Today in Brooklyn I saw trees with sweaters on them.
Someone literally knitted sweaters for the trees.
How about you get your head out of your ass you gentrifiers??? Lmao!
The trees aren’t cold they don’t need your help. You know who is cold? The dozens of homeless New Yorkers who every week ask us for blankets jackets hats gloves and socks. If you have time to knit giant sweaters for trees maybe you should use your free time to help other humans. Ugh.
(Source: 3alamba2es, via claeswar)
Prévert’s world is founded in marvellous encounters, unobtrusive looks which overturn the face of the world, liberating rage, avenging humour, cries of defiance, finding love, love without restriction, in the streets, in parks, greenhouses and hovels.
as quoted in Michael Richardson’s Surrealism and Cinema
(Let us be trivial, let us be intimate)
I am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses.
In any case, New Imperialism is upon us. It’s a remodeled, streamlined version of what we once knew. For the first time in history, a single empire with an arsenal of weapons that could obliterate the world in an afternoon has complete, unipolar, economic and military hegemony. It uses different weapon to break open different markers.
Poor countries that are geopolitically of strategics value to the empire, or have a ‘market’ of any size, or infrastructure that can be privatized, or, god forbid, natural resources of value — oil, gold, diamonds, cobalt, coal — must do as they’re told or become military targets. Those with the greatest reserves of natural wealth are most at risk. Unless they surrender their resources willingly to the corporate machine, civil unrest will be fomented, or war will be waged. In this new age of empire, when nothing is as it appears to be, executives of concerned companies are allowed to influence foreign policy decisions.
This brutal blueprint has been used over and over again, across Latin American, Africa, Central and Southeast Asia. It has cost millions of lives. It goes without saying that every war empire wages becomes a just war. This, in large part, is due to the role of the corporate media. It’s important to understand that the corporate media doesn’t just support the neo-liberal project. it IS the neo-liberal project. This is not a moral position it has chosen to take, it’s structural. It’s intrinsic to the economics of how the mass media works.
لما رأيت الجهل في الناس فاشياً…تجاهلت حتي ظن أني جاهل
And when I saw ignorance amongst people widespread…I called out that ignorance, until it was thought that I was ignorant
Anonymous asked: Where did naila go?
The individualist ideology of freedom and happiness assumes that all associations must be volitional for there to be just or happy relationships, which is a model of intersubjective relations based on public associations in voluntary organizations. Families are not like that; in fact, neither are communities. We are born into relations with specific others; we give birth to others and thus bear a necessary emotional relationship to them. These are never volitional—we may choose to become a parent but we cannot in general choose to whom we will become a parent. Traditional liberal individualist notions of human relationships have been unable effectively to evaluate and analyze such non-volitional relationships; thus they have tended to ignore them, following the Hegelian dogma that family relations belong to the sphere of nature, not the sphere of culture. That kind of claim is definitely not in the interest of women, since it exempts familial relationships from political critique and suggestions for change, but feminist ethicists also have argued persuasively that the kinds of non-volitional relationships born out of families and communities can enhance autonomy, and can also be subject to political and moral judgement.
Linda Martín Alcoff, Reclaiming Truth Talk
When we speak of collective political struggles and oppositional social movements, we can see how the political is continuous with the epistemological. In fact one may interpret Marx’s famous eleventh thesis on Feuerbach as making just such an epistemological argument. It does not urge us to give up the job of interpreting the world (in the interest of changing it) but instead points out how the possibility of interpreting our world accurately depends fundamentally on our coming to know what it would take
to change it, on our identifying the central relations of power and privilege that sustain it and make the world what it is. And we learn to identify these relations through our various attempts to change the world, not merely to contemplate it as it is.
Satya Mohanty, The Epistemic Status of Cultural Identity
No one denies that knowledge and meaning exist, but when knowledge is revealed as underdetermined by epistemic considerations and when meaning is acknowledged as inherently plural, it becomes clear that something else must fill the gap to produce meaning and truth. Without a determinate epistemic or metaphysical basis, the formative grounds of truth and meaning’s elucidation are revealed to involve power. It may turn out that Derrida’s greatest contribution to philosophy will have been to make a space for political analysis within and even at the heart of the traditional philosophical concerns about knowledge and meaning. However, this strategy of the opening or the pointing gesture, while sometimes effective in making a space for
politics, is not wholly satisfying as
a politics. Second, it is sometimes claimed that postmodernism is the privileged site of (good) politics: that outside of a postmodern terrain, politics necessarily becomes reductive, essentialist, totalitarian, moralistic, and authoritarian, and that only postmodernism incorporates the play of difference, without hierarchy, from which to make a revolution where we all can dance. This is the argument with which I am most uncomfortable. It strikes me as a theory war in the old style, in its claim to general, a priori theoretical correctness and in its attempt to colonize the entire discursive field of the political. And, of course, there is a striking performative contradiction in a move that both criticizes “theoretical centralism” and simultaneously tries to enact it. Unless postmodernism can claim exemption from what it reveals about other discourses, it has to allow for large areas of the discursive terrain where it simply is neither needed nor wanted.
Perhaps everybody has a garden of Eden, I don’t know; but they have scarcely seen their garden before they see the flaming sword. Then, perhaps, life only offers the choice of remembering the garden or forgetting it. Either, or: it takes strength to remember, it takes another kind of strength to forget, it takes a hero to do both. People who remember court madness through pain, the pain of the perpetually recurring death of their innocence; people who forget court another kind of madness, the madness of the denial of pain and the hatred of innocence; and the world is mostly divided between madmen who remember and madmen who forget. Heroes are rare.
The difference between modern and postmodernist accounts is simply in their degree of optimism about the extent to which the individual can negate the given and resist an external Power. Postmodernists are much less sanguine about the efficacy of individual agency. But in both modern and postmodern accounts it is striking that negation, resistance, and destabilization of what comes to the individual from the social—whether that social is discourse, disciplinary mechanisms, the Law of the Father, or cultural traditions—are normatively privileged; this makes sense only given the prior assumption that what comes to the individual from the social is necessarily constraining and pernicious or that the individual must be the final arbiter of all value. But why make this assumption? Why assume that giving any prerogative to the parent/community/society or the discourse/episteme/socius is in every case and necessarily psychically pernicious and enabling only at the cost of a more profound subordination? Why assume that if I am culturally, ethnically, sexually identifiable that this is a process akin to Kafka’s nightmarish torture machines in the penal colony? […] [W]hy is it assumed so easily that accepting social categories of identity is a form of subordination? My diagnosis points to a fear of the power of the Other as providing the missing premise to make this argument compelling. There is much reason to think that this fear itself is situated, not existentially primordial. The colonizers and the dominant need to deflect the reflection they see in their victims’ eyes, and the victims themselves need to be able to transcend the oppressors’ representations. Thankfully, however, these do not exhaust the possible relationships that can exist between self and Other. Nor do they exhaust the genealogies of social categories of identity.
Linda Martín Alcoff, Who’s Afraid of Identity Politics? (via matryushka