos líderes que no caerían en la deshonorable desgracia que usted enfatiza. Supongamos entonces que en todo esto usted tiene la razón.

Sin embargo lo invito a que considere el siguiente problema que su manera de pensar genera si uno analiza la situación colombiana desde el ámbito, no del periodismo, sino desde el ámbito político mismo (entiéndase aquí desde el ámbito del estudio de los elementos que hacen de la política la más honorable de la prácticas tal y como aparece formulada una y otra vez desde los griegos). En este sentido podríamos decir lo siguiente. Suponga por un momento que el problema de la crisis en Colombia, como usted bien lo indica, es que no hay en verdad una clase política con las virtudes requeridas para ser considerados —como en efecto son considerados en todos los países (sean corruptos o no)— como honorables. En primer lugar, en este sentido sería interesante el pensar por qué en todos los países libres los parlamentarios son llamados honorables. Y por cierto podríamos pensar en esta paradoja, ¿acaso podríamos decir que su importante y lúcida defensa de la naturaleza es honorable? Pero además, en segundo lugar, suponga que usted está empeñado como educador en generar los futuros políticos colombianos que ahora sí serán los mas honorables que hemos conocido hasta ahora. Pues bien, a mi manera de ver, aquí surge un problema gigantesco si uno sigue su tipo de análisis. Si en nuestra educación de los futuros líderes políticos nosotros destrozamos el bien fundamental que mueve a la personalidad política —— a saber, el honor entendido como el reconocimiento merecido por el sacrifico que implica una vida dedicada al bien público en vez de a la “cómodidad” de una vida privada—–, si nosotros imprudentemente destruimos éste ideal diciendo que la noción de honorabilidad política carece de sentido lingüístico, semántico y práctico, entonces veo con suprema dificultad que quienes se dedican a la educación de los futuros líderes del país puedan generar dichos líderes. ¡Tendremos muchos periodistas, pero no líderes políticos! Es bien conocido que los sacrificios del servicio público son premiados en todos los países con diversos honores tanto en vida como póstumamente. Si destruimos este objetivo, y eliminamos este deseo vital en los jóvenes, terminaremos en un círculo vicioso que comienza con la critica ingenua del objetivo político por excelencia que es la honorabilidad, y culmina con la incapacidad de encontrar líderes públicos dignos de honor para llenar las posiciones ganadas con base en el mérito. Espero que el dilema que creo surge de su posición radical haya quedado bien planteado y que en este sentido lo invite a cierta moderación. Culmino esta reflexión muy limitada con las honorables palabras que Churchill dijo a unos jóvenes en 1941 incitándolos a una vida fundada en el honor: “Never give in–never, never, never, never, in nothing great or small, large or petty, never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yield to force; never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy.”

 

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La columna de Andrés Hurtado García, fechada Octubre 23 de 2006, y titulada FUSTIGAR LA CORRUPCIÓN: Cuentas que gotean sangre, dice así:

Un obrero, ganando 400 mil mensuales, debería trabajar 100 meses para sostener a uno de los Honorables.

Colombianito que todavía respiras, comes y sueñas, ¿quieres colocarte al borde del suicidio? Te invito a que oigas la excelente Luciérnaga, donde todos los días desenmascaran por lo menos cinco gigantescos robos contra el Estado, contra tu bolsillo.
Mientras escribo esto, oigo que el Contralor denunció ante los alcaldes que 70 mil millones de pesos de regalías petroleras que debían gastarse en salud, educación e infraestructura en los municipios se esfumaron en fiestas, monumentos, medallas y homenajes.

De tiempo en tiempo leemos desgarradores informes sobre el hambre y la pobreza desesperante de millones de colombianos.
Esta semana fue en Semana. Los únicos que no parecen haberse enterado del hambre del país son los Honorables Parlamentarios.
EL TIEMPO publicó el 21 de agosto un informe sobre lo que ganan los congresistas. A este informe me referiré varias veces. Cada congresista le cuesta al mes al Estado nada menos que 40 millones, lo que quiere decir que un obrero, sudando y matándose en el trabajo de sol a sol y ganando miserables 400.000 mensuales, debería trabajar 100 meses o sea más de 8 años para sostener a uno de los Honorables.

¿Que estos comentarios son subversivos? Elemental, mi querido lector. Lo que hacen los parlamentarios es enfurecer al pueblo e incitarlo a lo que Dios no quiera. El sueldo base mensual de un Honorable son 17 millones largos; para ganarse ese dinero un obrero debe trabajar 44 meses. Los Honorables ganan una prima en junio de 8 millones, una de Navidad de 17 millones y tienen derecho a cuatro tiquetes aéreos al mes. Estos sueldos y prebendas son subversivos. Que denuncie con nombres propios, me escribieron algunos lectores despistados.

Despistados porque no leyeron que descalifiqué a todos los parlamentarios con lista desde la A hasta la Z. ¿Por qué? Porque aunque sea legal (¿qué es lo legal en Colombia?) ganarse 17 millones al mes trabajando poco, eso no es ético, ni decente, ni humano, ni humanitario. Por eso creo que los Honorables, por andar en tantas triquiñuelas, zancadillas, componendas y arreglos de dudoso patriotismo no se han dado cuenta de que millones de colombianos pasan hambre y seguramente creen que todos los colombianos ganan 17 millones, como ellos. Y si se dan cuenta, son sencillamente desalmados y los señalo nuevamente a todos sin excepción.

Muchos me escriben diciendo que si todos los periodistas fustigáramos sin cesar la corrupción, esta podría disminuir, por lo menos hasta “sus justas proporciones”. Pero, es obvio, se necesitan periodistas que no tengan rabo de paja ni techo de vidrio y que tengan valor civil y amor por la patria. EL TIEMPO informó en su edición del 13 de agosto que por la presión de los medios “los congresistas peruanos devuelven dinero”. Luego, sí podemos hacer algo los periodistas con nuestra pluma.

Soy crítico permanente del Parlamento porque, con Honorables así, ¿cómo puede salir el país adelante? Y otra prueba reina: señor parlamentario, ¿aprobaría usted una ley lesiva para sus intereses personales pero inmensamente beneficiosa para el país? No, no doy por terminado mi Memorial de Agravios en defensa del humillado y maltratado pueblo colombiano. Seguiré.”

Mientras tanto, y nada que ver con lo anterior (?). Propongo que se elimine ese chistoso calificativo de Honorables que se endilgan unos a otros en sus debates. Con ello queda más tranquilo el país y ellos pueden seguir actuando más libre y tranquilamente, sin cargos de conciencia.”

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Comentario a María Jimena Duzán “Paz en la tumba de Uribe II”

Octubre 22 de 2006 – EL GIRO DE URIBE “Paz en la tumba de Uribe II”

Sin duda alguna ayudaría el comprender que un discurso político no puede ni debe ser como un artículo de periódico. Mientras que el lector al que usted como periodista se dirige se podría decir es siempre un lector universal, un discurso presidencial no tiene la misma libertad sobre la que se basa su comentario. Un discurso presidencial es local y específico, es dirigido a una audiencia concreta en un momento concreto. Su artículo, por el contrario, puede ser leído de manera similar tanto en Colombia como en Francia y el lector no requiere de audiencia alguna para ello. De cierta manera se podría decir que el discurso político no puede ni debe tener la libertad que usted exige ya que, sobretodo en este caso (como en todos los casos de crisis), es una respuesta a eventos que impiden la libertad misma. Es decir, todo discurso presidencial debe ir enfocado a un cierto tipo de audiencia especifica y no a un lector “universal” y “objetivo”. Tal vez por ello es más fácil comprender que la severidad de las palabras del presidente Uribe tienen mucho que ver con el sitio en que ocurrieron los hechos. Si hay un serio ataque a una institución militar el tipo de vocabulario que un presidente debe utilizar no puede ser, por ejemplo, el mismo lenguaje que cuando se relaciona con líderes gremiales, o con campesinos, o con sus propios consejeros, o con sus enemigos (que en este caso, es claro por el discurso mismo, incluyen tanto a las FARC como a los paramilitares). Espero que estas ideas muy incompletas ayuden a generar un cierto tipo de moderación en su columna. Por ejemplo, a tipo de ejercicio propio la invito a que considere la siguiente pregunta política desde el ámbito político mismo: ¿Qué tipo de discurso ha de realizar un presidente frente a las fuerzas militares, fuerzas que él lidera constitucionalmente, en el momento en que dichas fuerzas han sido golpeadas en una de las instituciones más preciadas para ellos? Sería este reto motivo de una de sus futuras columnas que podría ser titulada: “El discurso que el Presidente Uribe debió haber hecho.”

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La columna de María Jimena Duzán, fechada Octubre 22 de 2006 y titulada, EL GIRO DE URIBE: Paz en la tumba de Uribe II, dice así:

“La salida de los chiros que protagonizó el presidente Uribe el viernes pasado, luego del bombazo en la Universidad Militar, le ha devuelto la calma a mucho furibista. “¡Ese sí es el Presidente que reelegimos!”, fue uno de los tantos comentarios que alcancé a escuchar, luego de que el Presidente se hubiera despachado contra las Farc al otro día de la bomba, desde el sitio del atentado. El sábado, y como para que no hubiera equívocos, EL TIEMPO tituló así una nota de análisis del discurso presidencial: ‘Uribe II vuelve al Uribe I’, dando a entender que el II, es decir, el Uribe que sí quería hacer la paz con las Farc, que sí quería hacer el acuerdo humanitario, se habría esfumado y habría decidido volver como Matrix recargado (reloaded) y en su versión original.
Que sea esta la oportunidad para aclarar que rechazo abiertamente la idea de explicar los cambios de tercio de cualquier Presidente a través de tesis ezquizofrénicas que, además de insultar el intelecto, son falsas. A sus deudos, mi sentido pésame por la desaparición de ese Uribe II, conciliador y algo blandengue que poco duró, pero yo no lo lloro. Uno no puede añorar lo que nunca existió. ¿O es que acaso alguien pudo creer que el acercamiento que inició con las Farc, hecho como lo hizo, a la topa tolondra, sin ninguna planeación, sin mayor norte, era el de un Presidente comprometido en una estrategia de paz con esa guerrilla? Eso de sacar propuestas de paz como quien saca un conejo del sombrero, no lo recomienda ni Maquiavelo.
Lo que sucedió el viernes pasado, cuando el Mandatario se desbordó en epítetos contra la Farc y llamó a las Fuerzas Militares a que rescataran a sangre y fuego a los secuestrados, refrenda la tesis de que solo hay un Álvaro Uribe y de que el otro, el “II”, era tan falso como las tetas de silicona.
La verdad es que a este Uribe recargado le va a tocar hacer un acuerdo humanitario tarde que temprano. Las Farc son culpables de los secuestros, pero la responsabilidad política de liberarlos sanos y salvos es del Presidente. Nadie entendería que mientras permitió lo que permitió en La Ceja, en ocho años no hubiera podido formalizar un acuerdo humanitario.
De su discurso nos quedan otros interrogantes. ¿Cuál es el rasero con el que el presidente Uribe mide qué es y qué no es un acto terrorista? Lo pregunto porque en las últimas semanas las Farc ha cometido atentados mucho más graves. Han asesinado a un alcalde en Caldas; a un concejal en el Tolima; han puesto una bomba en Buenaventura, que mató a cinco personas, y el Gobierno, como si nada. Cosas peores están pasando en el proceso con los narcoparamilitares y el Presidente sigue ahí, manteniéndoles la cuerda floja. Vicente Castaño, con orden de captura y todo, se da el lujo de dar entrevistas desde la clandestinidad. Según la Comisión Colombiana de Juristas, hubo 3.005 asesinatos y cerca de 300 secuestros por las Auc, en su mayoría durante el proceso de paz. ¿Dónde están los epítetos contra los narcoparamilitares? No se oyen. Mientras a las Farc las llama fantoches -que de seguro lo son-, los otros son “los mal llamados paramilitares”, como si ese reconocimiento fuera injusto e inapropiado. ¿Cómo deberíamos llamarlos, señor Presidente?: ¿Señores? ¿Hombres de bien? ¿Doctores? ¿Dones?
De su discurso también se derivó otra realidad. La de que esta Fiscalía parece una convidada de piedra. No nos ha aclarado el tema de los falsos positivos, y el Presidente ya absolvió a los militares implicados y, de paso, dejó planteada la malévola tesis de que fue por culpa del impacto que tuvieron estas denuncias en la red de informantes que posiblemente se produjo el atentado en la Universidad Militar. O sea, que los medios somos los culpables de que hubiera estallado una bomba. ¡Qué tal! Por ese mismo camino vamos con el tema de los autores del atentado de la Universidad Militar. El Presidente ya dio su veredicto: fueron las Farc. Con un Presidente así… ¿para qué Fiscalía? Paz en la tumba de Uribe “II”.”

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(Note: FOR AN ALMOST IDENTICAL  PRESENTATION WHICH INCLUDES SOME PHOTOS, PLEASE SEE THE FOLLOWING: link )

On the City, Graffiti and Property

1. Introduction

There are indeed some journals one never thought one would ever write. This is one of those journals. It concerns the nature of street art in general, and that of graffiti and the issue of its legality in particular. Why ask this question, you might wonder. At a personal level I have, a bit to my surprise, found myself impressed by the works of graffiti one finds all over the gorgeous and welcoming city of Toronto. These are for the most part beautiful and complex works of art usually found in city spaces where an “artistic” atmosphere prevails; such is the case of famous Kensington Market. Talented artists have clearly left their mark, for the most part without upsetting the space of public institutions. But at a more general and political level, there is currently a “debate” within Toronto itself —between its political leaders and graffiti artists— regarding the very legality of graffiti. The fundamental question revolves around the question as to whether graffiti is a form of art which beautifies the city and expresses certain discontents among its citizens, or whether it is a criminal activity which damages the private property of citizens whose rights are in this manner trespassed without consent.

But the issue, I believe, goes beyond the status of the law. The impact of Graffiti is felt by the totality of citizens within a given city. Graffiti is out there to be seen, even if only in some neighborhoods. One need only recall the infamous Berlin Wall; hardly anyone would have denounced THAT graffiti. As a citizen of Toronto perhaps I myself might contribute to the debate. What can we learn from the constant appearance of graffiti in modern cities prone to the difficulties which overwhelm them at times; social inequalities, discrimination, pollution, bureaucratic indifference? What indeed could be learned by all citizens alike? It is my hypothesis that the best of Graffiti may teach us something about how we should reconsider our understanding of the role of private property in our society. In this respect one is led to ask what seems to be an utterly incredible question: can the love Graffiti artists show to the forgotten walls of the city, point to a different way of inhabiting our modern cities and of relating citizens to each other? This is the question to be considered here which, I repeat, necessarily move us beyond a mere consideration of the legality of graffiti. This journal is but a brief and inadequate attempt to deal with the complexity of the issue.

But first, I must let you have a taste of the graffiti which I have been photographing lately here in Toronto. I have only photographed a minimal amount —–for reasons some of you know— but it will help as a starter. This is an exercise in imagination, faculty crucial to the resolution of conflicts. Politicians may learn this from artists.

Toronto Graffiti

Now imagine yourself walking down a busy downtown area, underneath massive skyscrapers, and finding yourself suddenly impressed by the bluish tones of a sidewalk which has been taken over by a street artist which allows us to reflect on what sidewalks might be good for. What are sidewalks for? Obviously for walking; for safeguarding pedestrians in a world dominated by cars. But you would never know it from what the following street artist, with his exceptional ability, has brought to life. The sidewalk has become the temporary canvas for the appearance of heroes that govern the imagination of many. Batman and Batwoman arise as those heroes who safeguard precisely the common interest of an imaginary city; the conflict-ridden city of Gotham with all its evil Jokers. Check him out and be briefly humbled, let yourself be open to what this artist provides to our city without demanding much in return:

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(For other examples see the graffiti found at Keele metro station, one of the subway stations here in Toronto: [link] )

Perhaps now you understand why I had the need to try to understand my attachment to these artists, though I myself know little of Graffiti and unfortunately could never paint one because of my lacking such amazing abilities. And of course, the issue in question regards ONLY great work by talented artists. We are not speaking here of simple tagging which merely destroys the very possibility of intelligent graffiti by truly creative and thought provoking artists.

And more importantly this walk generates an incisive question: whether Graffiti in particular allows for a reconsideration of the way we understand property rights. To put it very directly; would YOU allow for the presence of such art within your own private area? What would YOU do as political representative if your voters disliked graffiti? To this issue of property we will return below. But the issue of property rights goes beyond the issue of graffiti and therefore this argument might later be extended to other areas. You can think of the following debates: Windows vs. Linux and the GNU project; shareware vs. freeware applications (e.g. such as Photoshop vs. Gimpshop, Open Office vs. Microsoft Office, Pixia vs. Illustrator); ourmedia.org vs. privately owned media; and of course, decisively, political debates regarding the role of property in society and the question of just distribution.

2. The debate

2a. The law

As in all debates two sides deck it out. On the one hand, political representatives in multiple governmental agencies –usually at the level of cities—have sought to produce laws which portray graffiti as a criminal activity. One such example is provided by “New York’s Graffiti Laws”. As the law reads, in some excerpts provided below:

§ 10-117. Defacement of property, possession, sale and display of aerosol spray paint cans, [and] broad tipped markers and etching acid prohibited in certain instances. (my emphasis)
a. No person shall write, paint or draw any inscription, figure or mark of any type on any public or private building or other structure or any other real or personal property owned, operated or maintained by a public benefit corporation, the city of New York or any agency or instrumentality thereof or by any person, firm, or corporation, or any personal property maintained on a city street or other city-owned property pursuant to a franchise, concession or revocable consent granted by the city, unless the express permission of the owner or operator of the property has been obtained (my emphasis)……
§145.05 … a person is guilty of criminal mischief in the third degree when with the intent to damage property of another person, and having no right to do so …. (for the compete law see: “ [link]

This law as well establishes the creation of an “Anti-Graffiti Task Force” whose purpose is to clean the city of graffiti. It: ”assesses the scope and nature of the City’s graffiti problem, examines the effectiveness of existing provisions of law aimed at curbing graffiti vandalism and proposes amendments to strengthen such legislation. (Title 10 § 117.1)”

Now it would be fine and well if we could just destroy the law and consider it simply an arrogant proposition by the citizens who question graffiti, many of whom I am sure are not simply rich folk. But this is a dangerous and self-destructive proposition. Again, just imagine if you —if you indeed own a property— were to see graffiti on YOUR walls. I think at least two things should be pointed out from the law so as to curve the passion and anger of some artists. One the one hand, it clearly specifies that it is applicable “in certain instances”. But the issue is whether politicians, or for that matter the police, are artistically educated so as to judge in which instances Graffiti has in fact broken, or not, this law. A second concern might be that of older graffiti which has already been painted without consent; in New York some have had to actually erase their work if they cannot find the owners who once consented. Perhaps in this case the solution might be to ease the legislation retroactively.

The third problem the law states is much more important, it clearly specifies that the central issue is the damaging of private property. It is against the law to “damage property of another person, and having no right to do so.” Of course, defenders of Graffiti might point out that in many cases, and herein lies a deep irony, they have been asked to paint the very walls which have become their canvases in truly forgotten neighborhoods. One need only recall that Canadian commercial in which an inner city school is compared to jail because of its lack of green spaces, among many other lacks. But isn’t the law blind to a certain reality which street art expresses? Isn’t this particular law somewhat blind as to the more positive role Graffiti may play within a society in crisis? Will erasing walls erase the malaise? Isn’t it clear that some owners may actually want graffiti on their grounds, as is clear from walking around places such as Kensington Market?

2b. The position of one Graffiti artist: Zephyr
[link]

Zephyr, a well-known artist from New York, expresses great concern in a defense he wrote against the city law. I would simply like to point out the idea that Graffiti artists are extremely talented artists, not simply wall painters from a hardware store. If you want to have your house painted, well that almost anyone can do; but to have an engaging mural done, well that very few can do well. These are some of Zephyr’s words:

“The attacks on the graffiti “muralists” is probably the most troubling and disturbing new twist to an already frightening situation. These modern-day Picassos specialize in multi-artist, and sometimes multi-day, productions. Elaborate masterpieces replete with scenes, figures and symbolism. Huge sprawling paint jobs that can run full city blocks. The neighborhoods where they’re most common are neighborhoods where they’re most welcome. Take, for example, the South Bronx. The local communities embrace and protect many of the “graffiti murals” painted there. Many of the works inspire joy and unity-and represent how a simple gesture with the right energy is capable of manifesting a measurable positive transformation on. It is this ability for communities of color to empower themselves through public art, that poses a threat to the racist regime of the Giuliani administration. The right for a community to paint their own neighborhood falls outside this mayor’s fascist rules of “appropriate behavior.” [link]

His acute argumentation is clear. Graffiti artists are amazing artists. This I have tried to portray myself above. However, the very language in which the position is expressed —–allusions to “racist regime” and “fascist rules”—– can only deepen the suspicion of authorities. In this respect both parties can polarize the debate only to the detriment of them both and, specially to the citizens themselves. Much more can and should be said in defense of graffiti and public art, but instead I would like to focus on the question of property itself. (Source of the debate: the incredibly instructive and “featured” article in wikipedia: [link] )

3) Some brief considerations on Graffiti and property

One of the roles of Socratic political philosophy, perhaps the single most important one, is to curb anger. The violence which ensues from enraged parties ruins cities, and even nations. Anger may disrupt the political as no other deeply ingrained emotion can. One need look at my dear Colombia. A political philosopher might aid in reaching alternative positions which may broaden the debate. This is why I want to focus on an issue dear to me as a political philosopher, the question of property.

Since the fortunate, and long awaited fall of communism, the idea of collective property has been shown to be a dangerous and illusory proposition. Stalin was, is and will be a nightmare; as was foreseen by Plato over 2000 years ago. In my dear Colombia, the FARC (infamous Guerrilla forces who tag the walls of my beautiful Bogotá) have not received the message yet. So it seems the permanence of private property has been shown to be crucial to the stability of a functioning society. In general, one could say that there are two broad models of the role private property might have in a given political society. They are not mutually exclusive, but require a certain degree of balancing out for the good of the political community. In this sense there might be two very broad and ideal models for private property. I will call one, the “inward looking” view of property, and the second, the “outward looking” view of private property.

3a. The “inward looking” view of private property

Historically one could consider the work of John Locke as the basis for this perspective on property. It is the founding conception of modern views on the role of property within political society. To put it as briefly as possible, the emergence of modernity goes hand in hand with a given comprehension of private property and the role of the individual with respect to its accumulation and utility. Under this view of private property, emphasis is placed not only on the fact that the property is radically MINE, but in a more radical development, that I am free to do in the private sphere as I desire. We have grown so accustomed to this view that it is hardly seen as problematic, except of course, by those who lack the very private property defended by our liberal societies. It is to something like this conception of property that the political leaders against Graffiti hearken because they obviously see street artists as trespassing what is a fundamentally the possession of each individual citizen. The political sphere, and specially the law and its enforcement organisms, are there precisely to safeguard our private rights. It is therefore no surprise to see graffiti as a criminal activity. The law is clear; graffiti damages the property either of private citizens or of the city itself bent on safeguarding the security of its citizens. And I bet that even graffiti artists will defend this view of property when their own property is actually abused by others. For example, if there were a break in at a graffiti artists’ house, I am pretty sure he/she would call 911.

I say this view of property is “inward looking” for it seems to promote, in a disproportionate manner, the defense of the private over the role of the public; the ‘mine’ overruns the ‘ours’. Contrast the ideal view of healthcare in the US and Canada to have a feel for this. The radicalization of this view can be easily seen in many examples of unquestioned practices which have become normal for us: the impossibility of generating carpooling in North America where possessing a car is the mark of freedom (not to mention in Toronto the lack of funding for PUBLIC transportation), the inward separation of the house into ever more private and inward looking spaces (one constantly hears in North America that young people argue: this is MY room.), the constant search for MY space in interpersonal relationships, a blind eye towards the homeless as radically unsuccessful citizens precisely because they have not been able to create the conditions for a private home(thus burdening individual tax payers who have lost sight of the sense of the whole), the flight to the suburbs where privacy is the dream, and finally, the dismissal of claims of property from Native Americans (see for example James Tully’s powerful Strange multiplicity .)

3b. The “outward looking” view of private property

But there are other traditions of political thought besides this liberal Lockean one. Very briefly, and in very general terms, one could call this view the “outward looking” conception of private property. One could say it is best expressed originally by Aristotle. (See his Politics Book II; a text which lays the foundation for an understanding of the city and its citizens as no other). In discussing private property he argues that the best of possible worlds would be one in which property were actually possessed privately, but could be used publicly.

This view is “outward looking” for, although it likewise safeguards the possession of private property for individual citizens and their families, it nonetheless seeks to reactivate certain interpersonal ties amongst citizens; the ties of generosity and friendship without which a community may not generate the best of conditions for its excelling over others. Under this view, the radical privatization of citizens may lead to the overall malaise of the society of which they themselves are part. Think again of the rush to the suburbs and the creation of inner cities; a problematic which has slowly been changing as a more conscious model of the interrelation of citizens has been taken up. In a sense, politically speaking, we are of the city, rather the city simply being for us. It is in this respect that the city I was born in, Bogotá, has become a model for the developing capitals of the world. This is due to its civic education model, its concern for the public space, and its demand for a redressing of class inequalities. (exemplified in its model public transportation system ––called Transmilenio—, its gorgeous public libraries, and its Sunday bike day where millions take over the city street in bikes). The city as a whole becomes healthier, beautified and populated by better citizens capable of taking on –as intelligent and alert citizens should– a questioning perspective.

