Leibniz, Raised by Wolves

In my last post, I began to theorize a model of the object as “a Leibnizism of forces.” Leibniz, as we know, uses the language of dominance to describe the hierarchy of monads responsible for the organization of the assemblage-object. However, as I headed to bed last night, I remembered the following video, in which Dr. David L. Mech discusses the “alpha wolf” designation.

To summarize, ethologists view the term “alpha wolf” as misguided, applying only to artificial packs. Organization and leadership are not the result of a violent struggle culminating in the dominance of one animal over the many others. Rather, it is achieved through the production of life. Though there may be some struggle for the right to breed with a particular wolf, it is ultimately the fact of procreation—and the resulting generation of a new family group—that places a wolf “at the head of the pack”.

This model of organization based on sourcehood, rather than dominance, is how I would like to envision my Leibnizism of forces. (After all, if Bergson has taught me anything, it’s that life is creative, not domineering.) A force, or set of forces, reproduce(s) (a)sexually. The resulting pack of forces gathers, taking shape and direction from its head—which is, for the object, the logos (not a telos).

(An aside: Crudely put, the distinction between logos and telos, for me, is somewhat analogous to that between a compass and a geographical destination. I don’t think teleology exists in nature apart from virtual teleologies created by humans, but I do think nature is fraught with logoi. More on this some other time, I suppose.)

More On My Lack of Substance

MG seems troubled by my last post, asking whether I am denying that there is a “‘thing’ which has physical powers and actions.” Controversy over the meaning of “hypostasis” aside, I think there is a further misunderstanding that was perhaps engendered by my lack of detail.

Of most portent to me in this discussion, then, is what we mean by “thing” or “object” (don’t get mad, Martin). The object, in my vocabulary, is somewhat similar to Leibniz, for whom any number of monads are unified by a dominant monad. Thus, chairs, dry erase markers, and human animals. My position, however, rejects monads (since they are substances, after all) in favor of a Leibnizism of forces. Following Deleuze in Nietzsche & Philosophy, I take it that “the object itself is force, expression of a force.” (1.3, pg. 6) This force that possesses is not the sole force at play in the formation of the object, Deleuze goes on to say, but it is the dominant one. The thing is this constellation of actualized “powers” (more on what that might mean to me some other time), not some hypostasis/particular-as-substance.

Then again, I might just be tired.

Dualism or . . . ?

I’ve wasted a half hour trying to rewrite a rather short notebook entry when I would probably be much better served by just posting it. The subject has been plaguing me for some time—mostly because of my intense dislike for it, and that despite (or is it in spite of?) the fact that several of my friends are staunch supporters of dualism. Given this, the entry below can only be understood as assuming the Eastern Orthodox ontological concept known as the Essence-Energies distinction. I may or may not expand on this later. With no further ado:

Why dualism? Why substance at all? Essence, in itself, has no existence—only by energizing, only as act does any thing exist. And who would believe that there are only two kinds of act? Clearly, there are many more. I therefore embrace existential pluralism—the plurality of becomings—undergirded by ontological monism. The being of becoming is univocal, while the mode of existence accounts for the phenomenal differences between body, mind, and whatever else. Substance (that needless bogeyman) dualism is thus an unnecessary—not to mention unsupported—speculation.

Too Much Information

Playing the part of vivisectionist is natural, I suppose, up to a certain point in a student’s life. The excuse is readymade and placed in our hands—force-fed to us, really—”You are yet too ignorant to bring aught to birth! Sit at your master’s feet, learn his doctrines, and then perhaps you will be fertile.” We are instructed to slice into yet another amphibious specimen, to quell our ignorance with the alchemical juices of its innards. Gathering them, we will one day enact the Magnum Opus. But until then, ignorance, whether real or imagined, paralyzes the faculties, rendering stillborn those fruits we have managed to bring forth by paroxysmal labors. Exhausted, we lapse into sloth.
It’s rather obvious that I’ve fallen to this disease. Four posts over the course of nearly three months—this post being the fifth? Pathetic. Too much goes on in my head to excuse this authorial stinginess. At the very least, I should be able to provide some comments on the veritable deluge of books and articles I swallow whole on a regular basis. What is most needful of all, however, is to enter conversation. I have hidden behind the curtain, partaking voyeuristically of the intellectual intercourse when I ought to add my seed. Today, I cast off my robe, this fear of ignorance. Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

Trisagion for the Dead: A Hauntology

I’m gearing up to write my piece on hauntology and liturgy (finally), so I thought I would repost this poem I wrote some months ago to help set the mood. Enjoy.

Trisagion for the Dead: A Hauntology

Three times it must be done. In all things, three times.
Even as you rest here, dead to life, you
have already died to that space before life,
and soon enough you will die to this death.
Three times—May your memory be eternal!

Your ghost, given up from the body, appears,
fades away, and animates memory—
or is thereby animated, ignorant
of the place of time, and so always present.
Emptied from yourself, your specter is refilled
by those looking forward and those looking back.

To dust we will return your fading ghost
when we, too, have escaped our failing bonds.
You will remember and return us, then,
recovered in the shroud of your mindfulness—
reborn in forms of eternal memory.