Written by Martha Webber, English and Writing Studies
On faculty this summer at the School of Criticism and Theory, Elizabeth Povinelli, professor of anthropology and gender studies at Columbia University, workshopped her current research through a series of events over last week. Her current project, an articulation of the "Economies of Abandonment,"* continues her longstanding interest in theorizing late liberalism and how recognition happens (or fails to) within it, but she presents a new concern with how the present is both figured and felt by publics and individuals, specifically those "bracketed" from consideration. In the smallest and simplest of nutshells: Povinelli argues that a fundamental division in liberal society produces an "economy of abandonment" in which the bracketed are left in a durative present where they are assured of both an imminent future where past injustices will be righted and a future where present unjust measures of social control will continue indefinitely. One of the questions she is striving to think through, then, is what a political language of the "now" could do and if it will counter a tradition of public policy justified through the tenses of the past and future.
I was happy to hear an earlier form of this research during her keynote lecture for Decolonizations and, if anything, over the past couple of months, Povinelli's articulation of her concern with "now" actions and "present" arguments has only seemed to intensify. But there is something to this temporal concern that strikes me, in large part because of my field, Writing Studies, which foregrounds questions of process and political participation to productively challenge our understanding of writers and their compositions as they unfold over time and space. At its base, the process of academic publication, at least in the humanities, neither easily accommodates urgency or encourages a "now" that isn't justified through these same tenses of past and future. And so, as Povinelli's drafts, talks, and various articles eventually lead to a monograph that will intervene somewhere in the imminent future, I know the monograph (as a medium) structurally can't communicate the kind of urgency or concern with the present I have seen manifest in Povinelli, amongst colleagues, and friends in various positions in higher education.
I return to a question that continues to raise anxieties for those who choose to situate themselves within the Academy. How does contemporary theory relate to present practice broadly and for an academic? What is it that we are doing when we disappear for hours at a time to write carefully situated critiques or when we experience a flash of anxiety that makes us plan to add Agamben to our interminable "To Read" list because everyone in the room seems to be talking about him.
This theory/practice conflict is by no means a new question - in fact, Annelise Riles, Professor of Law and Anthropology here at Cornell who introduced the talk last week, recounted that she had heard Povinelli over the years doubt her work as something capable of producing action. This sentiment reflects upon Povinelli's own decades-long fieldwork with Aborigine groups and I suspect the relationship between theory and practice has received special consideration in anthropology, sociology, and writing studies because fieldwork creates very urgent, tangible, and even amusing situations where you suddenly realize how very little of your theoretical training influences your actions. It is not merely a question for those working from the field, however, to consider. Povinelli's temporal framework provokes us to consider the tenses of our professional activities and theoretical engagements and the possibility of present actions.
* Unpublished paper; quoted with permission from author.
On faculty this summer at the School of Criticism and Theory, Elizabeth Povinelli, professor of anthropology and gender studies at Columbia University, workshopped her current research through a series of events over last week. Her current project, an articulation of the "Economies of Abandonment,"* continues her longstanding interest in theorizing late liberalism and how recognition happens (or fails to) within it, but she presents a new concern with how the present is both figured and felt by publics and individuals, specifically those "bracketed" from consideration. In the smallest and simplest of nutshells: Povinelli argues that a fundamental division in liberal society produces an "economy of abandonment" in which the bracketed are left in a durative present where they are assured of both an imminent future where past injustices will be righted and a future where present unjust measures of social control will continue indefinitely. One of the questions she is striving to think through, then, is what a political language of the "now" could do and if it will counter a tradition of public policy justified through the tenses of the past and future.
I was happy to hear an earlier form of this research during her keynote lecture for Decolonizations and, if anything, over the past couple of months, Povinelli's articulation of her concern with "now" actions and "present" arguments has only seemed to intensify. But there is something to this temporal concern that strikes me, in large part because of my field, Writing Studies, which foregrounds questions of process and political participation to productively challenge our understanding of writers and their compositions as they unfold over time and space. At its base, the process of academic publication, at least in the humanities, neither easily accommodates urgency or encourages a "now" that isn't justified through these same tenses of past and future. And so, as Povinelli's drafts, talks, and various articles eventually lead to a monograph that will intervene somewhere in the imminent future, I know the monograph (as a medium) structurally can't communicate the kind of urgency or concern with the present I have seen manifest in Povinelli, amongst colleagues, and friends in various positions in higher education.
I return to a question that continues to raise anxieties for those who choose to situate themselves within the Academy. How does contemporary theory relate to present practice broadly and for an academic? What is it that we are doing when we disappear for hours at a time to write carefully situated critiques or when we experience a flash of anxiety that makes us plan to add Agamben to our interminable "To Read" list because everyone in the room seems to be talking about him.
This theory/practice conflict is by no means a new question - in fact, Annelise Riles, Professor of Law and Anthropology here at Cornell who introduced the talk last week, recounted that she had heard Povinelli over the years doubt her work as something capable of producing action. This sentiment reflects upon Povinelli's own decades-long fieldwork with Aborigine groups and I suspect the relationship between theory and practice has received special consideration in anthropology, sociology, and writing studies because fieldwork creates very urgent, tangible, and even amusing situations where you suddenly realize how very little of your theoretical training influences your actions. It is not merely a question for those working from the field, however, to consider. Povinelli's temporal framework provokes us to consider the tenses of our professional activities and theoretical engagements and the possibility of present actions.
* Unpublished paper; quoted with permission from author.