Now, if all this is even partially true, then graffiti allows us to
break down the usual way of perceiving property simply as that which is my own. Mothers may teach us to share as kids; but they seem to be fighting a loosing battle in our society. Street artists, I repeat, particularly the great ones— seek to make art become public at the very edge where the private meets the public. By placing their work at this border (the wall is private, but the message is public) they call our attention to the dilemmas previously noted. They might just be reminding us that the city is more than the sum of its individual houses and privatized walls.

To rephrase it; what seems to be terribly uncomfortable about graffiti is that it lies in a privately-owned wall, but its expression is simultaneously meant to grab the attention of ANY public citizen walking the city streets. Now, if our society is one which concerns itself simply with an “inward looking” view of private property, then of course, graffiti is seen ONLY as damaging and criminal. But if our society recognizes the value of private property, AND AT THE SAME TIME concedes that our modern malaise may lie precisely in not having concerned itself with other possible, and perhaps more “generous” relations to property, then the common interest of the city and its good may start to become a central concern for us all. Graffiti in this respect would be both pointing to the tension and to its solution, for it beautifies the whole city by giving expression to an “outward looking” perspective of property which might provide the conditions for the good of many, if not all.

4. Conclusion

To conclude, perhaps the debate can become more interesting and open-minded if both parties recognize the different view of property they emphasize. In this respect the city has every right to protect its citizens from unwanted graffiti; and at the same time graffiti artists must seek to convince other citizens to allow for the creation of their paintings in the shared public space. The crucial problem is with that graffiti which already exists; those works must be looked and assessed by dealing with each particular case to see which stays and which goes. Graffiti artists must be willing to take the time to argue for some of their creations. For instance, the graffiti at “Keele station” is now a landmark; this is also true of the work found in unique and historical “Kensington market”. Others might go, and yet others might stay. And perhaps those who know the city well –usually dedicated politicians— can provide artists with other spaces to express themselves and reach out to the community. (Of course, sending the best of graffiti artists to an “indoor” warehouse does not work, precisely because the issue is the outward looking public space; however, this might help for aspiring graffiti artists who want to practice their skills.)

In sum, this journal has tried to understand —-at least in small part and by someone who is neither a politician nor a graffiti artist—- the debate over graffiti and its possible positive role within our cities. By letting ourselves be open to its appearance, it reminds us of possibilities regarding our own unquestioned understandings of property which might make of our cities, and of us involved citizens —the very life of cities— much more outward-looking, solidarity-prone and generous beings. In this respect, perhaps the street artist AND the city may find some common ground from which to resolve their impasse in favor of the benefit, not of this or that faction, but of the community as a whole. Will we be able to find our common interest, acknowledge it, and work to understand the basis from which each position springs? Or, will we make the problematic idea presented by Plato —expelling the poets from the city—a reality in the 21st century?

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LENGUAJE(S), IDENTIDAD Y DIFERENCIA EN LA

TEORÍA POLÍTICA DE JEAN-JACQUES ROUSSEAU

 

I. INTRODUCCIÓN

La visión del lenguaje en la teoría política de Jean-Jacques Rousseau no sólo es rica en contenido, sino además central para la comprensión de nuestra presente crisis de legitimidad. Para Rousseau el lenguaje es parte constitutiva de lo que hemos, históricamente, llegado a ser. Es a través del lenguaje que clarificamos y articulamos críticamente nuestra relación de autenticidad personal, la relación de solidaridad con los demás en el ámbito político, y por último, la relación con la naturaleza como fuente de expresión moderna. Al entrever tales relaciones podemos llegar a comprender, así sea parcialmente, lo que hemos sido, somos, y podemos llegar a ser.

Charles Taylor ha argumentado que Rousseau es uno de los principales inauguradores de una tradición política característicamente moderna, a saber, aquella fundada sobre la dignidad egalitaria basada a su vez en la idea de que todos los humanos somos dignos de respeto. Esto se ejemplifica en la noción de que “la clave para Rousseau de una república libre parece ser una exclusión de cualquier diferencia de roles” (*1). Dicha perspectiva se encuentra en tensión con la tradición contemporánea de una política de la diferencia, tradición crítica del proyecto de homogeneización y pretendida neutralidad del liberalismo en una de sus variantes. Sin embargo, como veremos, la posición de Rousseau es significativamente mucho más compleja. Contiene ella múltiples elementos que sin duda pertenecen al ámbito de lo que se ha llamado una política de la diferencia. Pero ella no deja de estar en tensión con la corriente que Taylor resalta, la de la universalidad egalitaria fundada sobre proyectos comunes de una voluntad general altamente indiferenciada.

Esta dialéctica se da primeramente ya que para Rousseau “las lenguas se forman naturalmente sobre las necesidades de los hombres; cambian y se alteran según los cambios de esas mismas necesidades” (EOL, XX). Estas necesidades, y las pasiones humanas más complejas, no sólo se transforman históricamente sino igualmente en relación con condiciones espaciales específicas. Por ello los lenguajes mismos están colocados dentro de diferentes dimensiones espacio-temporales (EOL VIII). Es así como el lenguaje que compartimos no sólo es constitutivo de que lo hemos llegado a ser dentro de múltiples sistemas políticos, sino que además la presencia de dicho lenguaje nuestro, y no de otro, afecta radicalmente la manera en que percibimos tanto comunidades lingüísticas existentes diferentes a la nuestra, como comunidades ya extintas. Además, dicha pluralidad es igualmente clave, no sólo para la comprensión de la fortaleza de la música en la visión rousseauiana y su relación con la política del lenguaje, sino también, como veremos, para la clarificación y redefinición de las múltiples familias de lenguaje que conforman nuestro lenguaje político moderno tal y como aparecen entrelazados en el Contrato Social (CS). Por ello el mundo de Rousseau, para bien, o muy probablemente para mal, está constituido por una multiplicidad de modos de experienciar; en germen presenta una política de la diferencia. Rousseau “ha absorbido los lenguajes del pasado …… para dar voz a un nuevo lenguaje” (Starob, 323).

Sin embargo esta multiplicidad no ha de llevarnos necesariamente a una concepción radicalmente relativista de la realidad política. Esto es así ya que subyacendo a la diversidad de formaciones lingüísticas (y la paralela diferenciación de formaciones socio-políticas y de modos de producción (EOL IX)) yace la universalidad, a la que todos podemos acceder, de la voz de la naturaleza. La pluralidad es en parte el resultado de una serie de eventos catastróficos en la naturaleza que hicieron posible el desarrollo de la potencialidad inherente hacia el perfección que es característica de los seres humanos desde su origen. No cabe duda alguna que aquella condición primigenia la hemos perdido para siempre (si es que en verdad existió alguna vez), pero independientemente de lo des-naturalizados e inauténticos que hayamos llegado a ser, la voz de la naturaleza todavía habla, a través de, y para todos. Igualmente participamos de ella universalmente. Rousseau se jacta de ser precisamente él quien en particular profundiza en escuchar dicha voz; es ella su única recompensa (DCA, 2). También el Contrato Social va más allá de la simple relatividad facilista pues nos abre a un ideal política por medio del cual se pueden juzgar formaciones y organizaciones sociales existentes (Starob, 301). Y aparte de la existencia de este ideal, la misma pluralidad de lenguajes que encontramos analizados allí está claramente jerarquizada; hecho que nos permite hablar de un respeto por la diferencia, más no de una tolerancia del perspectivismo simplista.

Para llevar a cabo esta investigación, que para Rousseau involucra un recuperar y un re-escuchar la historia de nuestra caída, propongo dividir este ensayo en cinco secciones que, aunque separadas, permanecen íntimamente interrelacionadas. Para dilucidar las primeras cuatro retomaré algunos de los puntos centrales que se hayan tanto en el Discurso sobre el origen y los fundamentos de la desigualdad entre los hombres (DOD), como en el Ensayo sobre el origen de las lenguas (EOL). Acerca de pocos otros textos podría uno decir que la comprensión del uno requiere de una cuidadosa lectura del otro. La mayor diferencia entre ellos radica en su énfasis. Mientras que el DOD coloca la problemática del lenguaje dentro del más amplio tópico del desarrollo histórico de la desigualdad politico-económica, el EOL por su parte invierte los papeles colocando al lenguaje, y su relación con la expresividad musical, al frente.

La afinidad entre ambas obras es impresionante. En primer lugar, y éste es el primer punto a tratar en este ensayo, ambos hablan directamente de la problemática de los orígenes. Al hacerlo nos presentan estos textos con un “método” para la comprensión del fenómeno de la génesis. En segundo lugar, y este será el tema de las tres siguientes secciones, ambos colocan al lenguaje, y la paralela formación de estructuras socio-políticas correspondientes, dentro de un marco histórico que en su movimiento trágico es representable de mejor manera, no como el espiral hegeliano ascendente, sino como una espiral en caída (*2). Como humanos habitábamos en silencio en la prehistoria escuchando la voz de la naturaleza; nuestra historia termina en un nuevo silencio, pero irónicamente en medio de la existencia de una pluralidad de lenguajes convencionales radicalmente empobrecidos (EOL XX) (*3). Además, si el estado natural era uno de igualdad en términos de libertad natural y capacidad de perfeccionamiento, nuestro estado actual civilizado lleva a una igualdad, pero en cadenas: “el hombre ha nacido libre pero por todas partes está encadenado” (CS, I *1).

Este pesimismo radical no escapa tampoco al Contrato Social, pero como señalaré en la quinta sección, Rousseau retoma los plurales lenguajes políticos de la modernidad ——-el republicano, el del contrato social y el del interés—— para comprender nuestra compleja situación. De nuevo la pluralidad será desligada del relativismo gracias a la primacía de uno de estos lenguajes, el republicano. Para Rousseau la salud del cuerpo político, que de todas maneras esta destinado a fallecer, se haya sólo en proyectos comunes dirigidos por una voluntad general que supere facciones conflictivas. En caso contrario, es decir, “cuando la relación social está rota en todos los corazones, cuando el más vil interés se adorna descaradamente con el nombre del bien público, entonces la voluntad general se vuelve muda” (CS, IV *1). La pluralidad lingüística puede entonces terminar simplemente enmudeciendo y ensordeciendo.

II. EL LENGUAJE DE LOS ORÍGENES

La búsqueda de orígenes es un tema central que encontramos en particular en el DOD y el EOL. Una primera reacción a dicho proyecto podría bien ser de sospecha. Esto es así ya que podría ser un proyecto confundido que simplemente busca escapar de las exigencias de la presente realidad, conformándose con la tranquilidad de una inalcanzable “época dorada”; una época de ensueños en el pasado que añoramos incesantemente.

Pero Rousseau está muy lejos de tal proyecto ‘romántico’. Para él, muy como en Nietzsche, volcamos la mirada al origen no con el propósito de permanecer en perpetua desesperanza de nuestra presente situación. Por el contrario, es de hecho mirando hacia estos puntos genéticos que podemos llegar a comprender nuestra constitución actual. El presente es problematizado (*1). Por su parte el pasado permanece muerto, pero sus interpretaciones pueden decirnos algo acerca de cómo es que hemos devenido lo que somos.

El que Rousseau está, en primer lugar, no tanto interesado en la veracidad y verificabilidad de su marco metodológico, sino más bien en presentar un diagnóstico crítico de la modernidad, y en segundo lugar, muy interesado en reconocer las dificultades inherentes a dicho proyecto, son dos puntos que están claramente presentadas en el prefacio al DOD:

“pues no es empresa ligera la de separar lo que hay de original y de artificial en la actual naturaleza del hombre y conocer bien un estado que ya no existe, que quizá no ha existido, que probablemente no existirá jamás y del cual, sin embargo, es necesario tener nociones ajustadas a fin de juzgar con exactitud nuestro estado presente” (DOD, 111, mi énfasis) (*2)

Aquí yace la base para una posible interpretación de la intención que Rousseau tiene. Como él nos lo dice, aún cuando el punto original “nunca haya existido”, es sin embargo todavía “necesario” tener claridad, por lo menos, acerca de su posibilidad hipotético-imaginativa. La historia del desarrollo del lenguaje y de las formaciones sociales tiene como fin investigativo el desenmascaramiento de unas acciones encubridoras que han llegado a gobernar la realidad de las modernos estados comerciales. Estos últimos, en comparación a la salud primitiva, han degenerado hasta tal punto que se puede afirmar que “la mayoría de nuestros males son obra nuestra, y los habríamos evitado casi todos si hubiéramos conservado el modo de vida simple, uniforme y solitario que nos prescribió la naturaleza” (DOD, 127). Incluso el método conjetural lleva en sí una carga normativa; la de restituir la virtud en los que para Rousseau son Estados ‘afeminados’ que, a diferencia de los ideales de Esparta y Roma, no conocen las palabras magnanimidad, equidad, templanza, humanidad, y coraje (DCA, 29).

Se podría pensar que hay aquí una contradicción entre la dicotomía, por un lado del “nunca ha existido” tal estado, y por otro su “necesidad” de comprensión. Pero no es así. Lo que Rousseau pretende en su investigación de orígenes no es una verdad objetiva a la medida de la ciencia mecanicista, sino una verdad narrativo-interpretativa. El mismo es el primero en reconocer que está inevitablemente constituido por las relaciones históricas que son características de la modernidad ilustrada. Su visión del pasado por lo tanto necesariamente involucra una especie de proceso selectivo que no puede ser evitado. (*3). Por ello Rousseau nos dice que en referencia al origen del lenguaje “el gran defecto de los europeos es filosofar siempre sobre los orígenes de las cosas según lo que sucede a su alrededor” (EOL, VIII) (*4). Este “problema” está claramente ejemplificado, entre otras, en las diferentes concepciones del estado de naturaleza que otros teóricos políticos han postulado; en particular el de Hobbes en el cual el hombre es un lobo para el hombre. Estos escritores, para Rousseau, simplemente han transferido concepciones modernas como las del orgullo, la avaricia, la arrogancia y la opresión a un estado en donde no existían inicialmente. (DOD, 124 y 147)

Que tanto nuestra perspectiva teórica, como nuestra realidad histórica, son elementos esenciales al determinar qué veremos, y qué es aquello que consideraremos de valor en el mundo y la historia, es claramente explicitado por Rousseau en el EOL donde señala que “para apreciar bien las acciones de los hombres, es necesario tomarlas en todas sus relaciones, y es esto lo que no se nos enseña a hacer. Cuando nos ponemos en el lugar de los demás, no nos volvemos lo que ellos deben ser, sino permanecemos nosotros mismos modificados” (EOL, XI). Apropiadamente nos da entonces un ejemplo de aquello a lo que se refiere. El fanatismo islámico “nos parece siempre risible, porque entre nosotros no tiene voz para hacerse oír” (ibid.). Por lo anterior es claro que existe en Rousseau, metodológicamente hablando, una multiplicidad de modos de experienciar que rompen con una postura homogeneizante y etnocentrista.

Pero lo que es sin duda lo más excitante, o tal vez el error más grande de la concepción rousseauiana de las cosas, es que, aun cuando reconociendo la existencia de una multiplicidad de formas de vida, él todavía es capaz de reunir en sí —–en su originalidad—– el suficiente poder y la suficiente fortaleza para argumentar que su obra transciende la pluralidad en virtud de que está dirigida a la totalidad de seres humanos, todos los cuales estamos constituidos por la voz natural primigenia. Claro, todos la podemos y de hecho la escuchamos de maneras diferentes, allí radica precisamente nuestra autenticidad personal (*5), pero la voz de la naturaleza no distingue entre lenguajes o posiciones teóricas. Uno podría llegar incluso a decir que por su naturaleza rechaza la diferenciación de lenguas. Por ello para Rousseau, aun cuando existe una relatividad de formaciones socio-linguísticas, todavía existe un criterio universal que subyace el poder ser considerado como ser humano bueno. Los humanos son en este sentido iguales irrespectivamente del sitio de origen y de sus conocimientos. Tal vez no entienda tus palabras, pero en tanto agente perfeccionable y sensible que soy, yo puedo dejar de lado las palabras para darme cuenta que comparto en lo que tu eres también. Antes que filósofos somos seres humanos. (DOD, 115). Es sin duda que por ello Rousseau nos dice a todos:

“Oh hombre, de cualquier comarca que seas, cualquiera que sean tus opiniones; he aquí tu historia como yo he creído leerla , no en los libros de tus semejantes —que mienten— sino en la naturaleza, que no miente nunca. Todo lo que proviene de ella será verdadero; no habrá más falsedad que en lo que yo haya podido mezclar de mis cosecha sin quererlo” (DOD, 120-1).

Rousseau no tiene solamente una pseudo-base empírica para su proyecto en la vida de los Amerindios (que sin embargo tampoco son exactamente habitantes del estado de naturaleza pura), sino mucho más importante, él, y cada uno de nosotros si prestamos oído, tenemos la real y tangible inmediatez de nuestro propio y único ser interior (*6). La voz de la naturaleza ha buscado expresarse a través de Rousseau. Pero sin duda tal recuperación, en parte poético-imaginativa, es necesariamente un recuperar adulterado: “Rousseau no puede estar inconsciente de que diciendo que la vida natural es la buena vida (nota; si es que eso es lo que está diciendo), está destruyendo el silencio de la naturaleza, alienándonos de la naturaleza con palabras” (Starob, 303). Recuperamos no la inmediatez de la naturaleza; es más bien la recuperación de la naturaleza a través del estado presente para que, a través de una crítica de este mismo presente, podamos socráticamente conocernos mejor a nosotros mismos, y así no sólo aceptar nuestra encrucijada sino emprender la búsqueda de puentes futuros más allá de todo origen legendario. (DOD 109)

III. ASPECTOS CENTRALES DEL LENGUAJE

Habiendo reseñado algunos de los aspectos centrales de la “metodología” de Rousseau, quisiera ahora examinar brevemente en esta sección, la importancia de considerar al lenguaje como objeto de estudio.

El párrafo que abre el EOL nos da en su brevedad asombrosa cuatro e interrelacionadas razones acerca del por qué debemos estar interesados en el tema del lenguaje. En primer lugar, el habla es la característica que distingue a los seres humanos de todas las demás seres naturales. (*1). Además, cada ser humano particular nace ‘accidentalmente’ dentro de una comunidad lingüística particular; los lenguajes distinguen a los pueblos. En tercer lugar, Rousseau señala que el lenguaje es la primera institución social. Es gracias a la existencia de otros que tiene sentido el lograr el habla; sin la presencia de seres prestos a oírme la posibilidad del lenguaje se hace inconcebible. Finalmente, este párrafo señala que el habla debe su origen tan sólo a causas naturales.

Una relación cuádruple se despliega. Nuestro interés por el lenguaje está motivado por la universalidad del compartir de todos en el lenguaje; incluso en los casos de los gestos, el ser seres lingüísticos nos lleva ya más allá de lo animal. (*2) El toque físico y los gestos yacen, sin duda, a la base de las relaciones interpersonales. Pero si bien el origen de los gestos se funda en las necesidades básicas, a la base del habla encontramos las pasiones morales humanas. El surgimiento del habla, y luego de la escritura, requiere que vayamos más allá de la satisfacción inmediata de las simples necesidades físicas (*3). El habla tiene un poder moral, el de movernos y persuadirnos: “supongamos una situación de dolor perfectamente conocida; al ver a la persona afligida difícilmente nos conmoveremos hasta llorar, pero démosle el tiempo de decir todo lo que siente y pronto estaremos anegados en lágrimas” (EOL, I) (*4). Pero además, este interés por el lenguaje es también particular. Esto es así ya que un grupo de seres históricos dado comparte un lenguaje histórico específico que, comprendido en su contexto, les provee en un sentido amplio con un noción de identidad (*5). El lenguaje también es el medio a través del cual nos hacemos re-conocer por los demás. Para Rousseau, “tan pronto como un hombre fue reconocido por otro como ser que siente, piensa y semejante a él, el deseo o la necesidad de comunicarle su sentimientos y sus pensamientos, le hizo buscar los medios para lograr tal comunicación” (EOL, I). Tal reconocimiento se hace central en el espacio público político. El lenguaje es precisamente el medio de consentimiento contractual; sólo a través de su riqueza, legitimidad y autenticidad se hace posible una verdadera vida política. Igualmente el lenguaje de la elocuencia es central para la vida del ethos republicano; en particular, el legislador debe conocer las pasiones humanas para convencer y persuadir al ciudadano hacia el bien común (CS II, *7). Finalmente el cuarto ángulo que se despliega de este breve párrafo señala el hecho de que la modernidad no puede tomar como dado la perspectiva divina del nacimiento del lenguaje. El lenguaje tiene su origen en eventos naturales, de hecho es en el punto de origen en el que la naturaleza nos hablaba directamente, en nuestra interioridad. Debemos prepararnos no tanto para hablar, como para saber escuchar. Precisamente es esa incapacidad para escuchar la enfermedad terminal de los modernos: “vuestras lenguas débiles no pueden hacerse oír al aire libre, pensáis más en vuestras ganancias que en vuestra libertad, y teméis mucho menos a la esclavitud que a la miseria” (CS, III, *15).

IV. ESTADOS DE NATURALEZA Y PASTORAL Y SUS LENGUAJES

Por estas razones es imperativo mirar el desarrollo histórico del lenguaje y sus correspondientes formaciones sociales. En el origen encontramos a los seres humanos primitivos regidos por la inmediatez (EOL II; DOD 162). Estos humanos originales son completamente autosuficientes, verdaderos solitarios nómadas. Pero no por autónomos en su primitivismo, dejaron de tener ya una tendencia hacia la sociabilidad: “y aun cuando sus semejantes no fuesen para él lo que son para nosotros …… no fueron olvidados en sus observaciones” (DOD, 164). Dado que sus necesidades físicas básicas eran fácilmente saciadas, entonces si algún tipo de comunicación hubiese sido posible en aquella distante época, lo hubiese sido de carácter gesticular. Tanto las pasiones complejas, como el habla son inexistentes pues ni siquiera las uniones familiares han surgido. Somos apasionados por y gracias a otros. Por lo tanto para Rousseau esta realidad de necesidades mínimas lleva a la separación: “Se pretende que los hombres inventaron la palabra para expresar sus necesidades, opinión que me parece insostenible. El efecto natural de las primeras necesidades fue el de separar a los hombres y no el de aproximarlos (EOL, II) (*1). Sin embargo, aunque separados, incluso a este nivel podemos hablar ya de un lenguaje en virtud a la clase de seres que somos. La voz de la naturaleza es un lenguaje universal caracterizado por tres elementos: a) su persuasión que nos conmueve (EOL, IV), b) su fortaleza que logra captar nuestro interés (EOL, I ), y por último, c) su uso intermitente, surge en ocasiones especiales (EOL, II). En este momento de nuestra historia el lenguaje y la naturaleza permanecen indiferenciables pues se hayan ambos entremezclados en nosotros. Y tal armonía se da además porque este periodo está marcado por la ausencia absoluta de la escasez territorial o alimenticia. La concordia reina ya que, aunque para cada individuo es cierto que la naturaleza “ejercita el cuerpo para la fortaleza, la agilidad y la carrera; el alma a la valentía y la astucia; endurece al hombre y lo hace feroz” (EOL, IX, 50), dicha ferocidad surge sólo en casos de autodefensa. Dada la existencia de un extenso bosque primigenio (EOL, IX 38-39 y DOD, 162), entonces la ferocidad era puesta en jaque por las posibilidades del movimiento nómada. Si soy atacado puedo ir a otra lugar y continuar allí mi simple vida de autosuficiencia.

Los humanos primitivos son por ello mismo seres altamente sanos, no comparten lo que para Rousseau es nuestra enfermiza reflexividad (DOD, 129). Su bienestar nace del hecho de que no existe ninguna discrepancia entre la necesidad y el deseo: “el deseo circunscrito por el momento presente nunca excede la necesidad; la necesidad, inspirada por nada más que la naturaleza es satisfecha tan rápidamente que el sentimiento de deseo nunca surge” (Starob, 293; DOD 55). No existe noción alguna de temporalidad, y por ello la totalidad de la historia individual yace en el instante. Consecuentemente no hay previsión, ni mucho menos pensamientos de la propia mortalidad.

Además, el ser primitivo es característicamente a-moral. Los dictados morales requieren de un consenso y del la comprensión de conceptos abstractos tales como los de justicia y responsabilidad. Y dado que dicho acto y dicho lenguaje no es necesario a este nivel, la moralidad no es articulada en su complejidad. Pero sin embargo permanecemos incluso a este nivel, como claramente diferenciables de los animales. A diferencia de los últimos somos seres libres, somos morales en potencia. Los animales aceptan o no por instinto, los humanos, en cambio, lo hacemos únicamente por un acto de libertad. Hasta nuestro más lejano pariente primitivo “se reconoce libre para asentir o resistir; y es en esta conciencia de esta libertad donde se muestra la espiritualidad de su alma” (DOD, 132). Esta libertad no es nada diferente a la expresión de la naturaleza particular de este ser único capaz de escuchar la voz de la naturaleza que no es nada diferente a su voz interior: “ya incluso antes de que el hombre primitivo comience a reflexionar, la naturaleza deja de ser simplemente un problema de condicionamiento físico. No siendo más un irresistible impulso, deviene un lenguaje interno, un lenguaje al que el hombre presta atención porque se habla dentro de él” (Starob, 306). El mayor acto de libertad es pues el de la perfección potencial que escogemos.

El sentimiento de preservación personal está aquí moderado, a diferencia de la concepción hobbesiana, por el sentimiento de la piedad. Es éste un sentimiento que es parte de nuestro corazón y que surge al activarse la imaginación pudiendo por ello colocarnos comparativamente en la posición del otro (EOL IX). Los seres humanos primitivos son seres piadosos; la inmediatez de la voz de la naturaleza es lo que hace que no se lleven a la destrucción mutua: “parece que si estoy obligado a no hacer daño a mi semejante, no es tanto porque sea un ser racional sino porque es un ser sensible” (DOD 115). Y dado que la piedad precede a la reflexión, entonces su universalidad nos lleva más allá de la multiplicidad de lenguajes convencionales; la benevolencia habla en Esperanto. La solidaridad, central para la república, es posible ya que la piedad es una “virtud tanto más universal y tanto más útil al hombre cuanto que ella antecede al uso de toda reflexión” (DOD, 149). Finalmente, los humanos a este nivel están caracterizados por su ocio. Su máxima principal radica, a diferencia de la de las sociedades comerciales, en “no hacer nada (que) es la más fuerte pasión del hombre, después de la de conservarse” (EOL, IX, 52). Rousseau resume de manera hermosa las principales características del hombre primitivo en un pasaje del DOD:

“el arte perecía con el inventor. No había ni educación ni progreso, las generaciones se multiplicaban inútilmente y, partiendo cada uno del mismo punto, los siglos pasaban en toda la rudeza de las primeras edades; la especie era ya vieja y el hombre permanecía siempre niño.” (DOD, 157) (*2)

Dejando un poco de lado la pregunta acerca de cómo pudimos salir de este estado paradisiaco, podemos mirar ahora la segunda etapa de nuestra larga historia; la de la transición hacia la verdadera época del equilibrio, la de las sociedades pastorales-patriarcales (EOL, IX). (*3) A este nivel al lenguaje doméstico han sido incorporados tanto el lenguaje natural interior como el gesticular. Hemos sido des-naturalizados, pero no completamente civilizados. El DOD nos ofrece una descripción narrativa: “fue ésta la época de la primera revolución que conformó el establecimiento y la distinción de las familias y que introdujo un tipo de propiedad, de las que probablemente nacieron gran número de querellas (166). (*4). Aunque existía un cierto tipo de propiedad ——no la misma propiedad privada que Rousseau analizará posteriormente siguiendo a Locke—— todavía seguía existiendo suficiente tierra para desplazarse fácilmente en caso de necesidad. Es gracias a esto que se puede decir que en este momento “por todas partes reinaba un estado de guerra, y toda la tierra estaba en paz” (EOL, XI, 46). Rousseau mismo se cuestiona acerca de cómo pudimos emerger de tal condición feliz:

“Supongamos una perpetua primavera sobre la tierra; supongamos por todas partes agua, ganado, pastizales; supongamos a los hombres que salen de manos de la naturaleza … no imagino cómo habrían renunciado jamás a su vida aislada y pastoral tan conveniente a su indolencia natural, para imponerse sin necesidad la esclavitud, los trabajos y las miserias inseparables del estado social” (EOL, IX, 52)

¿Cómo se rompe tal equilibrio, tal paz universal?

Para Rousseau, aparte de múltiples catástrofes naturales, surge lo que es una verdadera catástrofe humana. Con el paso de los siglos nos hicimos, poco a poco, más y más dependientes de los demás. Ya incluso en la etapa patriarcal, con el surgimiento de un mayor ocio, tuvimos nuevas comodidades desconocidas; fueron ellas “el primer yugo que se impusieron sin pensar en ello y la primera fuente de males” (DOD, 167). Una de las principales necesidades novedosas surgió de nuestra naturaleza pasional. Si antes “l’amour de soi meme” era natural y nos daba independencia, ahora “l’amour propre” convencional nos hace compararnos constantemente con los demás. Nuestro orgullo está fuera de nosotros. Pero acerca del valor esta nueva estima a partir del otro, Rousseau continuamente es ambivalente: “es a este interés en hacer hablar de sí mismo, a este furor por distinguirse, (lo) que nos tiene casi continuamente fuera de nosotros, a quien debemos lo que hay de mejor y peor entre los hombres” (DOD 197). Como señala Taylor, Rousseau no simplemente denuncia el valor de la estimación pública, como si lo hacen tanto el cristianismo y estoicismo, como la ética aristocrática que ve en el orgullo la fuente de desigualdades. Para Rousseau el ethos republicano requiere de una suprema actividad de la aparición pública de los virtuosos (Taylor, 49).

Es al investigar el surgimiento de los lenguajes meridionales que se nos revela esta ambivalencia que permea la obra de Rousseau. Señala él cómo en aquellos lugares en donde la escasez de agua era una condición natural “era preciso reuinirse para cavarlos o al menos para ponerse de acuerdo para su uso. Tal debió ser el origen de las sociedades y de las lenguas en los países cálidos” (EOL, IX, 60). Y en aquellos lugares donde abundaba el agua, en hogares rústicos “brilla(ba) el fuego sagrado que lleva al fondo de los corazones el primer sentimiento de la humanidad” (ibid., 56). Nuestras necesidades devienen pues cada vez más complejas, el constante ver al otro hace inevitable el surgimiento del deseo del otro. Lentamente salimos inevitablemente del paraíso del ideal primitivo solitario en donde los encuentros sexuales eran ocasionales. Paulatinamente dejamos para siempre nuestra vida solitaria en que la voz de la naturaleza nos hablaba directamente. Ahora deseamos hablar a y escuchar otro tipo de voz, una voz humana; y mejor aún si ésta es capaz además de dar expresión a la voz de la naturaleza misma, aunque modificada. En un pasaje hermoso Rousseau señala este proceso de interacción:

“el agua se hace imperceptiblemente más necesaria, el ganado tuvo sed más a menudo; se llegaba a prisa y se partía a disgusto … allí se hicieron las primeras fiestas, los pies saltaban de alegría, el gesto diligente ya no bastaba, la voz lo acompañaba con acentos apasionados, el placer y el deseo se hacían sentir simultáneamente. Allí estuvo en fin la verdadera cuna de los pueblos, y del cristal puro de las fuentes surgieron los primeros fuegos de amor” (EOL IX, 61)

La existencia de un nivel pasional bajo, y la presencia de necesidades sencillas, mantenían el equilibrio pseudo-humano de la etapa anterior. Ahora sin duda hemos ido mucho más allá al comenzar el ambiguo proceso de perfeccionamiento de la especie. Pero para Rousseau desafortunadamente nuestro movimiento es en su mayoría descendente. Esta época lleva en su nacimiento los elementos de su disolución. Comenzamos a mirar hacia afuera para ver que se exige de nosotros mismos en vez de mirar a nuestra interioridad deviniendo lo que la voz de la naturaleza deseaba que fuésemos:

“se acostumbra uno a considerar objetos diferentes y a hacer comparaciones; se adquieren insensiblemente las ideas de mérito y belleza que producen los sentimientos de preferencia ….. cada cual comienza a contemplar los otros y a querer ser contemplado el mismo, con lo que la estima pública tiene un precio. Aquel que canta o danza mejor, el más bello, el más fuerte, el más diestro o el más elocuente se convierte en el más considerado. Este fue el primer paso hacia la desigualdad y , al mismo tiempo, hacia el vicio (DOD 168-9).

El resultado final es la instauración de un estado hobbesiano en que el hombre es un lobo para el hombre: “castigando cada uno el desprecio que se le había hecho …….. las venganzas se tornaron terribles y los hombres más sanguinarios y crueles” (DOD. 169-70). Pero gracias, como dijimos a la facilidad de movilidad, durante esta época todavía reinaba la paz.

El que ésta sea una época dorada es claramente visto si consideramos la visión del lenguaje que le corresponde. Como vimos, el primer lenguaje fue el de la voz de la naturaleza. En este momento casi que ahistórico, mundo y yo era uno y lo mismo. No se tenía la capacidad de designar cosas fuera de sí, ni siquiera a sí mismo con pronombres como ‘yo’. A lo sumo se producían gritos animales. Pero con el desarrollo del lenguaje ya surgieron palabras y articulaciones cada vez más complejas. Y lo que es más importante, estas palabras en un principio no designaban un objeto real existente ya que el primer lenguaje fue figurativo. Las expresiones fueron primero metafóricas y sólo después llegaron a tener una significación literal. El ser primitivo ya más desarrollado, no veía en sus caminatas otros iguales a si, sino ‘gigantes’ que le amenazaban. Sólo posteriormente reconoció su error, un error que Rousseau atribuye a las pasiones: “he aquí como nace la palabra figurada antes que la palabra propia: cuando la pasión hechiza nuestros ojos y la primera idea que nos ofrece no es la verdad” (EOL, III). Queda clara la supremacía del poder expresivo del lenguaje sobre su poder designativo (*5). Y no sólo ésto, las primeras palabras fueron cantadas, no recitadas, y escritas en verso, no en prosa. La fuerza de Homero radica en pertenecer a una cultura oral (EOL, VI) (*6).

El lenguaje de las sociedades patriarcales es uno de equilibrio jerarquizado; por una parte ha sido desnaturalizado y por ende es más que un simple grito animal, pero a la vez no ha devenido totalmente civilizado, por ello no ha perdido aún la riqueza de su sonido y acento. En este momento histórico las funciones referenciales del lenguaje, es decir, su capacidad para designar el mundo fuera de nosotros, y además el elemento expresivo de éste, es decir, su capacidad para articular nuestras más interiores necesidades, pasiones y proyectos, están “fusionados” juntos en un poderoso y trastocador lenguaje melódico rico en su poder persuasivo. El poder persuasivo inmediato de la voz de la naturaleza impregna las palabras cantadas, pero éstas también logran cumplir su rol designativo que posibilita la diferenciación entre el mundo, el yo y los otros. Es un equilibrio ya que el yo se expresa a través de este lenguaje que es a su vez el medio para la designación del mundo que compartimos con los demás. Y dado que la designación es de hecho melódica, entonces el yo puede transformar su posibilidades de auto-expresión. Para Starobinsky:

“Las funciones expresivas y referenciales no están todavía separadas. Aunque sacado de el ámbito de la inmediatez, el hombre todavía forja un instrumento capaz de restaurar la inmediatez …. Se aventura más allá de las fronteras del yo, sólo para ofrecerse a los demás a través del lenguaje. Y se hace consciente de su propia existencia por medio de la constante presencia emocional que anima su discurso” (Starob, 318)

Las familias patriarcales lograron, según Rousseau, incorporar los breves gritos y gestos de los cazadores a un complejo lenguaje acentuado, fluido, melodioso y pasional. Permanece éste como ideal y tarea, incluso para la sociedad civil actual. ¿Cuál tarea? La de juntar la riqueza expresiva y designativa del discurso melódico dentro del ámbito político desarrollado. Tal lenguaje podría forjar, educar y mover a los ciudadanos necesarios para cimentar el ethos participativo de una verdadera república. Tal lenguaje sería en verdad un lenguaje elocuente. Pero el “progreso” del lenguaje conlleva, para Rousseau, a una caída estructural y una diferenciación histórica que hace cada vez más difícil darse cuenta que debajo de la pluralidad permanece la universal y ahora casi imperceptible voz de la naturaleza.

Para esclarecer el problema de la diferenciación lingüística es necesario recuperar ideas presente en el EOL. Allí Rousseau nos da un muy interesante relato acerca de la diversificación de discursos al hacer referencia a las diferencias entre los lenguajes meridionales y los del norte. Primero que todo, a la base del desarrollo lingüístico es claro que encontramos condiciones naturales materiales, no hay para el lenguaje ningún ‘deux ex machina’: “sea entonces que se busque el origen de las artes o que se observen las primeras costumbres, se pone de manifiesto siempre que todo se relaciona en sus principios con los medios de atender a la subsistencia” (EOL, IX, 59). En consecuencia, dado que los factores climáticos son más nobles con los sureños, uno puede casi concluir que las necesidades dieron pie al surgimiento de las pasiones. Por ello los lenguajes meridionales son acentuados, melodiosos y ricos; y precisamente por ello hasta oscuros (*7). Por el contrario en el norte las condiciones naturales eran tales que la inmediata gratificación de las necesidades primarias no es algo que ha de esperarse; las pasiones limitadas. Por ende los lenguajes norteños son aburridos, duros, monótonos y secos; y por ello claros en su articulación. En el norte, nos cuenta Rousseau, “antes de pensar en ser feliz, era preciso pensar en vivir …… y la primera palabra entre ellos no fue ámame sino ayúdame” (EOL, X, 64) Lo necesario prima en ellos sobre lo apasionado.

Pero lo que es absolutamente crucial en este relato es que el hecho de que uno llegue a hablar un lenguaje particular realmente afecta el modo en que uno percibe el mundo, los otros, y consecuentemente lo que uno mismo es. Rousseau va tan lejos que exclama que “en efecto los hombres septentrionales no carecen de pasiones, pero las tienen de otra especie” (ibid, 65). (*8). Y esta multiplicidad es igualmente característica de la música sin la cual comprender la evolución del lenguaje se hace imposible (*9). No podemos recapturar la degeneración del lenguaje sin a la vez retomar la visión rousseauiana de la música. Para ganar claridad respecto a la degeneración del lenguaje debemos mirar la caída de la música. A través del lenguaje melódico poético podíamos articular nuestra interioridad y a la vez proteger nuestra autenticidad de una fusión directa —–romántica—– con la naturaleza; nos daba un identidad personal y comunal. Es por esto que es de este estado del que realmente podemos decir que:

“Los sonidos en la melodía no obran solamente sobre nosotros como sonidos, sino como signos de nuestras afecciones, de nuestros sentimientos. Es así como excitan en nosotros los movimientos que expresan y cuya imagen reconocemos (EOL80 )……. “pues no es tanto el oído el que lleva el placer al corazón como el corazón el que lo lleva al oído” (ibid., 82).

En verdad nos identificábamos en aquellos tiempos con nuestros productos simbólicos. La música en particular tenía una función moral pues nos movía en conformidad con la naturaleza, nos conmovía. Lo que escuchábamos al hablar no era vibraciones externas sino melodiosos sonidos internos de autenticidad. Pero la narración rousseauiana no termina ahí.

V. MODERNIDAD Y DECADENCIA LINGÜÍSTICA

Para Rousseau la modernidad está caracterizada por la creciente separación entre el lenguaje y la música; esta última se vuelve políticamente sospechosa (*1). La degeneración musical sigue en proporción directa a la evolución de los modernos lenguajes convencionales no-melódicos: “a medida que se perfeccionaba la lengua, al imponerse nuevas reglas, la melodía perdió insensiblemente su antigua fuerza” (EOL, XIX, 93). El lenguaje históricamente se hace cada vez más racional, es primordialmente concebido como instrumento de dominio y cálculo; se refiere a las cosas, pero sin expresarnos. En la música los elementos de la armonía subyugan a los de la expresión melódica: “no es de extrañarse que el acento oral se haya afectado por ello, y que la música haya perdido para nosotros casi toda su fuerza” (ibid.). Así como ocurrió en el lenguaje, en la música la universalidad de la voz de la naturaleza se ha ramificado en una pluralidad empobrecida. Como en la diversificación lingüística, la una vez conocida voz de la naturaleza se ha ocultado en múltiples voces y cantos desconocidos.

Ahora pareciera que tuviésemos tan diferentes tipos de nervios (XV, 81) que resulta cierto que “cada uno es afectado sólo por los acentos que le son familiares; sus nervios no se prestan sino en tanto que su espíritu los disponga a ello”. Incluso hasta el punto de que la música, cura de unos es la enfermedad de otros (Ibid, 81). Y a diferencia de la posibilidad de una compleja fusión de horizontes a través del diálogo, el pesimismo rousseauiano emerge ahora con toda su fortaleza. Para él las sociedades comerciales modernas, sociedades de sermones incomprensibles, “han alcanzado su última forma; ya nada cambia en ellas como no sea con el cañón y la moneda (*2)….. lo necesario es mantener dispersa a la gente: tal es la primera máxima de la política moderna” (EOL, XX, 100) Nuestra libertad la hallamos tan sólo en el silencio de la ley; se rompe el nudo social y se deja de lado bien común en pro de discursos faccionales (CS, IV *1). Valoro la libertad en términos de no interferencia; soy libre en sentido negativo (*3) si es que somos libres del todo pues como Rousseau afirma “toda lengua con la cual no puede hacerse oír del pueblo reunido, es una lengua servil: es imposible que un pueblo permanezca libre y que hable esta lengua” (EOL , XX, 101).

El lenguaje musical, que adecuadamente expresaba nuestra naturaleza pasional en el espacio compartido de las sociedades patriarcales, termina siendo valioso sólo en la esfera privada; sirve sencillamente para murmurar en los divanes (EOL, XX, 100). Las palabras cesan de revelarnos, y devienen ahora el instrumento fundamental del encubrimiento y la hipocresía. Su presencia destructiva posterga una ausencia, la de la apariencia que nunca es. En el espacio público se encuentran cara a cara estos lenguajes, sin comprenderse ——-sin querer comprenderse. Los discursos se hacen ajenos a la tolerancia dialógica.

A donde sea que miramos hay plurales lenguajes, pero permanecemos tan perplejos como los desilusionados constructores de la Torre de Babel (*4). Al final de la historia yace un silencio, pero a diferencia del silencio primitivo, el nuestro es realmente trágico ya que surge en medio de la multiplicidad de lenguajes desarrollados. El mundo, para Rousseau, está poblado por una serie de Chaplins, pero lo que es preocupante es que ni siquiera son chistosos ——han olvidado hasta cómo gesticular, cómo gritar.

Políticamente el lenguaje es precisamente el medio a través del cual se instaura la desigualdad entre los seres humanos. De la violencia abierta del final de las sociedades patriarcales, llegamos ahora a la violencia escondida de las palabras. Los ricos, para el Rousseau del DOD, han logrado persuadir a los pobres por medio de un discurso para entrar a hacer parte de un contrato desigual: “para el provecho de algunos ambiciosos, sometieron entonces a todo el género humano al trabajo, a la servidumbre y a la miseria” (DOD. 181)(*5). La propiedad ya desarrollado de las sociedades comerciales presupone un lenguaje, su existencia requiere de quienes tienen la capacidad para decir “Esto es mío”; y claro, de otros capaces de creerlo. El lenguaje sirve ahora la causa de la ausencia; la apariencia obstruye la presencia de la autenticidad. Nos escondemos en las palabras y en el silencio. Lo que era cierto para seres de una época anterior, permanece todavía, a saber, el hecho de que era “preciso para su ventaja mostrarse distinto a como se es efectivamente. Ser y parecer llegaron a ser dos cosas desde todo punto diferentes” (DOD, 176) El lenguaje perpetua nuestra dependencia en la apariencia, nos gobierna desde fuera; nos hace heterónomos. Sólo vivimos de la exterioridad, de lo que los demás pretenden que seamos: “con lo que la dominación se torna más querida que la independencia, estando dispuestos a llevar cadenas para poder imponerlas a los demás” (DOD, 195)(*6). Somos esclavos con cadenas hasta internas.

La ironía de la historia se expresa no sólo en nuestro nuevo silencio. También la pluralidad de la diferencia, que pareció ser una posibilidad de recuperar novedosamente la voz de la naturaleza en su complejidad variable, llega simplemente a un fin trágicamente egalitario. Somos de nuevo absolutamente iguales. La universalidad sí es recuperada pero es una que comparte en la nada. Somos dueños pero del silencio. “Apres moi, le silence”, diría Rousseau. (Starob, 378); se lo diría a sí mismo en sus paseos solitarios (Starob, 327). (*7)

VI. LOS PLURALES LENGUAJES POLÍTICOS DEL “CONTRATO SOCIAL”

Si bien este pesimismo pseudo-augustiniano no escapa al Contrato Social ya que la República, y todo orden político, es siempre un verdadero cuerpo político. Y éste, como “el cuerpo humano, empieza a morir desde su nacimiento y lleva en sí mismo las causas de su destrucción” (III. *11, 113). Hasta los mejores sistemas de gobierno “se acabaran”; “el hombre ha nacido libre, pero por todas partes esta encadenado” (I *1). Pero si bien esto es cierto, la virtud del CS radica precisamente en su lucha contra tales presuposiciones. No sólo señala Rousseau diversos mecanismos para la preservación y el fortalecimiento de una buena comunidad política ——-limitaciones territoriales (II *9), balance poblacional (II *10), eliminación de excesivas diferencias económicas (II *11), prioridad de que los cargos públicos sean otorgados a partir de méritos y virtudes (III *6), elección popular de buenos magistrados y demás cargos públicos, la censura (IV *7), y la religión cívica (IV *8)——— sino que además nos presenta con un agudísimo análisis de los plurales lenguajes políticos que conforman nuestra identidad moderna. Se nos revela el complejo entrelazado de tradiciones centrales para la comprensión de la fundamental pregunta directriz acerca de la legitimidad de nuestras sociedades comerciales (I *1). Encontramos, en primer lugar, el lenguaje de la tradición del republicanismo o humanismo cívico, tanto clásico (Aristóteles, Cícero) como renacentista (Maquiavelo; hoy en día Arendt). Bajo este discurso el agente es visto como un yo caracterizado esencialmente por su búsqueda apasionada e incesante de la ‘virtud’ (*1). La demanda principal sobre las instituciones estatales es la de servir como foro en la que cada ciudadano puede llegar a articular su concepción del bien público. Ser libre radica en participar activamente en el manejo de un estado en donde la ley es soberana, es decir, es expresión tanto de la voluntad general como de mi manera de pensar propia (*2). El segundo lenguaje hace referencia a la tradición fundada sobre el concepto de la ley natural (Aristóteles, Aquino, Grotius), concepción que se ve ampliada por las ideas del ‘estado natural’ y del ‘contrato social’ (Hobbes, Locke; hoy día Rawls). La noción misma de justicia y realidad política surge sólo a partir de la forjación consensual del contrato social a partir de, por un lado una comprensión racional de las capacidades humanas y por otro, unos principios universalizables fundamentales. Ahora el agente es visto primordialmente como un individuo con ciertos derechos naturales universales; por ejemplo el de la autopreservación. La sociedad política, que es un ente artificial, busca como mínimo la protección de dichos derechos egalitarios. El contrato “sustituye una igualdad moral y legítima por la desigualdad física que la naturaleza puso entre los hombres, los cuales, si bien pueden ser desiguales en fuerza o en talento, son todos iguales por convención y derecho” (I *9). Soy, por ejemplo en la visión hobbesiana, libre negativamente, es decir primordialmente en el silencio de la ley y la inexistencia de obstáculos físicos. Finalmente encontramos un tercer lenguaje que es radicalmente moderno, característico de nuestras sociedades comerciales. Es éste el lenguaje del interés y de la utilidad que surge con el desarrollo de la economía política (Smith, Mandeville, Helvetius). El yo se considera bajo esta perspectiva como un ser interesado que busca, primordialmente, su propio bienestar en el espacio privado; es incluso su deber. La estructura estatal debe proveerlo con los mecanismos necesarios para poder lograr el máximo grado de utilidad. Por otra parte la premisa de la no intervención, del ‘laissez-faire’, se acrecienta ya que el mercado tiene sus propias reglas que no podemos controlar.

El primer párrafo del CS revela cómo estos lenguajes se integran en el texto de tal manera que la presencia de uno redefine al otro para intentar ir más allá de sus presuposiciones conflictivas. Rousseau nos dice, primero, que: “en esta investigación intentar(á) siempre relacionar lo que el derecho permite con lo que el interés prescribe, a fin de que la justicia y la utilidad nunca sean divididos”. Y seguidamente procede a enmarcar tal proyecto dentro del discurso republicano al indicar, entre otras, que tal investigación le da “nueva razones para amar el gobierno de (su) país” (ibid.) (*3).

La interrelación entre los dos primeros lenguajes, el de la tradición republicana y el del contrato social, se ve con claridad en el apartado titulado “Del Pacto Social” (I *6). Allí, retomando ideas del DOD pero con un optimismo radicalmente inesperado respecto a la salida del estado de naturaleza, Rousseau señala cómo con el surgimiento de diversos obstáculos al bienestar individual en el estado primitivo (que aparece ya sin etapas aquí), se hace necesaria la constitución conjunta de un pacto en el cual se hacen partícipes todos aquellos que entran a la sociedad civil. Este acto da la solución al problema de “encontrar una forma de asociación que con la fuerza común defienda y proteja a la persona y los bienes de cada asociado, y por la cual cada uno, uniéndose a todos, no obedece sino a sí mismo y permanezca tan libre como antes”. Un pacto que nos entrega la libertad civil y moral gracias a, a diferencia de la noción de delegación lockeana, “la enajenación total de cada asociado con todos sus derechos a la comunidad” (ibid.). Pero para Rousseau lo que surge, constituido artificialmente, no es un simple agregado de átomos débilmente interrelacionados, sino por el contrario un verdadero cuerpo político (ciudad o república) que va más allá de las presuposiciones de la tradición contractual. Nace “un cuerpo moral y colectivo compuesto de tantos miembros como votos tiene la asamblea, el cual recibe, por este mismo acto, su unidad, su yo común, su vida y su voluntad” (ibid., mi énfasis) El lenguaje del pacto de entrada está ligado al republicano como eje central. Y Rousseau es consciente de su intento de redefinición sintética. Por ello señala cómo, dependiendo del lenguaje político utilizado ——así como ocurrió con los lenguajes meridionales y del norte——- veremos algunas cosas en la realidad y no otras. Aquí en particular consideramos las ópticas diferentes del ciudadano y del súbdito. En cuanto ciudadanos somos agentes activos en la conformación de la legislatura, somos miembros egalitarios del soberano, y participes de la voluntad general que involucra, más allá de la simple unanimidad de votos, un proyecto común que nos une e identifica. En cambio, en tanto súbditos, somos seres pasivos miembros del estado, agentes obedientes de la ley que nos señala nuestros derechos, entre ellos el de la propiedad privada.

Incluso ya en el apartado analizado el tercer lenguaje, el del interés, es señalado como un lenguaje propio; hay una clara diferencia para Rousseau entre el ciudadano y el burgués. Pero la relación del lenguaje republicano con éste último se puede esclarecer de mejor manera al analizar la sección titulada “De lo límites del poder soberano” (II *4). Allí Rousseau, quien de entrada es radicalmente sospechoso de intereses faccionales que olvidan el bien común general (“cuando una voluntad particular es impuesto sobre la general, tanto la comunidad como el individuo son esclavizados” (Viroli 169), intenta señalar cómo incluso en la persecución de intereses privados es de utilidad tanto privada, como común, el no perder de vista los proyectos de la sociedad en su conjunto. Es así como argumenta Rousseau que al moldear nuestra actividad privada con miras a fines más globales, garantizamos como mínimo la supervivencia de la seguridad cívica que permite el comercio mismo. Para él “los compromisos que nos atan al cuerpo social no son obligatorios sino en cuanto son mutuos, y su naturaleza es tal que cumpliéndolos no se puede trabajar para otro sin trabajar para sí mismo”. La relación entre estos dos lenguajes es de nuevo retomada en la sección que lleva por título, ‘Del soberano’ (CS I *7). Es ésta aquella en que argumenta Rousseau de manera famosa que se le obligará a ser libre a quien no obedezca la voluntad general (*4). Pero antes que caer en un totalitarianismo absoluto en donde lo público ocupa todo espacio —como en 1984 de Orwell—- Rousseau señala que:

“en el momento en que esta multitud está así unida en un cuerpo no se puede ofender a uno de los miembros sin atacar el cuerpo ….el deber y el interés obligan por igual a las dos partes contratantes a ayudarse mutuamente y los mismos hombres deben buscar reunir bajo esta doble relación todas las ventajas que derivan de ella” (26)

En tanto modernos inevitablemente somos seres con intereses económicos particulares. Por ende el interés y el fomento de lo privado sigue siendo crucial (*5). Pero para Rousseau, sólo si logramos ir más allá, y así percibir la necesidad de proyectos mutuos, podemos entonces no sólo preservar la libertad negativa de la simple preservación, sino además tanto la “libertad civil” como base para la consecución de proyectos comunitarios, como la “libertad moral” “que por sí sola hace al hombre verdaderamente dueño de sí mismo, puesto que el impulso del simple apetito es la esclavitud.” (I *8, 30). Obligados podemos ser a la libertad civil, pero a la libertad moral sólo nosotros en nuestra interioridad podemos acceder (*6). Ahora bien, si es cierto que la voluntad general jamás puede errar (II *3), aunque no signifique esto que requiera ser unánime pues siempre está dirigida al bien público (II *2),¿cómo precisamente al ser obligados por lo público a moldear lo privado, permanece este último como independiente?

Al mirar, brevemente, el propósito de la ley dentro de la tradición republicana vemos que ésta es precisamente aquello que nos hace libres. Son leyes las que surgen de “una autoridad legítima y soberana y respeta los dos principios de la universalidad y la reciprocidad” (Viroli, 163). La ley dentro de una república garantiza el ordenamiento político que tiene, según Viroli, tres aspectos interrelacionados: i) el concepto de armonía y concordia, es decir la cooperación entre las partes, ii) la noción de justa y apropiada disposición, a saber, la correcta colocación de las partes en una escala de valores de mérito, y iii) la virtud de la moderación personal caracterizada por el control de las pasiones. Es claro que allí radica el orden, pero y de nuevo, ¿cómo garantizar que el orden no será totalizante? ¿Cómo puede Viroli afirmar que “el objetivo del verdadero político no se es el de imponer la utilitas publica sobre la utilitas singolorum; es hacer que los intereses privados y públicos concuerden?” (Viroli, 170). ¿Si hay realmente cabida para el lenguaje del interés en el CS?

En primer lugar, lejos de un totalitarianismo, para Rousseau el gobierno debe estar preparado para sacrificarse por el pueblo y no al contrario (III *1, 98). En segundo lugar el acceso a la libertad moral es nuestro únicamente; se es libre de esta manera hasta en una tiranía. Además, el ordenamiento a partir de la ley que emana de nosotros mismos, no sólo cumple el rol de garantizar la paz, sino que también tiene la función de moldear a los ciudadanos. El legislador que es humano, y por ende no puede darnos leyes perfectas, debe tener esto en mente: “quien pretende emprender la formación de un pueblo debe sentirse … en capacidad de cambiar la naturaleza humana, de transformar a cada individuo, que es en sí mismo un todo perfecto, y convertirlo en parte de un todo más grande, del cual este individuo recibe, de alguna forma, su vida y su ser” (II *7, 64). Para Rousseau es el legislativo, siguiendo la tradición republicana, el verdadero corazón del estado; el ejecutivo es simplemente el cerebro (III *7). Y este corazón involucra mucho más que leyes políticas, civiles o criminales. Su sistema circulatorio está compuesto por otro tipo de leyes, aquellas “que no se graban sobre el mármol ni sobre el bronce sino dentro del corazón de los ciudadanos que conforman la verdadera constitución del estado”(II *12) (*7). Ley, libertad y buenas costumbres conforman un triángulo equilátero que el legislador debe comprender para moldear los necesarios impulsos privados hacia el bienestar público.

Pero un legislador prudente (en el sentido de Aristóteles) no se limita simplemente a imponer un formato de leyes universales preestablecidas. Por el contrario debe éste “examinar primero si el pueblo al cual están destinados puede realmente soportarlas” (II *8). Resurge entonces aquí la sensibilidad rousseauiana a la diferencia. Responder a la pregunta ¿cuál es el mejor sistema político?, es imposible pues “cada uno de ellos en algunos casos es el mejor y en otros el peor” (III *3). Incluso la libertad no está al alcance de todos los pueblos (III *8). Pero como dijimos anteriormente, no por la presencia de la diferencia caemos en un relativismo total. El lenguaje del republicanismo permanece ocupando el ápice de la estructura política ideal. Esto es así, entre otras, ya que en él, a diferencia de por ejemplo la monarquía, los cargos públicos van de acuerdo al mérito (III *6). Estos tampoco son entregados simplemente por dinero:

“dad dinero y pronto tendréis cadenas. La palabra finanzas es una palabra de esclavo; es desconocida en la ciudad. En un estado realmente libre, los ciudadanos hacen todo con sus brazos y nada con dinero; lejos de pagar por eximirse de sus deberes, pagarán por cumplirlos ellos mismos” (III *15), 152-3).

Evidentemente el lenguaje de intereses comerciales es radicalmente limitado, a diferencia de Constant, por la austeridad de Rousseau. Pero limitar la incidencia de un lenguaje es bien diferente a rechazarlo de entrada.

Sin embargo, aunque Rousseau intenta recuperar esta pluralidad política en su obra, no es para nada optimista acerca de las posibilidades de la realidad política humana. Entre la naturaleza humana como ha llegado a ser, y la ley como debe ser, prima la primera ya escindida de su origen. Es así como señala que lo ocurre en el corazón del legislador es representativo de lo que ocurre en los nuestros. Los magistrados tienen tres voluntades (que más o menos corresponden a los lenguajes analizados): i) la voluntad individual que busca la ventaja particular, ii) la común de los magistrados o de cuerpo, y por último, iii) la voz de pueblo o soberano. El ordenamiento político que pospone la crisis se da por la jerarquización adecuada. Pero para Rousseau:

“por el contrario, según el orden natural estas diferentes voluntades se vuelven más activas a medida que se concentran. Así la voluntad general siempre es la más débil, la voluntad de cuerpo ocupa el segundo lugar, y la voluntad particular la primera de todas; en el gobierno cada miembro primero es él mismo, luego magistrado y por último ciudadano, gradación directamente opuesta a la que exige el orden social” (III *2, 101).

Rousseau por ende no es nada optimista acerca de su propia empresa clarificadora de la relación entre una política de la diferencia, y una de la igualdad en la modernidad. Sin embargo investigar su investigación nos permite un lenguaje más para la comprensión de nuestra compleja identidad moderna.


VII. NOTAS

*I)1. Taylor trata esta interpretación de Rousseau en la tercera sección de “The politics of recognition” (TPoR), especialmente pg. 50.

2. La visión rousseauiana de la historia no es sencillamente una secularización de la tradición crsitiana (Edén, Caída y Redención) como señala Arrocha en una cita; según mi análisis no existe realmente tal redención.

3. Ver en particular el ensayo de Starobinsky acerca del EOL, 322.

*II) 1. Ver también (DOD, 121), y el ensayo de Foucault, “What is Enlightenment”

2. Igualmente para Rousseau no existe, ni existirá, una democracia perfecta.(III *4)

3. Taylor trata el tema del reconocimiento, respeto y valor de otras culturas en “The politics of recogition”

4. Un paralelo se encuentra en La genealogía de la moral de Nietzsche, I *1.

5. Para Taylor la temática de la autenticidad es central par la comprensión de nuestra identidad moderna, en particular ver Sources of the Self, (SotS); capítulos IV y V.

6. La historia de nuestra interiorización está trazada igualmente en SotS, capítulo II, y en el artículo sobre Foucault titulado,“Foucault on freedom and truth” PP II.

*III) 1. Para un análisis de las diferentes tradiciones linguísticas de la modernidad ver Taylor, “Language and Human Nature”

2. Un ejemplo del valor del lenguaje gesticular en la educación cívica son evidentemente los mimos de Mockus.

3. Rousseau recupera, siguiendo la tradición agustiniana, el concepto de la calidad de la voluntad; ver Taylor, SotS, 357.

4. Visión ligada al sentientalismo del siglo XVIII, y central en la tradición romántica como por ejemplo en el Werther (Blum, 48).

5. Taylor trata este tema en SotS, capítulo 1; y analizando las leyes del lenguaje de Quebec en “TPoR”.

*IV) 1. El rol de los sentimientos en una crítica de la libertad negativa se da en Taylor, “What’s wrong with negative liberty”.

2. No tocaré en el análisis tres paradojas que se encunttran en Rousseau: i) la de la relación entre el pensamiento y el lenguaje (es necesario para pensar tener un lenguaje y un lenguaje para pensar), ii) la relación entre la sociedad y el lenguaje, y finalmente, iii) el hecho de que dadas las presuposiciones rousseauianas en el CS si uno nace en un estado corrupto, con malas costumbres, es difícil ver como arrancaría siquiera la posición de Rousseau.

3. Es importante considerar si esta segunda etapa es realmente la segunda etapa de la naturaleza o la primera de la civilización pues de ello depende nuestra valoración, positiva o negativa, de nuestro carácter civilizado.

4. Starobinsky señala las cuatro etapas completas en su ensayo sobre el DOD.

5. Ver Taylor “Language and Human Nature” para la relación entre expresión y designación, y la pugna entre diferentes tradiciones (Rousseau/Herder contra Hobbes/Locke/Condillac)

6. Esta idea bellamente analizada en Anne Carson, Eros the Bittersweet, en donde se ve la relación enter una cultura oral y escrita y las correspondientes concepciones del yo y la identidad..

7. Camus también ve en los algerianos algo similar, ver su “Summer in Algiers”.

8. Los norteños tienen un ejemplo en el personaje Hans de la obra de Julio Verne, Viaje al centro de la tierra.

9. La importancia de la música retomada claro por Schopenhauer, Nietzsche y Mann.

*V)1. Ver la visión de Herr Settembrini acerca de la música en La Montaña Mágica de Thomas Mann; contrapuesta al amor de la música de Hans Castorp.

2. Sería importante comparar aquí la crítica de Constant sobre el rol de lo comercial en la modernidad.

3. Ver artículo de Taylor, “What’s Wrong with Negative Liberty”

4.Tal vez Rousseau esté creando una Torre de Babel hacia el interior, forjando un tipo de subjetividad moderna que retoma el proceso de interiorización de San Agustín; proceso del que Foucault es altamente sospechoso. Central para una mejor comprensión de esta temática es la de incorporar Las Confesiones a este estudio preliminar.

5. No tocaré aquí el problema de la tensión que existe ente el DOD y el CS; por ejemplo, ¿es, finalmente, el contrato originalmente desigual o no?

6. La idea del reconocimento claro retomada por Hegel en, La Fenomenología del Espíritu, “Señor y Siervo”.

7. La relación entre la biografía de Roussseau y su obra es compleja y no la trataré aquí, pero claro es menester tratarla en el doctorado.

*VI) 1. Virtud claro comprendida no en el sentido cristiano pues este es un lenguaje apolítico según Rousseau (CS IV *8) que aquí sigue a Maquiavelo.

2. Idea que retomará Kant en su importantísima concepción del imperativo categórico como universal y a la vez emanando de mi propia autonomía racional.

3. El hecho de que Rousseau no era ya ciudadano de Ginebra no lo trataré aquí. (Satrob, 322) (Blum, 54).

4. Ejemplos nuestros de ser forzados a ser libres son: posibilidad de voto obligatorio y ley zanahoria.

5. La legitimidad de lo privado en la modernidad es tratada por Taylor en “Legitimation Crisis?”.

7. Ejemplos del valor de la ley en Rousseau se dan en Consideraciones sobre el gobierno de Polonia, II; “El espíritu de las instituciones antiguas”; Taylor lo cita en “TPoR”. pg. 46-7.

 

VIII. BIBLIOGRAFíA


A) LECTURAS PRIMARIAS

Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, Discurso sobre el origen y los fundamentos de la desigualdad entre los hombres y otros escritos de Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Estudio preliminar, traducción y notas de Antonio Pintor Ramos, REI Andes Ltda., Santafé de Bogotá, 1995

—–El contrato social, Traducción de Andebeng-Abeu Alingue, Prólogo y notas de

VíctorFlorián, Panamerican Editorial, Santafé de Bogotá, 1996

—–Ensayo sobre el origen de las lenguas, Traducción de Rubén Sierra Mejía,

Editorial Norma, Santafé de Bogotá, 1993.

—–The Basic Political Writings, Tranducción de Donald Cress, Hackett Publishing

Company, Indianapolis, 1987.

—–Two Essays on the Origin of Language, Translated by Moran, John and Gode

Alexander, The University of Chicago Press, Chicago, 1966 (1986)

—–Discours sur les sciences et les arts, Preface de Jean Varloot, Editions Gallimard, Paris,

1987.

—–Du contract social, Union generale d’editions, Paris, 1973 (1982)

—–Essai sur l’origine des langues, Bibliotheque du Graphe, Ligugé, 1976.

 

B) LECTURAS SECUNDARIAS

 

Arrocha Ruperto, “La actualidad del pensamiento de J.J. Rousseau en nuestra época”,

Memorias del XIII Congreso de Filosofía, Los Andes Santafé de Bogotá, 1994, pgs.

813-819

 

Blum, Carol, Rousseau and the Republic of Virtue, Cornell University Press, Ithaca, 1986,

(1989), pgs 13-57

Constant, Benjamin, “The Liberty of the Ancients compared with that of the

Moderns” in Political Writings, Translated by Biancamaria Fontrana, Cambridge

University Press, Cambridge, 1988 (1989).

 

Herder, Johann, Essay on the Origin of Language, (ver arriba; Moran y Gode).

Kant, Immanuel, Kant’s Political Writings, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge

1970 (1985).

Pagden, Anthony, “Introduction” en The Languages of Political Theory in Early-Modern

Europe, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1987 (1990), pgs. 1-17.

 

Starobinsky, Jean, J.J. Rousseau: La transparence et l’obstacle, Editions Gallimard, Paris,

1971(1976). Versión inglesa Jean-Jacques Rousseau:Transparency and Obstruction, s.d.

Taylor, Charles, “The Politics of Recognition” en Multiculturalism, Princeton

University Press, Princeton, 1994. pgs. 25-74.

——-”Language and Human Nature, Philosophical Papers I, pgs. 215-248

——-”Theories of Meaning”, PP I, pgs 248-292

——-”Kant’s Theory of Freedom”, en Philosophical Papers II, pgs. 318-337

——-”Legitimation Crisis?” en PP II, pgs. 248-288

——-”What’s Wrong with Negative Liberty”, PP II, 211-229.

——-”Nature as Source” Capítulo 20 de Sources of the Self, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, 1989.

Viroli, Maurizio, “The concept of ordre and the language of classical republicanism in Jean-Jacques Rousseau”, en Pagden, Anthony, (ver arriba), pgs159-178.

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In order to try to better understand the different ways in which the moral virtues are exhibited and understood, on the one hand, by the person pursuing the theoretical life, and on the other, by the one who seeks the practical life, I propose to briefly look at the specific moral virtue of courage as understood by Aristotle.

A) Practical Courage and Its Complexities

In a lengthy section of Book III, Aristotle lays out his basic tenets regarding courage. The courageous, in order to truly exhibit her virtue, must know what she is doing, choose it for its own sake, and do so from a fixed and permanent disposition (1105b33). Moreover, her choosing involves aiming at the mean lying between rashness and cowardice as determined rationally by the prudent man (1107a1).

Practically speaking, the truly courageous are those who face the greatest terrors that humans can face, those of the battlefield where the dangers are “greatest and most glorious” (1115a30). City-states honour their dead; presumably then we would expect Aristotle to base the choosing of courageous actions as the means to the, more important, survival of the community by safeguarding the conditions for the common good. But Aristotle wants instead to investigate the viability of choosing the moral life for ITS own sake, not for anything external to it (only later to be considered under the banner of justice). This is the reason why for Aristotle civic courage, though the most akin to moral courage, is not quite it. The civically courageous yearns to receive something in return for what she knows involves the greatest of self-sacrifices, death. What moves her to act is truly something outside the action itself, namely the honour bestowed on those who are remembered as martyrs of the community. Now, if the greatest courage involves death in the battlefield, and such actions cannot be grounded on one’s own love of one’s country, then one is puzzled and led to ask, what precisely is the courageous rationally choosing, in choosing to die for its own sake?

According to Aristotle, having negatively characterized what courage is not, it should not be difficult to grasp what courage actually is (1117b22). But, if our target is that of happiness, at the core of which lie the moral virtues in a complete life (1101a16), and which is pleasant in itself because virtuous actions are pleasant in themselves (1199a14), it looks as though courage as virtue stands quite at odds with such a goal.

Aristotle tells us that the pleasurable in courage lies in the end obtained, just as boxers who receive punches, but in the end gain glory (if they win). So, and if the analogy holds, the courageous human will endure death and wounds “because it is a fine thing OR because it is a disgrace not to” (1117b8). (The ‘or’ revealing the tension between choosing it for its own sake, or for something else).

In the case of the happy human the conflict reaches its peak for his life is pleasurable and supremely worth living; “he will be distressed at the thought of death” (1117b10). However, as morally virtuous, she will choose, and more bravely than any other, to give up his life “because in preference to these blessings he chooses a gallant end in war” (1117b14)

B) Contemplation and courage

In Book X, *6, Aristotle reminds us that happiness involves activity chosen for its own sake; in it nothing is required beyond the exercise of the activity. (1176b9). Strikingly, it seems he still maintains that happiness consists in activities in accordance with virtue (1177a9, reminding us of 1098a16 in BK. I).

Chapter *7 therefore is quite illuminating in that it points to a reconsideration of the possibility of human happiness through the activity of contemplation; the “highest virtue” in us corresponding to the best in us (1177a12). Not only is this activity the most continuous, the most perfect and self-sufficient, one seeking no end beyond itself, but that which is most akin to the divine. The gods are the supremely happy beings, and we ought therefore to aim, not simply at living according to mortal thoughts, but instead, “so far as in us lies, to put on immortality” (1177b33).

Herein lies “the perfect happiness of man” (1177b33), not simply the secondary kind of “happiness” associated to the actions of the morally minded human. Politics and warfare (courage being as central virtue to both), lack the necessary leisure (1177b9) and are chosen for something external to themselves (1177b16). Moreover, all the virtues cataloged by the morally minded, are unworthy of the gods (1178b15), who instead are dearest to those engaging in the contemplative life (1179a28).

Given all this, in the case of a courage demanding situation, how will the contemplative human act? Will he run away leaving his friends and the city which is worthy of defending? Will he not seek to preserve himself instead?

Although the contemplative human is the most self-sufficient, he can practice contemplation by himself, Aristotle is quick to point out that “he does it better with the help of fellow-workers” (1177a33). Besides, like the moral human, the contemplative is in need of external necessities such as that of a healthy body (1178b31), and friends (1170b12). But in excess these can even become a hindrance (1178ba). Aristotle quotes both the man of practical affairs (Solon) and the man of wisdom (Anaxagoras) as agreeing on the  limited importance of such external accessories. The happy human might turn out to be “an oddity in most people’s eyes, because they judge from outward appearances” (1179a12). But how precisely would this human regard courageous action? Who could be such a courageous human?

Perhaps one ought to consider a being such as Socrates whose courage was displayed both in words and in deeds. He was courageous, not only in the battlefield, where particularly in retreat he shone like no other in the defense of his worth-while city and worth-while friends (Symp. 220 , Laches 181b), but also in the world of the struggle for articulation and clarification. The contemplative Socrates tries to get clearer on the nature of courage in the Platonic Laches. Although the dialogue seemingly ends in Socratic aporia, for he tells us “what I don’t advise is that we allow ourselves to remain in the same condition we are now” (201a), it carries the seeds to move beyond aporia in the very picture of Socrates. Socrates’ quest is one of self-understanding and courageous questioning of his and other’s way of life. Socrates will fight, but he will do so nowhere better than in the realm of understanding. Perhaps even deaths will follow and new re-births from a wise human who leads us “into giving an account of (our) present life-style and of the way (we have) spent it in the past” (187e). However, unlike Socrates, Aristotle, whose work so questions us while at the same time aiding us in clarifying our perplexities, did not choose the hemlock.

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INTRODUCTION

One of the main reasons why an understanding of the relationship between ‘natural right’ and ‘conventional right’ must be high in the hierarchy of activities we engage in, lies in that its consideration brings to light the difficult issues of relativity between, and criticality of, different political communities. The extremely compressed passage in which Aristotle takes up this relationship is full of difficult lines, lines which are themselves enlightened by sometimes perplexing examples. In it, one could say, Aristotle seems to move back and forth from one kind of right to the other; uncomfortably trying to delineate the space which lies between them.

The tension between both kinds of right leads to an array of difficult questions which come to light precisely out of the opposition in which they stand. On the one hand, if political justice is wholly conventional, one is necessarily led to ask; is it not then doomed to be variable to the extent that, what a given community considers to be just, is just as valid as what any other does? Will the question of justice not be reduced to a prior question, namely, ‘whose justice’ are we speaking of; justice becoming then a relative term? This is more problematic because if, as Aristotle holds, law shapes our very being, then, “stepping aside” to critically assess the regime which seeks to foster precisely its own outlook, seems a rather difficult, if not impossible, course of action. In other words, if one’s tradition determines to a large extent what one considers to be just, how is it possible for “us” to reach some kind of ‘objective’ standpoint from which our own and other conventional conceptions of right can be judged? Must tolerance be reduced to a passive acceptance of difference, independent of the ethical considerations and violations underlying such diversity?

On the other hand, if one holds onto a natural view of political justice, then although one can claim to be able to assess all conventional right by measuring it to a common ground, a standard to which all political communities have access in virtue of something common to all humans (e.g. rationality), still the position is not itself without difficulties. First of all that ‘common something’ seems contested by the different traditions themselves. But besides this, if all perspectives can be assessed by way of this standard, still, how to figure out and agree upon what is the fundamental nature of such standard is by all means not an easy task. Is it grounded on a transcendental ideal to which only few have access? Is it to be found in the natural order of things? Does it follow alone from divine revelation? Is it ultimately, particularly for us moderns, simply a matter of promoting and defending some group of basic inalienable human rights and duties (perhaps to be supplemented by different kinds of group differentiated rights for minorities)? Or, if it is indeed based on a distinctively human capacity such as reason, how is one to conceive of this rationality —- be it that of classical thought or that of the Enlightenment—— other than by acknowledging it as part of a specific tradition which has come to understand itself in such ‘rational’ terms? What guarantee do we have that when assessing other cultures by way of some form of natural right, we are not simply, though disguisedly, projecting the values of our own? Finally, what is the relationship between philosophy, born out of a particular tradition, and the search for this critical space in which the city, and all cities for that matter, come to be questioned? (*1)

The complexity and importance of the issue under consideration is well put by Strauss:

“If there is no standard higher than the ideal of our society, we are utterly unable to take a critical distance from that ideal. But the mere fact that we can raise the question of worth of the ideal of our society shows that there is something in man that is not altogether in slavery to his society, and therefore, that we are able and hence obliged to look for a standard with reference to which we can judge the ideals of our society as well as any society” (NRH, 3) (*2)

To question is part of our nature, but indeed it would be rather absurd to try to answer all these mind-boggling puzzles in a short essay like this. Nevertheless they stand as avenues that can be pursued, some of which we will begin to pursue here only tentatively. But before proceeding, I would like to make two cautionary remarks. The first deals with the idea that whatever conception of natural right is ultimately available to us moderns, its grounding cannot proceed from the imitation of a given hierarchical ordering of a purposeful universe which we admire in its beauty and inherent goodness; an external teleological reality which, by shaping ourselves according to it, allows our own human beauty and goodness to flourish. Nature for us moderns is not a mirror we model ourselves upon. As Charles Taylor puts it with respect to the creative imagination found in art’s capacity to transfigure reality:

“it becomes possible for us to see a crisis of affirmation as something we have to meet through a transfiguration of our vision, rather than simply through a recognition of some objective standard of goodness. The recovery may have to take the form of a transfiguration of our stance towards the word and the self, rather than simply the registering of external reality” (SotS, 448) (*3)

The second prefatory point is that, even though the search for such a ‘objective’ standpoint ——-which is somehow or other implied in the notion of natural right—– is of great importance in judging and differentiating unjust regimes, as well as individuals, from just ones, that this ‘natural’ standard can ultimately be found is another matter altogether:

“our aversion to fanatical obscurantism must not lead us to embrace natural right in a spirit of fanatical obscurantism. Let us beware of the danger of pursuing a Socratic goal with the means, and the temper of Thrasymachus. Certainly the seriousness of the need of natural right does not prove that the need can be satisfied” (Strauss, NRH, 6) (*4)

Having said this, and in order to get somewhat clearer on the relationship between conventional and natural right, I would like to divide the essay into two sections. In the first I will look at the difficult and compressed passage in the Nicomachean Ethics where Aristotle deals directly with the subject matter; chapter seven of the Book on Justice. There I will try to follow Aristotle’s own struggle with the issue by looking and trying to elucidate, as far as possible, the arguments and examples given to us readers. In the second section I will take up two of the most prominent interpretations of the passage; one by Saint Thomas Aquinas, the other by Marsilius of Padua. I will there try to, briefly and in outline, show that neither does justice in their reinterpretation to the complexities found in the first section where the text by Aristotle was considered. To conclude this section, I will likewise question some of the arguments put forward by Strauss in his search for a middle road between these conflicting interpretations.

SECTION I: ARISTOTLE AND THE MUTABILITY OF BOTH NATURAL AND CONVENTIONAL RIGHT IN POLITICAL JUSTICE.

Aristotle is the first to point out that when speaking of the just, one can do so in many ways. For instance one can consider, either general justice (1129b12 ff.), or a part of this general form, that is to say, particular justice and its distributive and corrective aspects. Some even speak of justice in terms solely of the relation of the parts of the soul and its health (1138b1 ff). Furthermore, one can speak of justice with reference to the different domains in which relationships between agents take place. In this sense political justice is not the same as the justice appropriate to the household; relations between citizens, for Aristotle, are not the same as those of inferior kind that hold between husband and wife, master and slave, and father and son (MM, 1194b5 ff.). (*5)

Besides, it is not just any social organization which meets Aristotle’s criteria for being considered political. This is why in the chapter immediately preceding the one dealing with the relationship between conventional and natural right, Aristotle points out the conditions for the politically just. It

“obtains between those who share a life for the satisfaction of their needs as persons free and equal … hence in the associations where these conditions are not present there is no political justice between members, but only a sort of approximation to justice” (1134a26-8)

This seems rather puzzling. We have not even begun to attempt to determine what natural right might be, and yet Aristotle has already set up a criteria for the consideration of the political, namely, equality and freedom between participants who share at the same time in being ruled and ruling (1134b16-19). Now, if political justice develops under these conditions, and if it is true that “if anyone wants to make a serious study of the fine and just things, or of political science generally, he must have been well trained in his habits” (1095b2-4), then truly few regimes will be able to carry out such an inquiry, namely those in which such equality and freedom already exists, in some sense or other. Presumably a tyranny could not then reflect on the politically just precisely because the conditions for its appearance are in it wholly lacking. But let us look closer then at this very specific type of justice, that is to say, political justice.

In the Magna Moralia, even though one finds the bipartite differentiation between the just things, on the one hand by nature, and on the other by convention, there what is considered to be politically just is reduced only to the realm of the conventional:

“so the just according to nature is better than the just according to convention, but what we are inquiring about is the politically just; and the politically just is that which is by convention, not that which is by nature” (MM, 1194a1-4)

It seems as though in that work Aristotle is skeptical of finding any such natural justice within the political. But this position is altogether different from what Aristotle himself holds in the corresponding passage of his Nicomachean Ethics.

The conflict between both is strikingly made evident from the very first line where we are told that the division between natural right and conventional right IS set, unlike the previous quotation, within the overall discussion of political justice (1134b18-19). Perhaps why this difference exists can be somewhat understood by looking at the passage more closely.

In it, Aristotle first defines natural right as “that which has everywhere the same power and does not depend on being opined or not”. The “naturalness” of natural right resides precisely in its being independent both of spatial and temporal differences —-it is in a sense transhistorical and transcultural——, and of the multiplicity of conflicting opinions held by different humans. Natural right is truly something unchanging, or so it would seem. Suspiciously, Aristotle here gives no example to elaborate upon.

Conventional right, in contrast, can be seen in three interrelated forms. First it refers to “that with regard to which in the beginning it makes no difference whether matters are this or that way, but once it is established one way or another it does make a difference”. An interpretation could be as follows. For instance, in the downfall of a regime or in its early periods of consolidation, some aspects of conventional right can go in many different possible ways. It is ‘up for grabs’, so to speak. But once it has been set down as law, it determines (to a large extent in a negative form) what is to be considered just and what unjust. And here, unlike the case of natural right, Aristotle aids us somewhat by providing some examples. These refer specifically to laws regarding some aspect or other of war, the ransom of prisoners, and of religion, the number and nature of animals to be sacrificed. (Would it be too exaggerated to read these then as portraying how relativity appears foremost and most dangerously in the realm of the defense of one’s community and in religious strife?) Perhaps another example of this type of conventional right could be the national symbols of different states. Colombia’s or Canada’s flag could presumably have been otherwise, but now that they have been set in place it does make a difference if someone were to attempt to modify them in one way or another. In the religious realm for instance one could say it makes a great difference if one is brought up as Catholic or as Muslim (*6).

As a second field of conventional right Aristotle points to legislation that takes place in particular cases; private laws which for instance require sacrifices for outstanding, honour-deserving individuals such as the sacrifices for Brasidas, a spartan general (Penguin, 371). Conventional law then seeks to put forward legislation which acknowledges the sacrifices of some distinguished people who, for the sake of the political community, have sacrificed themselves and therefore “ought to be given some reward, honour or dignity. It is those who are not satisfied with these rewards that develop into despots” (1134b6-8). A similar contemporary example of this type of ‘conventional right’ would be the changing of the name of a city street to remember a given person ——for instance, in Montreal, the ‘Rene Levesque Avenue’—– however this example is not closely linked to law itself. (*7)

Finally the third category is that of ‘things passed by vote’. Although it is not clear to me what Aristotle refers to, perhaps one could think of cases such as the referendum in Quebec. If it had gone through, matters would now stand a quite different light. Aquinas sees this category of conventional right as referring to the decrees of judges (1022). If this is the correct way to understand it then examples of these type of decisions can be seen in multicultural societies where different conventional understandings require the transformation of the positive laws already set in place. As Parekh puts it:

“In all these cases person’s cultural background made a difference to his or her treatment by the courts. The law was pluralized and departures from the norm of formal equality were made in different ways and guises, showing how to reconcile the apparently conflicting demands of uniformity and diversity” (Parekh, BCCD, 200)

Having given us a first look at the differentiation between natural and conventional right, Aristotle then proceeds to argue against those who believe that the politically just is only what is conventionally just; a position with which he himself sides, as we saw in the Magna Moralia. Aristotle continues his argument as follows: “but in the opinion of some, all things are such on the ground that what is by nature is unchangeable and has everywhere the same power, just as fire here and in Persia burns, but they see that the just things change”. Fire burns equally in Greece and in Persia, but what the Greeks and the Persians take to be ‘the just’, varies considerably. And furthermore, if what we said at the outset concerning the conditions of political justice is true, then Persia does not meet the conditions for speaking of political justice at all. This because of their not sharing in freedom and equality. Having chosen Persia in the example, therefore seems not to have been by luck.

Presumably Aristotle would go on to tell us, finally, just precisely how this standard, which natural right is, works. But to our disappointment this is precisely what Aristotle proceeds NOT do; or at least fully. Instead he tells us that all natural right is in fact just as changeable as conventional right. Or, he pauses, almost always, he says. That is, natural right seems unchangeable in reference to the gods, the celestial beings which for the Aristotle, as Aquinas reminds us (1026), are unchanging. But to our surprise once again the statement is qualified; even in divine matters the unchangeability of natural right is only ‘probably’ so. In this sense, as we shall see, Aristotle’s Gods do not fit well with Aquinas’. But leaving this question aside, for our purposes it is important to point to the changeability that Aristotle makes characteristic of natural right; the tranformability of that standard through which we aim somehow at ranking conventional understandings of the just. As Aristotle puts it, among us humans (*9): “while there is something by nature, it is ALL changeable and yet nevertheless there is that which is by nature and that which is not by nature”. The variability of natural right does not preclude its remaining to a degree invariable. The standard, if it exists at all, would then seem to resemble not an iron pole, but a more flexible structure such as that of a rubber band; capable of transforming itself without necessarily becoming something other that that which it is.

And while we stand rather perplexed by all of what has bee said, Aristotle, one feels almost jokingly, tells us that all this ought to be as clear as daylight: “now, which is by nature of the things that can be otherwise and which is not, but is instead conventional and by agreement, since both of them are equally changeable is CLEAR”. Well perhaps it is not. However, unlike the previous definition of natural right which excluded variability, this new qualified perspective is indeed, finally, followed by an example. But it is an extremely odd example, one which seems rather removed from the discussion of the politically just. It goes like this: “by nature the right is stronger though it is possible for everyone to become ambidextrous”. Few words which make one wonder what Aristotle is getting at.

Our first reaction could be to say; but look around you, there are many left handed people, for instance my brother –in–law, for whom the left hand is by nature the strongest. Is their left hand not ‘by nature’ the strongest? So Aristotle, what you are saying is not at all true (*10). Unfortunately our first objection seems made irrelevant if one looks at the corresponding example found in the Magna Moralia. There the same example is put forward, but with the notion of superiority left on the side: “yet nevertheless the left is such and such by nature, and the right is no less better than the left, even if we were to do everything with the left as with the right” (MM 1199b31-34). Aquinas understands this example as showing that natural right is valid in the majority of cases, but in some few cases it does not hold (1029); a position to which we shall return in the following section (*11). But perhaps there is another way to comprehend this flexibility of natural right, while having its kind of flexibility not partaking of the same type which characterizes that of the conventional.

One imaginative, perhaps too imaginative, way to do interpret the example, though this is not what Aristotle himself says, would be as follows. By nature most of us are indeed right handed, and some left handed. But being left handed or right handed takes no extraordinary effort on our part; we are so equipped by nature one way or the other. Aristotle himself has told us that we are equipped as humans in just the very same way not only as regards the different faculties of the soul, namely, the vegetative, the desiderative and the rational (1102b28ff), but likewise in the case of the potentiality to develop the moral virtues of which he says we are “constituted by nature to receive them” (1103a29). But although this is true under normal conditions, still few seek to modify what is given to us by nature, transforming it so that new, more complete organizations, can be achieved. Becoming ambidextrous, through a habitual practice involving throwing with the other hand (MM 1194b27), is just such a practice which changes what is, without making it something wholly different. In a similar way, the passage alluded to above, the one concerning the moral virtues, culminates by telling us that “their full development is due to habit”. Becoming virtuous transforms us in that, what we are potentially capacitated to do, reaches its utmost level of actualization. If one can imagine those who have indeed attempted to become ambidextrous, one can imagine the patience and personal commitment required in order to achieve that end which represents a flourishing towards higher natural completeness. And this end goes beyond utility and survival, though perhaps ambidextrous people will be more helpful under certain circumstances, for instance in the case of strikers in soccer who, because they can use both legs to hit the ball, can score more goals. This end involves, in a sense, a healthier realization, a completeness comparable to works of art (1106b9). It would be a little like becoming fully bilingual, not an easy matter, assuming that is that one learns the language not simply as a child. Unfortunately our imaginative analysis seems far removed from what Aristotle argues in the passage considered, for the passage as a whole focuses principally on political justice, not on individual health. (*12) But perhaps some regimes are healthier than others; some regimes fighting against all odds in order to become more readily ambidextrous.

Aristotle goes on to exemplify how, in contrast to the variability of the natural, so too the conventional has its own kind of variation. The conventional is now defined as that which “is by agreement and what is beneficial”. The appearance of the beneficial, which had not entered into the argument previously, seems to determine natural right contrastively as that which is not primarily concerned with utility, though it can incidentally be useful in different ways (as we saw in the case of the soccer striker). And once more, to clarify the issue, Aristotle gives us an obscure example regarding measures. A similar example, if I understand the issue correctly, would be that of the beneficial, and agreed to, use of human standards such as that of the metric system. We all agree what a 100 meters are, we sense it is beneficial to agree thus, particularly in Olympic races. However the conventional nature of this standard, the metric one, comes to the fore when compared to other systems like the US system and its use of feet. Unfortunately these examples do not refer to lawful arrangements and in this way would seem to differ somewhat from what Aristotle tells us. But if this example is not the best, Aristotle himself has provided us with one in the whole discussion of Justice, that of the use of money by communities. Even the name itself of money, nomisma reflects its conventionality: “this is why money is so called, because it exists not by nature but by custom, and it is in our power to change its value or render it useless” (1133a29-31).

The fact that Aristotle somehow senses that his own example concerning measures is far removed from political justice, surfaces in the line which continues his argumentation. Relativity and conventionality are present not simply in measurements, but principally in political regimes: “the just things that are not by nature but merely by humans are not the same everywhere, since the regimes are not”. It is precisely here where political justice seems to be destined to a relativity based upon the different views of what conventional right is, or might be. But this is not new to Aristotle. He has pointed to this difficulty from the very start of the Book on Justice, particularly in his consideration of justice in the general sense. There justice as the lawful, which aims at securing happiness for the members of the political community, was partly understood as follows:

“the laws prescribe for all departments of life aiming at the common advantage whether of all the citizens, or of the best of them, or of the ruling class, or on some other basis. So in a sense we call just anything that tends to produce or conserve the happiness (and constituents of happiness) of a political association (1129b16-21)

If law so varies from regime to regime, then it seems that the search for a natural right from which to critically assess the different interpretation of the role of law is ruled out as utopian. This troubling conclusion is in fact made worse because of the fact that within each type of regime there exists fallibility as to the setting down of the laws themselves: “the law commands some kinds of behaviour and forbids others; rightly of the law is rightly enacted, but not so well if it is an improvised measure” (1129b28-29). There would then be different types of happiness, one here, one there; all equally unquestionable. Or so it would seem.

Aristotle knows of this variability of conventional law, but he knows too of the necessity of providing a human standard from which judgment can be passed on diversity. This is why the passage we have been analyzing continues precisely by calling forth such criteria. The complete passage reads: “similarly the just things that are not by nature but merely by humans are not the same everywhere, since the regimes are not, THOUGH there is only one that is everywhere according to nature the best”. We stand perplexed for Aristotle seems to want it both ways. He wants to argue that what is merely by humans is not by nature, and presumably all political justice concerns the human, and, therefore cannot be by nature. And yet there is such a regime, he claims, that is by nature the best of possible regimes; and presumably if this regime has anything to tell us humans, then it is of human form. Perhaps natural here could be understood by looking back at the example of the ambidextrous individual. Just as by nature we are all born either right handed or left handed, so by nature, according to Aristotle, we humans are political animals; we live in political associations where alone the good life can be achieved. However all existing regimes deviate to different extents from the best human level of political fulfillment and health; one must therefore seek to understand the complex circumstances in which such deviations have come about.

But if the development of the ambidextrous person requires a level of personal commitment and dedication that is undertaken by few; this effort presumably would be much more difficult to obtain at the level of the whole political community. A tension arises between those transforming themselves in order to become ambidextrous, and the need to transform the political conditions in which becoming ambidextrous rises as a human possibility. As Aristotle puts it:

“As for the education of the individual, that which makes him simply a good man, we must determine later whether it falls under political science or some other, because probably it is not always the same thing to be a good man and a good citizen” (1130b25-30)

But indeed it would seem too that the healthier the regime’s commitment to political justice, the healthier the individuals partaking of that standard; and vice-versa the healthier the individuals, the healthier the political association itself. (e.g. 1129a16-21). Furthermore. the fact that this standard is not a transcendental object independent of the way we humans live in our always imperfect political communities, is hinted too also in the Ethics. The final lines of the work tell us of an investigatory procedure that must be followed to complete our understanding of the realm of the ethical by way of a study of the political:

“So let us first try to review any valid statements … that have been made by our predecessors; and then to consider, in the light of our collected examples of constitutions what influences are conservative and what are destructive of a state …. and for what reasons states are well governed … for after examining these questions we shall perhaps see more comprehensively what kind of constit ution is the best ….” (1181b13-21).

What is by nature the best is not an immutable given, but the end object of a comparative study of the different existing regimes which remain always wanting due to the very complex circumstances in which they develop. In this sense political justice by nature is transformable though it is not made completely anew each time new information is gathered as regards the different conventional political communities. (*14) Respect for multiplicity does not signify not being able to reach out to certain criteria which the best possible polis ought to follow; an issue taken up at length in the Politics.

SECTION II: AQUINAS AND MARSILIUS OF PADUA ON ARISTOTLE: IS A MIDDLE ROAD CONCEIVABLE?

Two of the most important interpretations of the passage we have attempted to clarify have been those of Saint Thomas Aquinas and Marsilius of Padua. Their positions are so divergent that for Strauss they can be said to exemplify the opposition between the ‘theological’ and the ‘philosophical’ interpretations of natural right (Strauss, PAW 96-7). Are these two views thus condemned to the very incommensurability which we have argued an account of natural right seeks to counter at the level of the political? Is one more in accordance with the Aristotelian position as articulated in the text itself? Or do both take from Aristotle what fits their personal mold, so that the Aristotelian perspective is, though transformed, not Aristotelian in a strong sense? Can one, as Strauss proposes, seek some middle road between what, perhaps in the final analysis turn out to be not two extremes in a continuum, but rather two altogether different fields of human understanding? Perhaps by looking critically at each of the authors in turn, we might gain some insight, however slight, on these difficult questions.

Aquinas’ outlook of the world and ourselves is that of one of the major strands to be found within the Catholic tradition; the other being that of Saint Augustine. Because of this, Aquinas superimposes a Catholic mold over the pre-Christian Aristotelian interpretation of natural right. And this does not go by unnoticed when one compares it to the original text in Aristotle. One of the places where this recasting of Aristotle’s wording becomes more salient can be seen in what Aquinas takes to be the relationship between the principles concerning speculative matters, and those that serve as guides for human action in the variable realm of practical affairs. In his commentary on the Ethics he tells us that, just as in speculative philosophy:

“likewise in practical matters there are some principles naturally known as it were, indemonstrable principles and truths related to them, as evil must be avoided, no one is to be unjustly injured, theft must not be committed and so on” (1018)

The ethical, according to Aquinas, deals with indemonstrable principles which we humans ought to take as starting points and guidelines by way of which we can determine the just or unjust nature of actions, both at the level of the individual and that of the political community. Just as we cannot prove Euclid’s most fundamental axioms, so in the realm of conduct we cannot demonstrate the validity of those fundamental principles which determine that evil, injustice and theft ought always, without exception, to be avoided. (*15)

Although it is quite true that Aristotle sometimes speaks in an Aquinas-like fashion, particularly in Book 2 of his Ethics, he nonetheless goes out of his way to clarify more fully what is set there as an introductory framework; one to be followed by different qualifications. The passage in question, which concerns the inexistence of a mean in some cases, reads as follows: “but not every action or feeling admits of a mean; because some have names that directly connote depravity, such as malice, shamelessness and envy and among actions, adultery, theft and murder ….. in either case … one is ALWAYS wrong” (1107a9-15). Though superficially on the same track as Aquinas’ argument, nevertheless Aristotle gives us much more, and much less, than Aquinas does. Aristotle never alludes to any indemonstrable truths, and besides, his longer list includes not only actions, but feelings as well. For Aristotle goodness is concerned not only with the way we act on the world and others, but also, and just as importantly, with the way we are open to this world and others with whom we share in it (1109b30).

Besides Aristotle does not leave this statement, which appears early on in the text, unqualified. Instead his different discussions ——on the difficulty of defining the mean when considered in relation to us and the action concerned, on the relationship between voluntary and involuntary action, and on his analysis of the virtues and the tension present in their being taken as ends in themselves or for the sake of something else—— rids the Aristotelian passage of Aquinas’ sense of immutability and indemonstrability. And this is no surprise to us who sense that Aquinas’ “free(dom) from hesitations and ambiguities” (Strauss, CNR) (*16), is somehow linked to the certainty offered by the presence of clear cut, and clearly articulated, divine commandments. Aquinas lacks, at times, the permanent Aristotelian consideration for the fluidity and flexibility characteristic of the practical affairs in which different human beings are involved. For Aristotle:

“questions of conduct and expediency have as little fixity about them as questions about what is healthful; and if this is true of the general rule, it is still more true that its application to particular problems admits of no precision” (1104a3-7) (see also 1094a11 ff).

(Which is of course not to say that Aristotle does not have criteria for the consideration of an action as praiseworthy or blameworthy). A clear example of the tension between both the Catholic and the Greek outlook can be seen by focusing on one of the actions to which both writers allude, namely, that of theft. For Aquinas “those actions belonging to the very nature of justice cannot be changed in anyway, for example, theft must not be commited because an injustice” (1029). Robbing is an activity that we should strive with all our might to avoid for it involves, under all circumstances, committing an unjustice. Stealing is sinful. In contrast, by taking up the Aristotelian multilayered qualifications, one could eventually come to conceive of, or be actually involved in, situations where stealing would not only not be evil, but perhaps the best possible course of action under the constraining circumstances. War sets the conditions for just this kind of exceptional undertakings. (*17)

But this reading is rather unfair to the very sensitivity which is characteristic of Aquinas’ outlook. The Catholic philosopher himself acknowledges some variability. Nevertheless it concerns not the principles (i.e. no variability in terms of natural right), but the specific actions undertaken. His interpretation of the passage on becoming ambidextrous is here, I think, revealing. He tells us: “so also the things that are just be nature, for example, that a deposit ought to be returned must be observed in the majority of cases but is changed in the minority”(1028) (which deals with part of the first definition of justice given by Polemarchus to Socrates in Plato’s Republic 331d (*18)). However, although this example does qualify somewhat what we previously said, still the principle to which this specific example alludes, is definitely not of the stronger type, the kind which merits inclusion under the Decalogue.

But no matter how the matter stands here, that which is most un-Aristotelian in the whole interpretation by Aquinas on natural right, lies in that the standard upon which such right is founded is not of human origin. Aquinas’ yardstick, though it is in fact related to human rationality ——a faculty Aquinas tells us is shared by all humans making them capable of distinguishing what is disgraceful from what is honorable (1019)—— is itself measured by a not so human standard. Reason is completed only with view to faith; natural right is superseded, or finds its fundamental expression in divine law. As Strauss puts it: “the ultimate consequence of the Thomistic point of view is practically inseparable from natural theology … but even from revealed theology” (Strauss, NRH, 164). This theological perspective retakes some of the conceptions presented by Aristotle, but informs them with a mold which at times does not fit as gracefully as one would desire. Natural right looses the ambivalence which enriched the Aristotelian perspective, and which we saw was continually present in the struggles faced in the passage analyzed. All conventional right, all political justice, can therefore be adequately compared to that standard which holds universally and equally for all. And given that its fundamental seal of guarantee lies not in rationality but rather in faith, no matter what one makes of this position, it remains true that Aquinas’ faith in the Catholic God, as contrasted to the divine in Aristotle, stands unchallenged by any appeal to reason. (*19) Precisely because of this, finding some kind of middle road between this interpretation, and Marsilius’, seems an unfortunate project to undertake. One cannot have both of them at the same time, for their standards for measuring are fundamentally of a different qualitative kind. These would stand very much in accordance to Marsilius view. But to see why this is so, one needs to consider the other side of the balance.

What Strauss calls the ‘philosophical’ interpretation of Aristotle, is carried out by Marsilius of Padua, following Averroes. While the Renaissance writer does take up some of the elements analyzed in the discussion of the Aristotelian passage, his primary objective seems to be to set itself as a radically different alternative to Aquinas’ ‘theological’ view. In that Marsilius seems —–I say ‘seems’ for, as we shall see, this is not completely so—— to set himself against a religious tradition, one finds a first parallel between him and Aristotle. The latter too sets his conception of philosophy against a traditional perspective of the divine which finds its clearest expression in the Delphic inscription found both ethics (EN 1099a26-7). However, the religious traditions which they both question, are of a very different nature.

In his attack on the view of natural right which links it to divine law, Marsilius puts forward two arguments concerning the relationship between it, and its counterpart, conventional right. In order to go through each I will designate the first the ‘as-if’ argument, and the second, the ‘plural rationalities’ argument. According to the first, natural right concerns “that which almost everyone agrees is respectable”. A statement with which neither Aquinas nor Aristotle would agree. On the one hand, for Aquinas it is precisely its immutability that which gives natural right its divine force. On the other, for Aristotle, it is precisely its being independent of opinion that which makes natural right that which it is; general agreement belongs only to the realm of conventional right. Moreover, to differentiate himself much more profoundly from the Catholic alternative, Marsilius includes under this conception the immutable laws which conform the Decalogue; obligations which are, according to Aquinas, exception-free, such as worshiping God and honouring one’s parents. What I have called the ‘as-if’ argument really gets its name it what follows position based on consent. Marsilius understands natural as being conceivable solely in a “metaphorical” sense. If one is clear about natural right, then one does not delude oneself into really believing it can be taken in the literal sense. Natural right is not univocal but equivocal; it is simply a very good intentioned belief we humans hold on to. It is neither an indemonstrable truth as for Aquinas, nor a real standard as for Aristotle.

It is particularly illuminating in understanding the difference between Marsilius and Aristotle, to look at the example concerning the fact that fire burns equally everywhere. In Marsilius its articulation is completely transformed. And this change points us back to one of the prefatory remarks I made in the introduction, namely, that the non-teleological view of the universe is the view of nature open to us moderns. As Marsilius puts it: “like the acts of natural things NOT having purpose are everywhere the same, such as fire which burns here just as it does in Persia”. Nothing would seem more foreign to the Aristotelian conception of teleological nature. For Marsilius, in a universe devoid of purposefulness, the notion of natural right cannot stem from a consideration of an external order which we seek to understand, and in so doing reach our highest potentialities. (However, it seems clear that Aristotle in his own argumentation did not lay claim to such teleology as grounding his own perspective on natural right).

The second argument, what I have called the ‘plural rationalities argument’, seems once again set primarily against Aquinas’ view of natural right; though it is likewise not wholly in accordance with what Aristotle has told us. As we saw, for Aquinas the force of natural right stemmed from the rational capacity we humans have to be able to recognize and live by the principles revealed to us by God. In stark contrast, Marsilius tells us, quite sure of himself —— he uses the words ‘of course’—- that these rational principles (not to say anything of the divine principles underpinning them), are not at all known to all humans. An affirmation which, for instance would still seem not to preclude the search for evangelization. This is so because with an effort on the part of different missionaries, all of us could be brought to finally see and abide by these standards. However, the ignorance of the ‘correct’ principles, for Marsilius, leads consequently to the much more problematic fact that they are “not admitted by all, and all nations do not concede (them) to be respectable”. Presumably those who do not admit them, as opposed to those who are merely ignorant of them, could also be brought to finally admitting them. But the history which lies behind this procedure, particularly in the case of the Catholic Church, would make us now hesitate over considering such “forceful” transformation. Natural right, and it is noteworthy that nowhere does Marsilius mention the example of the ambidextrous human, would then seem to be inexistent. Consequently, any attempt to judge these different nations would be, if not an unrealistic affair, at least a much more arduous one than either Aquina or Aristotle would allow. For Marsilius what each nation finds respectable, is precisely what each holds to be their view of conventional right. Natural right ceases to exist because as Strauss puts it:

“The effectiveness of general rules depends on their being taught without ifs or buts. But the omission of the qualification which makes the rule —— makes them at the same time untrue. The unqualified rules are not natural right but conventional right” (Strauss, NRH, 158).

Or so it would seem. What Strauss does not mention, though it is striking and reminds us of Aristotle’s ambivalence, is that Marsilius, in the end, pauses to tell us that, for the most part, we can still go on with divine law: “There are also precepts, prohibitions, or permissions in accordance with divine law which agree in this respect with human law, which since they are known in many instances, I have not given examples of for the sake of abbreviating this sermon”. But even at this level one would, following Marsilius own propositions, be led to ask; which set of divine laws are you speaking of?

As has been seen, both Aquinas’ and Marsilius’ interpretations not only stand in conflict with each other, but likewise read into, and suspiciously pass over, central elements of the Aristotelian passage analyzed. Furthermore, as we pointed out, seeking to find a middle road between these alternatives is an entreprise which seems to be blind to the fact that both stand in rather different spaces of inquiry. However Strauss has attempted to move in that direction seeking to avoid the extreme immutability of Aquinas’ position, and the extreme variability of Marsilius’. Briefly put, for Strauss natural right consists in highly particular decisions, taken in concrete circumstances. However this variability of the natural is, as in Aristotle, at the same time accompanied by an underpinning sense of what are the ethical principles: “(for) one can hardly deny that in all concrete decisions general principles are implied and presupposed” (159). An instance in which such concrete and variable decision making becomes evident, lies in those extreme circumstances in which the survival of the political community, the existence of the common good itself, is what is at stake. In such circumstances normality is shaken to the point that what becomes primary, and urgently so, is the very survival of the community itself: “in extreme situations the normally valid rules of natural right are justly changed, or changed in accordance with natural right, the exceptions are as just as the rules” (160) (*20). One could ask, however, are extreme situations the only ones in which natural right, in all its variability, appears? Is its scope then so limited as to become rather secondary? Moreover, in a given community one need ask, who is it precisely that decides what constitutes an extreme situation in which normalcy can be temporarily waived? (*21) What if the regime in question precisely seeks such appeals to set itself as unquestionable?

Strauss acknowledges these difficulties in his distancing himself from the Machiavellian conception of natural right, founded on the extreme situations themselves rather than on the normality which Aristotle takes as starting point. Moreover, Strauss points out to a critical standard which, he holds, holds universally for all conventional right:

“there is a universally valid hierarchy of ends, but there are no universally valid rules of action” (162) ….or elsewhere “the only universally valid standard is the hierarchy of ends. This standard is sufficient for passing judgment of the nobility of individuals and of actions and institutions. But it is insufficient for guiding our actions” (163).

Unlike Aquinas’ position, Strauss’ has the virtue of regaining the fluidity and transformability of natural right which characterized the Aristotelian understanding. Likewise, unlike Marsilius’ alternative it does present us, like Aristotle, with some natural standard which would allow political justice to surge above the ephimerality of conventional right. Moreover, he points to the fact that Aristotle’s hesitations stem from the multiplicity of circumstances in which human beings find themselves throughout their lives. As we saw: “questions of conduct and expedience have as little fixity about them as questions about what is healthful; and if this is true of the general urle, it is still more true that its application to particular problems admits of no precision” (1104a4-9). Furthermore, as in Aristotle the focus too is not primarily on knowing what goodness is, but on learning how to become good human beings (1103b28-9) (a statement qualified for young people in 1095a5 who fail to learn anything from lectures on ethics for they are lead away by their passionate natures into different types of actions).

But, precisely how this hierarchy of ends is to be understood is quite a different problem altogether. As we saw not even Aquinas and Marsilius seemed to be in agreement as to an extremely short passage within Aristotle’s text. Presumably then one cannot claim to have the unique interpretation which will, finally, clarify what counts as constitutive of this hierarchy. How to understand is a contested matter presumably to be cleared by reading and re-reading the text itself. However, let us conclude by saying that an elucidation of this hierarchy must consider different passages in which such a hierarchical structuring takes place. Briefly, some of these are: i) the existence of a hierarchy in the arts which culminates in the architectonic arts, ii) the formulation of happiness as the highest possible end for us humans, end under which all other goods are subordinated, iii) the hierarchical division of the soul into the vegetative, the appetitive and the rational (logos); linked to the corresponding proper function of humans according to rational principle, iv) the hierarchy of goods as found in the tripartite division, goods of the body, external goods, and goods of the soul, v) the hierarchy of different types of lives; the life of business, of enjoyment, of politics and of philosophical contemplation, vi) the hierarchy of the moral virtues, hierarchy in which greatness of soul stands as one of the peaks and finally, vii) the peak which justice represents, one revealing a reconsideration of the moral virtues under the perspective of the good, fundamentally, for the other.

FOOTNOTES

INTRODUCTION

1. This important question is posed by Strauss in his Persecution and the Art of Writing pg 95.

2. Strauss goes on to compare modern relativity to nihilism; though he does not mention that nihilism can be of two very different variants, the active and the passive. Nietzsche, Will to Power #22.

3. Strauss agrees with Taylor here, pg. 164

4. Taylor agrees with Strauss here. Section 3.1

SECTION I

5. Arendt deals with this extremely important difference, between the private and the public, in her The Human Condition.

6. A case in point is that of Charly Garcia, a famous Argentinian rock star, and his reinterpretation of the Argentinian National Anthem in heavy metal form. It shocked many Argentinians.

7. Presumably the important issue of equity, as dealing with the faulty generality of law, would somehow be linked to these particular transformations of the law.

8. Parekh gives examples such as this: “In R v Bibi (1980) the Court of Appeal reduced the imprisonment of a Muslim widow, found guilty of importing cannabis, from three years to 6 months on the ground, that, among other things, she was totally dependent on her brother-in-law and was socialized by her religion into subservience to the male members of her household” (200) Other very interesting and complex examples are given in the readings by Carens (see bibliography).

9. The qualification ‘in relation to us’ has taken place not only concerning ethical inquiry in general (1095b11 ff), but also concerning the mean (1106a30 ff)

10. It is interesting to note that under Catholicism the left hand has had a rather unfortunate history. This is more salient in the Spanish words siniestra, the left, and diestra, the right. Siniestra has altogether negative connotations just as sinister does in English.

11. Aquinas gives an example of humans having by nature two feet; this of course is not the Aristotelian example precisely because it does not deal with the transformability of the natural.

12. The connection here between this example and the always elusive issue of health as regards justice (see chapter 1) I believe is there, though I do not quite know how to articulate it fully at the moment.

13. That these matters make a difference can be seen, for instance, if one asks somebody used to one of the given measurements to imagine the other. If somebody asked me, for instance, the altitude of Santafé de Bogotá in feet, I would be at a loss as to what to answer. Though I know, and was brought up to memorize as a child, the corresponding measure in meters.

14. This looking at actual real cases is what lies behind Carens’ appeal to differentiating between policy making and philosophical comprehension, or between idealistic and realistic approaches to politics. He asks one to, rather than staying at one of the extremes. move towards a form of reflexive equilibrium. On a different note, the passage which ends the chapter to be analyzed was left on the side primarily because of the difficulty in viewing how to link it to the whole discussion. Is there such a connection?

SECTION II

15. Of course in modern geometry Euclid’s axioms are only a set of the possible starting points. Conventionality has reached even such indemonstrable truths for us moderns.

16. Kantian ethics is too permeated by this rigidity, primarily as regards its distinction between the moral and the non-moral spheres. There is a sharp line differentiating both.

17. Strauss gives the example of espionage. pg 160

18. Socrates “tricks” Thrasymachus into assuming a natural standard which he himself did not hold by way of his definition of justice with reference to the strongest.

19. The question as to whether one can return to the Greeks, having had 2000 years of Catholic tradition, is a difficult one. One can see he ambivalence in poems such as Rimbaud’s nostalgic Soleil et Chair.

20. The extreme situation for the individual is presented by Aristotle in 1100b31 ff.

21. In Colombia, where I was born, there is such a law which is called “Ley de Conmocion Interior”. It can be set in place when the public order is imperiled; as it has happened many times happens under the Colombian reality, one of a weak form of democracy (some would argue an oligarchy). But it is limited to a 3 month period of application; presumably so that the exception does not become the satte of normalcy. But also so that the government does not use it to further its own objectives. Under this law for instance military officials require no warrants in the persecution of criminals. However the governement has used it, I believe, as a weapon to fight matters which go beyond the defense of the public realm; or at least as a substitute for other measures which would go to the heart of the violence and poverty which permeates everyday reality.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

A) Primary Sources

Aristotle, Ethica Nicomachea, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1rst 1894, 20th 1988, Edited by I. Bywater.

Aristotle, The Ethics of Aristotle, Penguin Books, London, 1rst- 1953, 1988. Translated by J.A.K. Thomson.

B) Secondary Sources

Carens, Joseph, “Complex Justice, Cultural Difference and Political Community”

——– “Realistic and Idealistic Approaches to the Ethics of Migration”

——– “Democracy and Respect for Difference”

Course Handouts:

——Aquinas, Commentary on the Nicomachean Ethics, 1018-1032

——Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, Bk. 5, chap 7 9113418-35a15)

——Marsilius of Padua, Defender of Peace, Discourse 2, Chap 12, sec 7-9

Parekh, Bikhu, “British Citizenship and Cultural Difference”, in Geoff Andrews (de.) Citizenship, Lawrence and Wishart, London, pp.  183-204.

Strauss, Leo, Natural Right and History, University of Chicago Press, “Introduction“ and “Classical Natural Right”, pp.  156-164.

——- Persecution and the Art of Writing, pp.  95-98

Taylor, Charles, Sources of the Self, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, 1990.

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IMPORTANT: PLEASE REDUCE FONT IN BROWSER

AS I HAVE HAD SERIOUS PROBLEMS SCANNING THIS ESSAY

LANGUAGE, GOODS AND DIALOGUE: SOME TENTATIVE ASPECTS OF THE IMMIGRANT CONDITION

INTRODUCTION

Albert Camus carried his beloved Algiers with him throughout his whole life. Both his

body and pen knew of a sky, a sea, a sun and an earth which were radically different

from those of the Europe he went to live in. This other sky, sea, sun and earth were

those that constituted the unforgettable landscapes of his homeland. Camus knew, like

few have, about the life that begins far from one’s native land; a life which in the most

extreme cases is one of exile. In his beautiful short essay entitled Summer in Algiers,

this lyrical philosopher summarizes, in few words, this feeling: “it is well known that

one’s native land is always recognized at the moment of loosing it. For those who are

uneasy about themselves their native land is the one that negates them” (152). (*1)

These brief remarks on Camus allow us to begin to shed some light on the complex

situation in which immigrants from around the globe find themselves. Most

immigrants, I believe, know of this loss, they know of this negation and of this

uneasiness. They are rather daring figures who set out to sail leaving behind the

landscape –usually a nation-state— in which their values, commitments and

practices were set within a meaningful cultural and linguistic context. Immigrants carry

with them more than physical suitcases, they carry a heavy load of cultural heritage

which has shaped and allowed them to grow as they have.

Nevertheless immigrants dare to move, they are not static. To migrate is their

characteristic activity. But once immigrants have ‘landed’, that is to say, have become

‘landed-immigrants’, they come into contact with a societal reality which, to most, is to

a large extent new. It is one with its own standards, language, and modes of self-

perception; one which, perhaps, may appear alien.

It is this double belonging that which, I believe, marks immigrants. It is a tension

governed by Camusian ‘uneasiness’, which, at least, first generation immigrants feel

acutely. And truly there is nothing easy about migration; it is literally, an ‘un’-easy

affair. The familiar is displaced, and in its place, the immigrant is set within an

unfamiliar framework which provides her with, in many cases, radically new conditions

for intelligible and meaningful choice and action. What appeared to be self-evident,

perhaps even unquestionable, seems not to be shared by others who, nevertheless, are

1

set within the same novel reality. Many of our deeply held values and practices arechallenged, subverted, questioned and given new possibilities stemming frominteraction, not only with the mainstream culture, but likewise with the continuousand inevitable sight of other, quite different immigrant cultures. Incomprehensionopens up a space of intercommunication in which a plurality of languages and ways of

life begin to comprehend each other. (*2) This is a space of interaction that, as Walzer

tells us, allows for the birth of a deep type of moral philosophy; ” (one) understood as a

reflection upon the familiar, a reinvcntion of our homes” (Walzer, 17).

Multiculturalism reinvents the homes we carry within. It remodels, redesigns and

makes mirror reflection with others a delightful necessity. But multiculturalism can

also, by being denied its enriching possibilities, be simply seen as a destructive

tendency which must be demolished in order to preserve the secure foundations of

either, a mainstream society which sees itself threatened by the influx of difference

and diversity, or of severed islands populated by minority groups intent on

hermetically safeguarding themselves from any change whatsoever.

In this essay, I would like to explore some of the primary moral issues that spring

from these brief considerations on immigrants. My concern is purely normative, in

other words, I am concerned with considering some aspects of ‘ought’-questions such

as for instance; what are some of the factors that ought to be considered in trying to

begin to understand the complexity of the immigrant minority groups’ situation, and

their interaction with mainstream society? This theoretical overweight will clearly

make of the discussion something quite unbalanced. (*3) If, as Carens tells us, “any

discussion of the ethics of migration should (not only) recognize reality, ….. (but) also

consider whether we should embrace that reality as an ideal or regard it as a limit to be

transcended as soon as possible”, then this essay lies on the idealistic end of the

spectrum of possible analysis (Carens RIAEM, 9).

In particular, my central concern will be to point out some of the relevant aspects that

must be considered if any headway is to be achieved in the relationship between

immigrant minorities and the society within which they are set. In order to get clearer

on them, I propose to divide the essay in three sections. In the first, I will take up the

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crucially important issue of language by focusing on Will Kymlicka’s Multicultural

Citizenship. Here I will try to, briefly and sketchily, elucidate the central importance of

considering not only the protection and preservation, but also the positive

enhancement of the conditions for the adequate flourishing of immigrants’ mother

tongue (particularly in cases where numbers warrant). Immigrants surely leave what

some have designated as the ‘father’ land, but just as surely they cannot leave behind,

what others have called, the ‘mother’ tongue. Although Kymlicka sets out to give some

mechanisms for ensuring special group differentiated rights for immigrants, as we shall

see, he nevertheless greatly, and dangerously, ends up watering these claims down.

This is specially so in what he himself acknowledges to be one of the most central

aspects of culture, the issue of language.

In the second section, I will take up Waldron’s view of cosmopolitanism which claims

that our modern allegiance goes beyond any specific and limited communal

framework. Instead, he sees in Rushdie’s writings a more adequate and faithful

reflection of the hybrid nature characteristic of modern, globally interdependent,

societies. Nevertheless, although claiming to be speaking from an immigrant’s

perspective, I would like to look more closely at the underlying ‘thin theory of the

good’ which cements his argument (as well as Kymlicka’s), and its linkage to a very

particular view of the self. From the immigrants perspective, I believe, these two

presuppositions may not only seem at odds with the societal culture within which they

have been brought up, but likewise can actually be detrimental and dangerous to the

healthy survival and flourishing of theirs, and their children’s, identity.

Penally, in section III, I will address Parekh’s views on the complexity of British

society understood as a multiethnic reality. I will restate there what I take to be

Parekh’s most important contributions to the debate; contributions which, like this

essay, move more on the level of a normative theory of migration rather than on the

needy-greedy conditions for its real application in politically complex circumstances.

Re-reading Parekh will allow us to see how the relationship between immigrants and

mainstream society is one involving a continual give and take, a game in which both

parties, if there concern is to foster healthy and mutually enriching conditions for

3

dialogue, must listen and respect each other’s voices. For Parekh “integration requiresmovement on both sides, otherwise it is an imposition” (B , 105).JSECTIQN I: CULTURE, LANGUAGE AND IMMIGRANTSIf what Parekh says is true, ‘words are never mere words …. they shape our

understanding and approach of the world” (BCCD, 183), then Kymlicka’s being a

philosopher aids us immensely. His attempt to understand the language of minority

rights within the liberal tradition starts to give us a vocabulary “appropriate to

nuances” (30); a vocabulary which is sensitive to a variety of hard cases and difficult

grey areas (19). It is a novel conceptual scheme which challenges the narrow focus of

the previously held frameworks stemming from the liberal tradition itself. Some of

these ended up, and continue defending, the erroneously held view of justice based

on benign neglect for minorities; a policy based on the mistaken assumption of

neutrality of the liberal state (56). In contrast, Kymlicka’s is an investigative procedure

which aims, not at hermetically closing itself upon its findings, but one which is rather

focused on opening the discussion through the portrayal of a plurality of empirical

cases and a historical tracing of the complex issue of a theory of minority rights within

the liberal tradition.

Kymlicka provides us, in different ways, with conceptual novelty, reconstruction and

clarification. First, in his view of multiculturalism as assuming two main possible

forms: 1) as ‘multinarion multiculturalism’, arrived at through the incorporation of

previously self-governing, territorially concentrated, cultures into larger states, or 2) as

‘polyethnic multiculturalism’, that is to say, a type of pluralism arising from the

incorporation of multiple immigrant cultures within a mainstream culture by way of

individual and familial uprooting (*1). A second novelty in Kymlicka’s analysis lies in

his tripartite division of ‘group differentiated rights’ for minorities; a) ‘self-government

rights’ which allow for a delegation of powers to national minorities through the

development of different forms of federalism, b) ‘polyethnic rights’ related to financial

4

and legal protection, as well as active support, for different cultural practices pertainingto ethnic groups, and finally, c) ‘special representation rights’ which guarantee seats ingovernmental institutions for minorities which would otherwise remain unheard. Thethird novel addition which Kymlicka puts forward in his book is that of the dualanalysis of ‘collective rights’ — a distortive and over-generalizing category (39) — in

terms of, either ‘external protections’, a group’s right to limit the power exercised by

the larger society thus ensuring the conditions for its survival and positive flourishing,

or ‘internal restrictions’, a culture’s right to limit its own individual’s liberties for the

sake of a good held in common by the larger group. (*2) Finally, Kymlicka reconstructs

and reinterprets the fundamental concepts of freedom and equality — which have

been considered by liberals fundamentally from the perspective of human rights —

by incorporating onto this incomplete analysis, not only an emphasis on the

individual’s belonging to a societal culture, but also by recovering the previously

mentioned ‘group differentiated rights’ which alone can allow for free and equal

interchange between minorities and majorities within democratic governments. (^3)

Having briefly and too tightly laid out the central aspects of Kymlicka’s rich

conceptual clarifications and innovations, it will now be easier to focus on the issue of

immigration which, according to the diverse categories mentioned above, must be seen

under the broad category of multiculturalism as polyethnic, and with reference to

rights involving some type of polyethnic claims for external protections.

Among the different reasons for the suspicious silence of contemporary liberal

political thought on minority issues (M), Kymlicka mentions the ethnic revival in the

US of the 1960’s and 1970’s: “the increasing politicizarion of immigrant groups

profoundly unsettled the American liberals, for it affected the most basic assumptions

and self-conceptions of American political culture” (52) (*S). The uneasiness of which

Camus spoke seems to have become contagious. It stemmed from the fact that

immigration, without some adequate process of integration, was perceived

theoretically to challenge the very foundation of US society. A melting pot must

somehow melt if it is to continue existing as such. (*6). For US political theorists, the

way to keep the melting going, was to adopt a policy of benign neglect towards

5

immigrant affairs; a policy which held that minorities not only have no special rights toclaim, but that such claiming can lead to the dangerous destabilizarion of the veryconditions for social cohesion and bonding required to unite a society under acommonly held banner(s).Unlike US theorists, Kymlicka denies the possibility of ever achieving a neutral state

which can, by remaining silent on minority issues, actually promote a just interaction

between the mainstream culture and those which lie in the outskirts- F’or Kymlicka

immigrant groups have a right to group differentiated rights; without them they will

remain invisible, unheard and voiceless (53). For the Canadian writer, the US

theoreticians’ fears were born out of a misperception, namely, that the purpose of the

ethnic revival was to end up in the creation of separate self-governing ethnic islands

which posed a real threat to the unity of the “united states”. For Kymlicka, on the

contrary, such ethnic revival aimed rather at demanding an appropriate level of

recognition for the minority ethnic groups. Ethnic groups were struggling to defend

their peculiar and distinctive identities and cultural modes of expression. Ethnic

revival “involved a revision of the terms of integration, not a rejection of integration”

(83). This is why, unlike his colleagues south of the border, the Canadian philosopher

believes that the demands set forth by immigrant groups do not aim at consolidating

^elf-government rights, but rather different types of permanent polyethnic rights. For

Kymlicka the crucial difference can be elucidated by contrasting the goals and

conditions which have characterized both, colonists, and immigrants:

“There was a fundamentally different set of expectations accompanying

colonists and immigrants, the former resulted from a deliberate policy aimed at

the systematic recreation of an entire culture in a new land; the latter resulted

from individual and familial choice to leave their society and join another

existing one” (81)

Nevertheless Kymlicka recognizes that it is not absolutely illogical too think of a future

scenario in which, territorially concentrated, and culturally consolidated immigrant

groups, could in effect forge such a strong sense of identity as to seek some kind of

self-government rights, even separation. Kymlicka is Canadian; he knows of Quebec

and its particularity; a particularity to which we shall return. But, while Kymlicka

6

acknowledges this as a possibility, it is not, according to him, a morally permissible

alternative for immigrants. Immigrants ought not to actively seek such a goal. This is

so, the argument goes, because immigrants, the parents at least, have chosen to leave

their homeland, thus waiving their claims to self-governance:

“Immigrants have no legitimate basis to claim national rights. After all they had

come voluntarily knowing that integration was expected of them. When they

chose to leave their culture and come to America, they voluntarily

relinquished their national membershipfad/narional rights which go with it”

(53) ^

(Although here Kymlicka is arguing for the case of ethnic revival in the US, it is a

position which he not only endorses, as we shall go on to see, but which permeates the

whole of his conceptual framework; one in which the duality between

multinarionalism from polyethinicity is found again and again)

Whoever re-reads the previous quote, might be somewhat puzzled by its claim that

immigrants “chose to leave their culture”. Surely what Kymlicka must mean is that

immigrants leave behind the “nation-state” (or some such political structure) to which

they belonged. Leaving a territory is, more or less, an easy matter; but leaving one’s

culture, as Camus reminded us, not an easy one at all. And Kymlicka is well aware of

this. This is the main reason why, within his interpretation, he is at pains to point out

that the liberal notion of individual freedom is one which can only be made sense of by

shedding light on its intricate linkage to the societal culture within which the

individual is ‘thrown’. This concept of societal culture is defined by Kymlicka as

“a culture which provides its members with meaningful ways of life across a full

range of human activities, including social, education, religion, recreational and

economic life, encompassing both public and private spheres. These cultures

tend to be territorially-concentrated, and based on a shared language” (67)

According to this definition of ‘societal culture’ immigrants seem to be in a tight spot.

They have left one such societal culture, the one in which they were raised throughout

their whole life, but at the same time they are just beginning to enter one of which

they know few aspects; perhaps not even the language. The problem is made more

acute within Kymlicka’s own argument precisely because it is the societal culture

7

which provides any human being with the meaningful context of choice.Understanding the praxis of a given agent then, under this particular view, implies to acertain extent comprehending the cultural background in which the individual is set.Furthermore, for Kymlicka, the way that this process of comprehension goes aboutinvolves an understanding, not only of the language used in the mainstream culture

which immigrants enter, but moreover an understanding of the practices for which

language stands as expressive realization:

“to understand the meaning of a social practice therefore requires,

understanding the shared vocabulary –i.e. understanding the language and

the history which constitute this vocabulary, whether or not a course of action

has any significance for us depends on whether, and how, our language renders

vivid to us the point of that activity …… understanding those cultural narratives

is a precondition of making intelligent judgments about how to lead our

lives”(72)

Understanding the shared vocabulary of, let us say, Canadians, means not only having

high-level linguistic skills (something difficult to achieve(*7)), but furthermore a

sense of the values and commitments underlying the diverse linguistic functions which

Canadians use in their everyday life. However, immigrants are precisely characterized

by their (unless they are extremely qualified and fast language learners) standing in a

complex situation where two different narratives meet; one very deeply entrenched

and in danger of dying, the other barely born and in danger of being misunderstood.

According to Kymlicka, unless the conditions for this mutual understanding are fully

met, the context of choice for immigrants wi\\ not be one which does justice to their

dilemma. Intelligent judgments for immigrants involve two narratives: one readily

available, but context-less, the other one yet to be written and not even, for some,

faintly comprehended.

Nevertheless, for Kymlicka, since immigrants have voluntarily uprooted themselves

from their countries of origin, in doing so they have relinquished some of the rights

which went with belonging to a ‘secure’ societal culture which was territorially

concentrated and shared a distinct language. Immigrants, Kymlicka tells us have

“relinquished some of the rights that go along with their original national

membership” (81). But even if this is true, still, Kymlicka wants to argue that even in

8

the case of immigrants, their societal culture cannot be simply overseen. Kymlickaknow\s we\\ of the tense situation in which immigrants find themselves:”they have left behind the set of institutionalized practices conducted in theirmother tongue which actually provided culturally significant way of life topeople in their homeland, they bring wdth them a ‘shared vocabulary of

tradition and convention’, but they have uprooted themselves from the societal

practices which this vocabulary originally referred to and made sense of.” (68)

Having acknowledged that immigrants cannot simply do away with their cultural

make-up, Kymlicka then goes on to inquire whether they should be allowed to seek an

active and strong flourishing of their respective culturally shared practices, their sense

of self-identity, and their communal modes of belonging and understanding. To put in

interrogative terms, if people have such a deep bond to their societal culture why

should immigrants not be allowed to develop, to a large extent, their societal cultures

within the space they have been allowed to land in? Kymlicka himself classifies the

problematic as one of the ‘hard cases’ with which a liberal theory of minority rights

must deal. (80). The problem is clearly an ‘un’-easy one.

At different points throughout his book, Kymlicka allows for two types of external

protections to which immigrants, and presumably their descendants, have access; this

h even after having acknowledged their having uprooted themselves. In Chapter 2 he

tells us that the first kind is of a negative character, they are linked to the fighting of

prejudice and discrimination through, for instance, antidiscrimination laws. These

law^s, more than promoting the development of a given group, prevent its dissolution

through reference to human rights in general; it is in this sense that they can be

understood as belonging to a negative policy, the aim of which is simply the physical

survival of those concerned. But Kymlicka goes beyond these.

The second type of polyethnic rights to which immigrants are entitled involve a

much more positive political stance. It is one which actually seeks, not simply to build

thin layered protective walls around disadvantaged groups — a procedure which can

lead to viewing these minorities as an unproductive burden and an unwelcome

responsibility — but rather to build healthy and just interactions which foster the

growth of cultural elements from diverse ethnic communities and their enriching

9

variety of ways of life. Among the latter Kymlicka allows for two distinct cases: a)public funding of cultural and artistic (even linguistic classes) where the market andpolitical forces would greatly disadvantaged minority groups and their numericalinferiority, and b) religious cases in which minority ethnic groups have beendisadvantaged, albeit not intentionally, as for instance in dress codes, traffic laws,

holiday celebrations and economic issues such as that of Sunday closing. (22-23)

Now, while it seems that Kymlicka has provided quite a lot of strongholds upon

which immigrants can seek to safeguard and promote their culture, nevertheless he

seems to shy away from the strong kind of polyethnic rights which would be required if

he took seriously his claims concerning the centrality of societal culture as a context of

choice and meaningfulness for individuals from different cultures. This is nowhere

rendered more problematic than in the case of the defense of immigrant languages.

Are immigrants, and particularly their children, condemned to view their language,

their shared vocabulary, as a nice relic worthy of the admiration reserved for museum

pieces which are doomed to constant and unrelenting fading away? Are immigrants and

their children condemned to relegate their language simply to the private sphere in

order that a more secure mainstream societal culture can flourish?

Kymlicka himself acknowledges that “it is very difficult for languages to survive in

modern industrialized societies when they are not used in public life” (68). Immigrant

languages then would seem to be set on a destructive course. Immigrants uprooted

themselves voluntarily, so they must, to put it rather crudely, somehow pay for their far

from wise decision; or so it seems. I add ‘or so it seems’, because even in the case of

languages Kymlicka is sensitive to the complexity of the issue. This is why he

dedicates a few lines to the issue of ESL teaching for immigrants. Presumably if

immigrants ought to learn the ways of the societal culture they have entered, then

learning the language in which this community deals is the most important aspect of

integration; one which can morally be demanded of all immigrants who arrive to

English-speaking, immigrant receiving countries, such as Canada and the US.

Kymlicka, in his struggle to provide immigrant groups with polyethnic rights, tells us

10

that ESL courses must move away from the view that imposes English as uniquelanguage:”current policy has operate on the assumption that the ideal is to makeimmigrants and their children as close as possible to unilingual speakers ofEnglish (i.e. that learning English requires losing their mother tongue), rather

than aiming to produce people who are fluently bilingual (i.e. that learning

English involves gaining a language, in addition to one’s mother tongue)” (82)

Given this passage it would seem then that Kymlicka, finally, provides the basis in his

argument for a strong immigrant defense of their minority languages- Nevertheless this

is not the case, and precisely here, is where Kymlicka disconcerts the most.

Kymlicka’s doubts and hesitations on the immigrant language issue can be seen when

he discusses the case of Quebec and its special status within Canada as French

sneaking national minority It is not a chance event that Kymlicka discusses both the

Quebec issue and the immigrant issue side by side. Perhaps he fears, just as the US

theorists he himself criticizes feared, that immigrant groups will in a distant future

evolve into such a strong position, with such a strong differentiating identity7, that they

will seek for themselves some claims of regarding self-government rights; perhaps

even to the extreme of secession-

According to Kymlicka the Quebecois do have a claim (and have greatly advanced in

this resnect, as the referendum clearly shows) to group differentiated rights within the

whole Canadian context founded on a tacitly accepted form of asymmetrical

federalism. Nevertheless the Quebecois are not immigrants, they should be

considered, within Kymlicka’s framework, instead as original colonists with particular

multinational rights. This is why they have a right to exercise strong forms of group

differentiated rights (in its three forms) at three levels: i) the individual level,

francophones outside Quebec have access to public services in French; ii) the group

level French-speaking parents can demand a French school where numbers warrant it

(Kvmiicka does not mention Bill 101 and its ‘internal restrictions’ here); and finally, iii)

the provincial level, in order to preserve culture and the conditions for the active

flourishing and recognition of the French-speaking minority in North America. But no

11

such strong rights are accessible to any immigrant groups whatsoever; they areconceived of as groups of uprooted ethnic communities, not as national minorities (*8).Presumably then, newly arrived immigrants will have, under these conditions, tostruggle hard to preserve their own languages given that the language of the publicsphere will remain English in the US and Canada, and French within the, up to today,

province of Quebec. Integration of the first generation immigrants will remain a

difficult task, for if learning a language takes years of dedication, understanding the

context of that language much more than that. But what is truly more troublesome is

the situation which second generation and even third generation immigrants face. If

language is so central to the definition of a societal culture, then by not providing an

adequate defense and a positive enhancement of immigrant languages, the children of

immigrants will be left with, at best, only one societal culture within which to choose

how to be, that of the mainstream English (or French). It seems to me highly

implausible to preserve central, core-type, polyethnic rights without granting much

more than anti-discriminatory laws and religious “exemptions”. And Kymlicka himself

is not silent on this issue either; but his answer reveals his fundamental fear of any

strong type of ethnic revival which emerges from a strong definition of identity which

need not, as he fears, end up in claims of national minorities:

“adult immigrants may be willing to accept a marginalized existence in their

new country, neither integrated in to the mainstream culture nor able to

recreate their old culture. But this is not acceptable for children … Parents at

least had the benefit of being raised in a societal culture in their homeland … If

we do not enable immigrants to recreate their old culture then we must

strenuously work to ensure that children integrate into mainstream” (91, FN 19)

Parents have waived their right to security, so to speak; they were free to be insecure,

but not to make their children insecure beings. But children must be afforded the kind

of security7 which will enable to them to be brought up under adequate social

conditions. In order to do so Kymlicka seems to be arguing that a ‘strenuous effort’

must be made to make them into mainstream beings who learn from their parents’

inadequate marginalized existence. But this is precisely to do away with the | //

foundation of any strong sense of multiculturalism which is founded, as the word

12

portrays, on different cultures (minority and majority), not on a set of watered downcultural backgrounds. It seems to me Kymlicka gives a strong blow to the chances of astrong and healthy deep diversity which, in the Canadian environment could be, asTaylor puts it, a true object of pride; one “where a plurality of ways of belonging wouldalso be acknowledged and accepted”? (Taylor, SDV, 75). (*9)

In yet another of his interesting footnotes Kymlicka tells us that linguists consider

language to be a “dialect with an army” (93, #28). Mainstream culture truly can

become like this, failing to perceive the richness and possibilities of a stronger

perspective on polyethnic rights concerning language. Perhaps security will not follow,

but it will not follow either from failing to see the problematic at hand. And besides, as

Walzer tells us “morality …. is something we have to argue about. The argument

implies common possession, but common possession does not imply agreement”

(Walzer, 3PI, 32). Even though Kymlicka fights hard for some kind of polyethnic

rights, he ends up by denying any strong version of these. He lowers the level of

argumentation by implying that common possession must follow from a very strong

sense of agreement.

SECTION II: COSMOPOLITANISM AND ITS ASSUMPTIONS

Immigrants are caught up in a two-sided struggle which pulls them in two directions.

In the first place they seek to preserve their valuable cultural heritage, not simply for

the sake of the first generation, but, presumably, also of the benefit of their

descendants. However, this tendency is set limitations, by the cultural

forces of the society they enter upon having left their homeland. Immigrants therefore,

  • )

and those who receive and welcome them, must search jointly for some sort of balance

between their, at times, conflicting claims, rights and obligations.

The political structure which immigrants migrate into, the one governing countries

such as Canada and the US, is that of the western tradition of democratic liberalism. It

is a form of political government to which most immigrants have had some access,

though of course, in different degrees and forms. This particular tradition is one that

13

holds that a critical stance towards the goods valued by the individual is, thoughdifficult, both possible and desirable. This modern perspective is itself the product ahistorical tradition born out of the Enlightenment. While enlightening implies,negatively, liberating one from the obscurity of traditional conceptions of the good, thisnew born tradition knows likewise of the possibility of a self-critique, that is to say, it is

intent on coming to an understanding of its own limits of understanding and practice.

(*1)

Within the liberal branch of the Enlightenment, individual liberty and autonomy, the

capacity to deliberate and choose among conflicting goods for oneself, becomes a

central commitment. This is one of the reasons the individual has the right and

capacity to become highly critical of the political, religious and social community in

which she is born. This is a point of view to which Kymlicka holds allegiance, for “it

allows to choose a conception of the good life and then allows then to reconsider that

decision and opt a new and hopefully better plan of life” (70).

The end, or ends, which guide our everyday practice, are no longer static and

unquestionable, but rather dynamic and requiring a continuous investigatory capacity

capable of revising, reconsidering, even rejecting them. This is, of course, not to say

that the individual is to be held up as the atomic center of the universe. Kymlicka

already let us see the crucial force of a societal culture as framework of choice for each

agent; society is constitutive of the individual’s identity and possibilities of self-

understanding. Nevertheless this position claims that there is in reality a peculiarly

modern human capacity to stand back and question the presuppositions, not only of

other culture’s goods, but of those which provide its own conceptual and practical

framework:

“the freedom which liberals demand of the individual is not primarily the

freedom to go beyond one’s language and history, but rather the freedom to

move around within one’s societal culture, to distance oneself from particular

cultural roles, to choose which features of the culture are most worth

developing, and which are without value” (Kymlicka, 78)

Liberals like Kymlicka, do not want to argue that a pure objective stance is humanely

possible. This is so for stepping wholly outside one’s own tradition is as impossible, as

14

stepping outside one’s very own skin. Walzer’s defense of the path of interpretation inmoral affairs is here particularly illuminating: “I do not mean to deny the reality of theexperience of stepping back, though I doubt that we can ever step back all the way tonowhere. Even when we look at the world from somewhere else, however, we are stilllooking at the world” (Walzer, 6). And presumably ‘the’ world means here in some

deep sense ‘our’ world, that which springs forth form ‘our’ interpretation.

If one inquires as to why it is that this standing back is possible in this Western

tradition, while it remains inexistent in many others — at least to the same degree

and in the same form — part of the answer seems to lie in the conception of the good

underlying it. This stance, common to both Kymlicka’s multiculturalism and

Waldron’s cosmopolitanism, is founded upon a peculiar view of the good for human

beings; it is that of a ‘thin’ theory of the good, as opposed to a ‘thick’ or ‘substantive’

one. According to Waldron this conception “give(s) us the bare framework for

conceptualizing choice and agency, but leaving the specific content of choices to be

filled up by the individuals” (20) (*2\ \

But, even though Kymlicka and Waldron share the same thin theory of communal

and individual goods, they are led to radically different positions regarding the defense

of the goods held as valuable, and in need of defense, by minority groups. Unlike

Kymlicka’s triad of group differentiated rights, which places barriers on the goods held

by majorities within liberal democratic states, Waldron pushes the view of a thin theory

of the good to its extreme in his view of the alternative to a defense on

communitarianism –in Kymlicka’s terminology ‘societal culture’– namely,

cosmopolitanism.

He finds this perspective expressed most clearly in Rushdie’s immigrant perception

of modern Britain’s multiethnicity. What shines forth in the persecuted author’s

writings is a migrant’s perspective of the kaleidoscopic reality in which she lives daily.

It is a realization of the hybrid and highly amorphous structure of the public sphere in

which she moves about. Members of such a diffuse, tension full and diversified reality,

are keen on questioning the fundamental tradition(s) in which they were brought up

for they “refuse … to think of (them)selves as defined by (their) location or (their)

15

ancestry or (their) citizenship or (their) language”. (Waldron, 753). Meaningfulnesslies not in the sharing of a unique piece of land, or a singularly held language, or ahomogeneous and secure societal culture, but rather in the intermingling of diversesocietal cultures with different languages encountering each other publicly on a day today basis. Authenticity and human fulfillment lie, not in complete allegiance and

rootedness in one’s or anyone’s traditional culture, but in a never finished web of

relativized and multivocal threads of discourse which conform the public arena of

polyethnic societies.

Under this perspective, the emphasis on the validity of a mongrel-type lifestyle

stands in opposition to the conformation of isolated islands made up of self-enclosed,

and externally protected societal cultures (752). The communitarian idea “that there is

a universal human need for rootedness in a particular community (which) confers

character and depth on our choices and actions”, is misguided and even dangerously

misrepresentarive of a dynamic reality which it, not only fails to see correctly, but

worse yet, actively covers up.

Allegiance now makes sense primarily, though not exclusively, at the level of the

global community which, according to Waldron, has come to represent the real realm

on intelligible economic, moral and political interdependence (771). (*3). Only via a

defense of such a broad community, and its international organizations, can there be a

real understanding and effective battle of global issues such as redistribution, pollution

and resource depletion. (770). Just as the communitarians understand the individual

with reference to a particular community, Waldron believes that their argument

nowadays ought to be pushed further. This to the point where individual communities

can only be made sense of, now, with reference to the global framework: “no honest

account of our being will be complete without an account of our dependence on large

social and political structures that goes far beyond the particular community with

which we pretend to identify ourselves” (780).

The ties that help constitute our identity(ies) do not pertain to one individual societal

culture, as it seems Kymlicka argues at times, but rather to a plurality of these; all of

16

which shower us with a great number of different narratives, goods, meaningfulfragments, multiple images and moral valuations. For Waldron:”From the fact that each option must have a cultural meaning, it does not followthat there must be one cultural framework in which each available option isassigned a meaning. Meaningful options may come to us as items or fragments

from a variety of cultural sources” (783)

We do in fact need cultural material in order to provide the context for meaningful

choices, but what we do not need is ONE unique, more or less homogeneous and

secure cultural framework. We need choices in a plural context and not one context for

choosing. The preeminence of one societal culture would in fact lessen the

possibilities of reaching out for diversity. Furthermore, by placing all ‘strenuous

efforts’, as Kymlicka argues, in securing one social structure, its component elements

are much less easily opened up to new and enticing possibilities.

This is why, for Waldron, securing and preserving minority cultures, and cultures in

general, is a way, not of promoting such enriching diversity, but rather of clogging up

the sources which feed the ground for mutual interaction:

“cultures live and grow, change and sometimes whither away; they amalgamate

with other cultures or they adapt themselves to geographical and demographic

necessity, to preserve a culture is often to take a favored snapshot version of it

and insist that this version must persist at all costs, in its defined purity,

irrespective of the surrounding social, economic and political circumstances”

(787-8)

According to Waldron, if we are to take seriously the cosmopolitan alternative, then

excessively campaigning for minority rights is seen almost as a backward tendency.

Kymlicka, who himself views a conception of the thin good as desirable, provides us

with some elements to criticize Waldron’s argument. His arguments are put forward

immediately following the already analyzed ‘hard cases’ which included among them

the ‘un’-easy case of immigrants. While Kymlicka acknowledges the enriching power

of intercultural exchange, he is likewise quick to point out that “there are limits in the

cultural material which people find meaningful” (86). Why is this so? Well because for

Kymlicka, although he subscribes to a thin theory of the good just as Waldron does, his

-tv

thinness is radically less thin than the required for a strong version of cosmopolitanism.

/’

17

Different societal cultures share a language which gives and shapes the sensepossibilities of practices and ideas. Snatches of culture dragged out of context loosetheir deeper meaning, they remain context-less and in this way extremelyimpoverished. Ridding cultural elements to a large extent from their original languageleads to incomprehension of words and actions. For Kymlicka “options are available to

us if they become part of the shared vocabulary of social life , i.e., embodied in the

social practices based on a shared language that we are exposed to” (86).

It is precisely because of this that the protection of minority right, particularly in the

case of immigrants becomes a necessity. This is so because of the inexistence of a

neutral sphere in which all cultural components of the cosmopolitan alternative are set.

Waldroifs alternative seems to presuppose that all traditions entering upon the public

sphere enter into it as equals. Only in this way can a strong view of hybrid reality make

sense. Unfortunately while Waldron delights, as we all should, in the intercultural

exchange which marks immigrant receiving countries, he does away with the very

conditions for the active flourishing, rather than mere preservation, of the roots from

which a strong multi-cultural reality springs. While Waldron seems led to deny special

immigrant treatment because of his anricommunitarian arguments, Kymlicka, as we

saw in the previous section^ does not go far enough.

What is so problematic in Waldron’s argument, from the perspective of immigrant

groups, comes to light clearly in his conception of the cosmopolitan picture of the self.

Its amorphous identity is based, not on any kind of hierarchical structuring based on

some special elite’s perception of some substantive view of the good, but rather on the

democratic governance of a pluralistic society of equals brought together by their

sharing a ‘thin’, perhaps too thin, theory of the good.

However, minority groups are so thin themselves as compared to majority traditions,

that, under Waldron’s conditions they will truly, I believe, disappear; their deep

richness condemned to invisibility and inaudibility. As Iris Young argues: “democratic

public should recognize mechanisms for the effective representation and recognition of

the distinct voices and perspective of those of its constituent groups who are oppressed

or disadvantaged within it” (Young, 261). While Waldron cherishes the hybridity born

18

out of interaction between cultures, he precisely takes out the very protectivefoundations which can guarantee real complex intermingling. If in Kymlicka’sargument the future scenario ends up being a secure societal culture, under Waldron’sperspective security will, in the long haul, end up being achieved by a mainstreamsociety free from the struggles of any communitarian oriented minorities.

A second serious problem in Waldron’s view of the self, from the perspective of

immigrants, lies in its relation to the identity struggles faced by immigrant children.

While his view of the self can in fact lead to an enriching and multiply fulfilling

condition; while it is true that this selfs tension, its chaotic nature and healthy

confusion, can lead — perhaps is the main road — to an artistic creation such as

Rushdie’s, it is also true that not all immigrants are potential Rushdie’s who can

articulate the confusion in which they are set in. Immigrant children do in fact face this

same kind of chaotic self structure, but from them, as we shall see in the next section,

there do not spring literary works, but rather a lack of self-esteem and disorientarion. A

senselessness born precisely out of the lack of the adequate conditions for the

reccognition

Finally, I would just like to question the very idea put forward at the beginning of

‘ this second section; the one dealing with a critical stance based on a thin theory of the

good. It makes one wonder whether Waldron, while trying to argue for a hybrid

\~\

coexistence of cultures, does in fact end up putting forward only ONE alternative,

namely, the one which is based on a very thin theory of the good in which real deep

ties to one’s culture are to be seen as radically suspicious; and the incapacity to

question these as absolutely inauthentic. But in the case of immigrants precisely this

perspective is what can in the fact be missing, at least to the same degree and in the

same form. Take for instance family ties; while family ties seem linked to the nuclear

family in North America, few North Americans would comprehend the virtual

necessity for some people of living in an extended family; living outside these is like

being torn apart. This is why I tend to believe that the most valuable aspect of the

liberal tradition which can stand back from its goods is that it can stand back, prior to

judging other communities’ goods, from its own goods by assuming a self-critical

19

stance. This inward turn, if done properly, can then truly pave the way to thepossibility of a dialogue which is both more honest and much deeper; one whichrespects the fact that other communities do not share the same goods as it does, and donot share the same type of questioning as it can.SECTION III: PAREKH ON IMMIGRANTS

In his paper on aboriginal Canadians, Alain Cairns points to the fact that the broad

category, ‘aboriginal’, tends to cover up the diverse traditions that, if one looks up

close, are found within it: “Metis, Inuit, and Status Indians are very different ways of

being aboriginal that derive from distinct histories and particular interactions with

Euro-Canadian society” (3). Simplifying reality conceptually can lead to overseeing the

real complexity which lies behind such all-encompassing terms.

This is likewise the case, I believe, with the broad category of ‘immigrant’. The term,

of course, is not only inevitable because it facilitates overall discussion and general

policy planning, but it does so —if it simply stays at this level of generality– by

homogenizing widely diverging experiences of different immigrant groups constituted

through varying traditions, histories, purposes and languages.

Kymlicka’s astonishing sensibility to difference is here lacking. Although he does, in

the case of Hispanics, differentiate between four groups –national minorities

(Chicanes and Puerto Ricans), refugees (Cubans), illegal workers (Mexican) and

immigrants (presumably Central and South America)— he fails to sec the latter

category’s internal diversity. Spanish immigrants, while certainly sharing the Spanish

language, do not by any means share the same societal culture. (This, not only across

boundaries such as for instance Colombia and Venezuela, but within boundaries

themselves due to the huge class differences which grow out economic disparities.)

Kymlicka himself acknowledges that sharing a language, while being a necessary

condition for sharing a culture, is not a sufficient one for doing so: “while the members

of a culture share the same language, it does not follow that all people who share the

same language belong to the same culture. Not all anglophones in the world belong to

20

the same culture” (93, footnote 28). By the same token, not all Spanish speakingimmigrants belong to the same culture. And if this is so for Spanish speakingimmigrants, well one can truly see the necessity of considering the difficulty ofviewing all immigrants as somehow commensurable to each other, for instance,because of their having uprooted themselves.

In contrast, Parekh is extremely conscious of the importance of signaling out the

different cultural groups which conform the broad immigrant population. In the first

place, he tells us that immigrants, who have certainly uprooted themselves from the

territory they inhabited, nevertheless do so for quite different reasons. These fall into a

continuum with an extensive area of greyish tonalities which allows us to move

beyond a voluntary/involuntary dichotomy: “immigrants come for a variety of reasons,

ranging from search for asylum to their active recruitment by the state, and each

generates distinct claims and obligations” (Parekh, TRA, 701). Different conditions

for uprooting , or better, migrating, require different relational interactions between

the members of mainstream culture and the newcomers. Dealing with refugee claims,

for example, requires radically different considerations from those which arise with

regards to immigrants who are so skilled that they enter the job market with relative

ease.

Parekh also points out that it is an unquestionable fact that immigrants come from all

over the globe. They share little in common; not language, not religion, not diet, not

dress, not customs, not family relations, not gender relation, not economic abilities.

Immigrants “come from different countries, ranging from ex-colonies to fellow

members of such international organizations as the European community. In each case

they stand in different historical and contractual relations to the receiving country”

(ibid.)(*l)

And not only the ‘why’ and the ‘where’ tend to vary to a considerable degree in the

case of immigrants, but likewise the ‘how long’ and ‘to what degree attachment is felt’.

This variation, I suspect, is determined, to a large extent, on the favorable conditions

found upon arrival, that is to say, on the degree to which immigrants feel respected and

21

respecting, recognized and recognizing, valued and valuable, and finally seen asworth- deserving as well as worth- giving beings. For Parekh:”some immigrants are or see themselves as short-term residents anxiousafter a few years to return to their home countries of origin or to moveelsewhere; some are or see themselves as long-term residents anxious

eventually to return to their countries of origin and in the meantime to remain

and work within, but not to become full members of, the host society; some

others want to remain members of their countries of origin as well as become

full members of the host country; yet others have completely broken with their

countries of origin” (Parekh, TRA, 702)

It is true that by putting forward all these differentiating factors, the issue of

‘immigrants’ might become much more dense and less easy to handle practically, but

at least it is a move which does not shy away from portraying the complexity of the

issue. Not by closing one’s eyes, no matter how hard one tries, will the dense multi-

layered reality of a multicultural society fade away.

This idea is one which Parekh develops more fully in his understanding of British

society. For him contemporary Britain ought to be seen as a multiethnic society. He

purposely rejects designating it as ‘multicultural’, precisely because for him this term

“does not adequately express, and even seems to obscure the kinds of difference that

obtain between different communities in modern Britain” (Parekh, BCCD, 184).

Ethnicity refers to identity and character differentiation, it is in this sense that Britain

can be seen as made up of such differentiating communities, “each with its distinct

culture or ways of thought and life” (184). (*2) Their having landed on British soil is a

fact to which there exists not one unique way of responding. Mainstream British

culture which, for different reasons, allowed these multiethnic appearance on its

shores: “ha(s) to decide how to respond to this fact, bearing in mind their own history,

system of values and aspirations as well as the likely reactions of the ethnic

community” (186). Parekh sees four general possible paths to follow: i) a rejoicing in

multiethnicity (polyethnicity for Kymlicka or cosmopolitanism for Waldron), ii) a

grudging acceptance of its nature, iii) a slow, but effective, undermining of it or finally,

iv) an open declaration of war upon it (186). Regardless of which is adopted, it remains

fundamental to realize that their implementation, just as in the case of Aboriginal

22

demands for fair treatment in the Canadian context, must continuously remind itselfthat, “simply put, the difficulty (here) is that the direction in which we are going isuncharted territory with few signposts” (Cairns, 1).However, this is not to say that the ethnic presence is somehow new to mainstreamculture; a kind of surprise to which they have suddenly awakened. In fact Parekh

shows how British governments have adopted more or less clear political policies with

determined objectives. Parekh traces the history of the two main responses to

immigrant arrival: on the one hand, the assimilationist/ nationalist alternative, and on

the other, the integrationist/liberal one. Both have subsisted side by side; the

preeminence of one over the other has depended primarily on the political climate of

the times (191). The first promotes some form of benign neglect, a policy which, as we

have argued, ends up being neither ‘benign’ nor ‘neglecting’. This interpretative path

perceives the incompatible ways of life found in ethnic communities as a diversity

which can lead eventually to political instability; even to a serious fragmentation of

what it sees as a cohesive and unified Britain with a univocal identity. According to this

view, Britain “could not remain cohesive without fully integrating them (note; the

ethnic groups), and it couldn’t integrate them without dismantling their internal

bonds” (188). Through both a discriminatory immigration policy which for instance

did not allow relatives to join already settled immigrants, and a mainstream education

focusing on English curricula (primarily history and language), this policy sought an

active cultural engineering of ethnic groups. Of course immigrants were not denied

basic human rights, but neither were they given any type of group differentiated rights.

The second model, the liberal/integrationist, valued diversity as actually enriching the

social fabric of contemporary Britain. Nevertheless “it remained vague and was not

clearly distinguished from its assimilarionist rival” (191). It pushed forward both

antidiscriminatory laws and demanded an education curricula based on mutual

understanding and tolerance. It fostered an environment where both parties sought to

interact actively in order to enrich each others’ perspective to the fullest. But it did so

timidly and halfheartedly.

23

Parekh sees various difficulties in each of these approaches. But among the critiquesthat he puts forward, I would like to signal one out which takes up the issues raised inthe first two sections of this essay. It is one which he directs primarily against thestrong assimilationist strand, but which can equally be argued against a weak liberalperspective which does not guarantee strong forms of group differentiated rights to

immigrant minorities. The critique concerns the effects of a strong defense of minority

rights, not simply on first generation immigrants, but on their children and their

children’s children as well.

Immigrant children, as we saw in Section I, did not decide to uproot themselves.

Nevertheless, they stand now, because of their parents’ decision, in an environment

which can not only foster the most extreme uneasiness and disorientation, but also

provide them with the most enriching of possibilities in the conformation of their

directional identity. While their parents had the possibility of growing into different

sorts of, more or less, solid trees –trees which can use their strength to survive in

unknown terrain — immigrant children are like fragile seeds and plants facing a forest

the richness and dangers of which can be compared to a jungle. This can lead to a

sense of loss and disorientation without comparison. In the case of Asian immigrants,

for instance:

“There is ample evidence that (their) children growing up in non-Asian Areas,

or taught in overzealous assimilationist schools, are deeply confused, insecure,

tense, anxious, emotionally hollow, ashamed of their past, including their

parents, lack resistance and self-confidence, and display disturbing disorders in

their thoughts, feelings and behavior” (192)

Kymlicka’s answer to this dilemma, which I take it goes beyond Asian boundaries, lies,

as we saw, in adopting a ‘strenuous effort’ to bring these children closer to mainstream

society. A solution which, we argued, sidestepped the problem itself by seeming to

imply that cutting the roots of one’s culture, and one’s language could be morally

demanded of immigrant children because, if not, they would end up just as

disoriented. Waldron, in turn, presumably would argue that this is the price to be paid

for the constitution of a radically new form of multiple thin identities which together

constitute the cosmopolitan view of the self.

24

Parekh is perturbed, and rightly so, by these troubling effects of migration. And,unlike Kymlicka, he views the source of the problem, not primarily in diversificationitself, but precisely in the inability of mainstream culture, not only to provide adequatemechanisms for the survival of immigrant identities, but also those which canguarantee their active and strong flourishing.

A case in point is that of the issue of the use of immigrant languages in the public

sphere. As we have argued, unless some strong defense of the minority language is

allowed — presumably where numbers warrant– these languages are, if not

doomed to disappear, then, and perhaps worse yet, forcefully sent to search for self-

enclosed islands in which they remain in use, quietly awaiting an opportunity to come

to public light through some kind of political demand. A shocking example given to us

by Parekh is that of the Urdu parents speaking in crowded train. To her parents use of

the shared language used in their homeland, a young immigrant girl reacts with utter

shame:

“When the confused mother asked for an explanation, the girl shot back: ‘Just

as you do not expose your private parts in public, you do not speak in public in

that language’. Though no one had presumably taught her that, she knew that

the public realm belonged to the whites, that only their language and customs

were legitimate within it, and that ethnic identities were to be confined to the

private realm. In a society dominated by one culture, pluralism requires more

than mere tolerance” (193) (*3)

Immigrant children’s healthy upbringing requires more than a mere bipartite strategy

in which their language remains exclusively private-oriented. This strategy may so

severe the identification links with their parents as to even deform the identities of

those children who make up second and third generations.

But it is not Parekh’s aim simply to safeguard minorities, and their languages, from

any interaction with mainstream society. This is neither possible, nor desirable given

that extreme differentiation, the kind which disregards some sort of integration is just

as counterproductive and damaging; “differentiation draws attention to oneself,

intensifies self-consciousness, singles one out as an outsider, and denies one the

instinctive trust and loyalty extended to those perceived to be ‘one of us'” (192) (*4^).

Some type of communicative interaction can alone respond adequately to the

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multiethnicity which marks Britain’s social reality. It is an interaction that finds in adialogical relationship an extremely alluring model for new kinds of coexistence andcohabitation.Some of the central points for such a healthy interaction are given to us by Parekhhimself. His position, which springs from a critique of the previous two approaches, is

founded on five central premises: i) cultural difference is a valuable asset, ii) in

polyethnic societies such diversity is grounded partly in ethnicity which finds

expression in fragile minority communities, iii) these communities are not a threat to

mainstream society, but rather positively strengthen the latter’s economic, social,

cultural and linguistic possibilities, iv) the British have as part of their liberal tradition

an understanding of tolerance within morally permissible limits, and finally, v)

minority ethnic cultures ought to have a say in the public, politically charged, realm.

According to this perspective, minority immigrant communities are not simply to be

preserved in formaldehyde jars. They ought rather to be defended to the extent that

the conditions for their survival and active flourishing can be met by both (or more)

parties involved. The healthy tension found between minority(ies) and majority(ies)

can perhaps be seen to resemble a game which maybe most of us played as young

children; and if not so shared, it is one that can be taught to others (for the lovely thing

about games is that they can be taught to others who are eager to learn and participate

in them). It is that game in which two teams pull real hard on a single rope they share,

in order to bring one of them across a painted or imaginary line. It is true that Majority

cultures can indeed push the shared cord so as to send minority groups flying, in worse

case scenarios, right into the puddle which lies between them. But what both sides

must come to realize is that the possibility of the game itself makes sense only given

the presence of both. Of course one can play against oneself, but that, children can tell

you, is neither as challenging, nor as fun. It is in this sense, I think, that one can say

that “integration requires movement on both sides, otherwise it is an imposition”

(Parekh, 195).

Imposition reflects a desire to deny diversity, it proceeds from a leveling hunger

which fails to critically assess the underlying motives behind its game destroying

26

action. Fortunately as we saw in Section II, the mainstream culture of countries such asCanada and the US is born out of a tradition which knows itself to be born out of a self-critical and dialogical tradition. This is why it can indeed come to see that ethnicminorities:”widen the range of lifestyles upon its citizens, enabling them to borrow from

others what attracts them and to enrich their way of life. They also bring

different traditions into a mutually beneficial dialogue and stimulate new ideals

and experiments” (195) (*4)

Borrowing and lending are the social expressions of a hard won trust and

understanding.

This mutual activity, this rope game, is the one which Parekh defends by expliciting

six primary normative objectives to have in mind in determining the healthy

relationships between minorities and majorities. First, cultural diversity ought to be

given strong public status so that diversity and difference come to be viewed, not as a

limiting factor by both parties — half grudgingly accepted by the majority,

halfheartedly rejected by immigrant children– but rather as a deep challenge for

both. One in which both (or more) parties are called upon to foster the cohabitation of

strong identities living side by side and committed to respect their traditions by way of

increasing bilingual education, multicultural curricula, acceptance of dress codes,

religious beliefs, and minority holidays, among many others. Second, on the minority

culture’s side of the rope, it is expected that they accept the obligations of British

citizenship through national loyalty and sensitivity to British political values;

principally through an active respect for the liberal democratic practices and

institutions and an understanding of the history and language which provide the

foundations of Britain’s shared cultural vocabulary. Nevertheless, and this is the third

point, minority cultures must be allowed to develop in their own direction and at a

speed not to be imposed from outside. These minority groups, even if they come from

a tradition that does not know of such a critical stand as that which characterizes the

countries they enter upon, have among them: “intelligent and wise men and women,

most of them heirs to old civilizations, and familiar with the art of making changes.

They love their children, are deeply concerned about their well-being, and know

27

better than anyone else that their future is tied up with British society, which theymust therefore understand and to which they must adapt, however painful the process”(199). Fourth, it is necessary to understand, and here Parekh coincides with Kymlicka,that individuals comprising communities flourish or decay with the downfall oruprising, literally up-rising, of these communities. This is why the proper conditions

for communal recognition and identification must be set in place; from this conditions

perhaps will follow more smoothly, higher individual levels of self-confidence and self-

esteem. The fifth consideration involves the need for the recognition of the distinct

character of ethnic communities by the mainstream legal system. This, not through the

implementation of a plurality of incommensurable legal systems (*5), but rather

through a more flexible, imaginative, and not because of this less secure, interpretation

of British laws: “the courts confront one with the other and decide how best the

general intentions of the law can be realized and justice done as well as seen to be

done in a specific and unique case” (202) () Vor instance, while cases of female

circumcision ought to be rejected, equal treatment of genders ought to be fostered

(*7).

Finally, and here Waldron and Parekh come close to each other, but through

radically different routes, the idea of identity must be reconsidered so as to

acknowledge the diversity upon which it is now to be construed. Identity is “not an

abstract but a concrete and internally differentiated universal. It is not something all

Britons (note: or Canadians) possess; but rather a milieu, a self renewing process in

which they participate’. Identity is a dynamic concept which, regardless of our

intentions, seems to have a life of its own. Its fluidity continually escapes us no matter

how hard we fight to reach its alleged security. Multiculturalism implies

interdependence; it requires an open stance capable, both of listening to perspectives

which at first may appear radically alien, and of articulating self-critically one’s own

goods and valuations. To speak of a British identity makes sense only through the

recognition of this mutual belonging:

“In other words none of us is fully British. We are constantly trying to become

one, each on his own way and at his own pace. Only he is fully British who can

honestly say that no British citizen, black or white, Christian or Hindu, is a

28

cultural stranger to him. Those generally regarded as quintessentially British arein some way the least British” (203)Identity is a never-ending process in which becoming supersedes being. Polyglots aresuch becoming loving creatures. We positively admire polyglots, among other things,for their incredible capacity to perceive and produce sounds of differing tonalities, for

having the mnemic capacity required to recognize distinct words, for their graceful and

almost effortless comprehension of grammar and functional structures pertaining to

diverse linguistic groups. But polyglots are truly gifted humans; immigrants and their

hosts can simply try to learn from the former the mutual advantages to be won from

aiming at some type of expressive and respectful bilingualism. (*8) Having won this

linguistic advantage, perhaps then can follow different types of trilingualism, and who

knows, maybe even an enriching polyglorism. (*9)

FOOTNOTESINTRODUCTION1. In this passage Camus refers not only to the loss of his beloved Algiers, but likewise to a loss whichhe sees permeates the whole of the Western tradition. For him it is one which, in modernity, ischaracterized by the birth of nihilism and the absurd. Nihilism is itself understood as a leveling of all

values which, for example for Nietzsche, is seen as a detrimental aspect of the democratic tradition and

its perspective of a ‘thin view of the good’ (a perspective taken up in section II of this essay). The

liberal tradition is not without critiques itself, starting from Plato and Aristotle..

2. Having lived most of my life in Colombia, born from a Quebecois mother and a Colombian father,

having had access to the English language from early on, having lived for four years in Montreal some

years ago, and for a few months here in Toronto, I still am at a loss sometimes as to how to respond to

some elements in Canadian culture. Although there are too many examples, I would like to signal out

two in particular. The first occurred some days prior to the Quebec referendum. I asked a fellow Master

student whom I met in the Department what she thought about the issue. She gave me her opinion

and I proceeded to ask her who she was going to vote for. She stared at me rather oddly and asked

“Isn’t that kind of personal?”. Then, somehow, it clicked that such a question, though perhaps common

in a Colombian setting, is radically personal here. It took us some seconds to understand why she

thought it was such a strange question and why I thought it to be rather normal. Although embarrasing,

we seemed to realize the context within which the question was made. The second occurred in 1986

when I, for the first time was coming to a country I was a citizen of, but which I had never before

visited. Upon arriving to the airport and showing my passport where it says I was born in Colombia, I

was ‘jokingly’ asked by the immigration official; how many kilos do you have with you? He seemed to

take it for granted that it was obvious what the kilos WCTC of (Colombians abroad are dealt with with

extreme unfairness). Many examples which occur in day to day interactions still occur to me. I take it

that it is something that most immigrants share to even greater degrees. (This is likewise true for

people who migrate, from the countryside, into the ever growing cities in the Latin American setting.)

3. Perhaps a more balanced consideration can be reached with the difficult empirical study that will

follow this essay, and which will focus on the issue of immigration, either in Quebec, or a Province such

as Ontario. I will, in this essay, disregard all questions dealing with the economic requirements

necessary to foster a healthy relation between minorities and mainstream culture in a period where

cutbacks are the order of the day. But I will likewise remind myself that practice, without some kind of

theoretical framework, can be dangerously blind.

SECTION I

1. For Kymlicka both forms of multiculturalism, the multination, and the polyethnic, are not as distinct

as the separate categories might portray (19); furthermore for him Canada is among the few countries

which shares both (16).

2. For Kymlicka internal restrictions are to be regarded by liberals with very suspicious eyes.

Nevertheless, when he discusses the Quebec case he seems to shy away from considering Bill 101 .Is

not this Bill an internal restriction. Does Kymlicka see it as a suspicious one? How does it presence

affect incoming immigrants to the province of Quebec? Can they claim such internal restrictions using

the same arguments? Up to what extent?

3. Kymlicka is extremely sensitive to a multitude of empirical cases which he acknowledges do not fit

easily in his complex conceptual framework. Some of these are African Americans, refugees and

Hutcerites in Canada (19).

4. The other reasons for this minority rights skepticism lie in: i) the failure of minority treatises such as

that of Poland and Germany prior to the beginning of the Second World W^ar, and ii) racial

desegregation in the LS which seeks a color-blind society.

30

5. The continual use of the adjective and noun American in the part of Kymlicka is radicallydiscriminating to the peoples who live in the American CONTINENT; a continent comprised ofSouth, Central and North America. This use of the term cannot be defended either morally norgeographically. It is as if one, unintentionally, argued that all Canadians are gringos. This might seemlike a nominal problem, but if the arguments in Section I are correct, then it is certaiily more than this.

This use ought to be changed; but, of course, watching the news and reading the newspaper, it seems

quite illusory to try do so.

6. For Kymlicka there is not that much of difference between the two immigration models usually

discussed, the Canadian ‘mosaic’, and the US ‘melting pot’. Perhaps the first is not so mosaic-like, the

latter, not so melting. (10-11)

7. Having taught English as a Foreign Language for several years, I have seen the difficulty, and time

consuming task, which is to learn a language such as English (that is in all the four linguistic skills:

reading, writing, speaking and listening). I know that the ESL situation changes, and soon will begin to

prepare myself to look at the differences.

8. On the identity of the Quebecois, Kymlicka moves from referring to them sometimes as Quebecers,

sometimes as French Canadians. But precisely the Quebecois see themselves, before Canadians, as

members of the French speaking Province of Quebec. For Taylor this is furthermore linked to a

perspective which holds that the Quebecois hold a view of the good which stands in tension, to some

extent, with the ‘thin’ view of the good upheld by Kymlicka and Waldron. That Taylor dedicates pages

to the issue of language in political thought is therefore no surprise.

9. This deep diversity follows from an acceptance of a first level agreement on the basic principles of

liberalism and human rights.

SECTION II

1. A tradition grounded on the Kantian imperative, Sapere Aude! (Learn to be wise) As Kant asks of us:

“Have courage to use your own understanding” (Kant, What is Enlightenment”). This is a tradition in

which autonomy is set against all forms of heteronomy.

2. This is a position which is radically criticized, I believe, by Aristotelian ethical thought. The amazing

clement in Waldron’s argument is that he can still use Aristotle to foster his argument of global

interdependence, while clinging to a thin theory of the good. The tension can also be seen, I think, in

the Taylorite differentiation between what he calls hypergoods, and the goods which follow from the

modern affirmation of ordinary life (Sources of the Self.)

3. Here Waldron follows Habermas’ modernist project: “the arrival of world citizenship is no longer

a phantom though we are still far from achieving it. State citizenship and world citizenship form a

continuum w-which already shows itself (at least) in outline form” (Habermas, 7).

SECTION III

1. Recently a friend of mine from Colombia, who was not as lucky as I to have been born from a

Canadian, and therefore by law having the right to Canadian Citizenship (something envied by many in

countries such as Colombia), told me that during his swearing allegiance to the Queen and Canada,

there were, in the same place, about 120 people coming, and this is astonishing, from 29 different

countries !!!!!

2. Parekh clearly differentiates between the processes followed by Asian immigrants and their economic

claims, Afro-Caribbean and their political claims, and Muslims and their religious claims. Of course all

three claims are interrelated, but each immigrant group has tended to emphasize some over the others.

3. One of my Canadian nieces, the one old enough to speak, does not like to speak any Spanish,

although she can understand just about anything one tells her. In contrast, one of my Colombian

nephews speaks English as much as he can. Precisely it is in these everyday realities that, I think, one

can sec the difference between having a language extremely valued for different purposes as English is

in Latin America, and the parallel relevance of Spanish in Canada. Of course the case of Hispanics in

the US is radically different. Most of my students in Colombia would, if they could travel to learn

English, shy away from cities such as Miami for they argued, “one does not need English there”.

31

4. It is disturbing sometimes to hear stories of immigrants whose success within mainstream societyleads them away from the culture within which they were brought up. But this is a very personal andbiased opinion.5. The difference between immigrants and Aboriginal Indians is here illuminating. The latter do have,for different reasons, their own legal systems; but these seek not to deny basic human rights.

6. Aristotle in his Ethics points this out in quite another historical context: “‘it is he mark of the trained

mind never to expect more precision in the treatment of any subject than the nature of the subject

permits” (1094b28-30)

7. In the case of legal claims drawing the line is precisely the problem. While Carens argues that cases

of gender equality must hold universally, as well as the female circumcision of children (for adults it is

different) (CJ,CD,PC), there are other more problematic cases to which Parekh points. One of these is

the legalization of marijuana by Rastafarians of which he says: “The Rastafarians cannot be easily

isolated from the rest of the community, there is always the risk of the large-scale traffic of drugs, and

the likely health risk to them that cannot be ignored by the state” (201). Here, I believe, Parekh seems

to be sidestepping the issue. And it is one which of course permeates the whole modern debate on drug

control.

8. I write bilingualism because I take it that the primary relationship to consider in multicultural society

is between specific immigrant groups and the English speaking society. Once this dialogue takes place,

I believe, there can follow the more complex possibility of carrying over these intercommunicative links

to the relationship between immigrant groups themselves. But here I may perhaps be wrong.

9. What one certainly does not want, I have argued, is some kind of Esperanto which all human beings

share, but without having any ties to real practical and theoretically complex and differentiated

contexts. (The Bible story of the Tower of Babel can perhaps be here illuminating)

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BIBLIOGRAPHY (Readings for the course)Cairns, Alan, “Aboriginal Canadians, Citizenship and the Constitution”.Carens, Joseph, “Realistic and Idealistic Approaches to the Ethics of Migration”.— “Complex Justice, Cultural Difference and Political Community”.— “Canadian Citizenship and Aboriginal Self-Government”.

— “Democracy and Respect for Difference: The Case of Fiji”.

________ “Liberalism and Culture”.

Habermas, Jurgen, “Citizenship and National Identity: Some Reflections on the

Future of Europe”.

Kymlicka, Will, Multicultural Citizenships

Parekh, Bhikhu, “British Citizenship and Cultural Difference”.

— “The Rushdie Affair: Research Agenda for Political Philosophy”.

Taylor, Charles, “Shared and Divergent Values”.

Waldron, Jeremy, “Minority Cultures and the Cosmopolitan Alternative”.

Walzer, Michael, “Three Paths in Moral Philosophy”.

Young, Iris, “Polity and Group Difference: A Critique of the Ideal of Universal

Citizenship”.

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