ain soph: embracing the fool, or, more on sadism and academic publishing

Music: VNV Nation: Matter + Form Although some Jungians praise the Tarot sun card as a token of the dialectical counterpart to the "dark shadow," it can also represent arrogance and self-righteousness (hence Lucifer, the "light-bearer"). Sometimes wrestling our (dark) shadow (Jung did not proffer a "bright" shadow) is simply the better way to go, if only because it is the route of the humble and less likely to result in hurting others. My latest call, of course, is that academics should embrace the figure of the fool. In tarot symbology, the fool is not an idiot or stupid, but simply blind to things in plain view. In Wagner's opera Parsifal, the fool eventually gets and protects the grail. The fool, in other words, is not a bad figure to make into a patron saint.

Yesterday I received another rejection for a manuscript I've been working on for about three years now. Having submitted more articles for review than I can count, I must admit sometimes rejection is relatively easy, especially when the reviewer is curt and rejects my ideas out of hand. The rejections that continue to hurt are those that take the time to explain why my essay should be rejected in detail, but not to "help" me or teach me something. Rather, the rejections that hurt are those that say, in essence, you're an idiot, and here are four single-spaced pages why this is true. The editor, also a friend of mine, was very kind and humane: one reviewer recommended that the journal pursue the article, while the other, reject. Divided reviews are my lot, so this is nothing new. But I think the editor was concerned about the tone of the rejection, so she apparently she contacted a third scholar, who also urged rejection. The editor, bless her, offered a revise and resubmit with significant revisions, but I decided to send it elsewhere because I think the damn thing is good enough already, and I don't want to take advantage our friendship (I suspect she would have rejected someone she did not know with the same set of reviews).

Nevertheless, the "you're an idiot and here's why" kind of rejections are the true source of "writing block" for young scholars; no one likes to feel stupid, or being told that they are stupid. This judgment is also why being an academic is a tough row for the lot of us: there are a handful of really brilliant scholars who publish brilliant things, often at a rather brilliant pace. The rest of us consist of the smart kids in high school who really don't fit in any other place. I mean, the army certainly has no place for us, and we'd drive factory workers crazy with our latest idea about Tom Cruise and Scientology. We work hard, we make pretty decent contributions to our field, but we're not the sort to generate the next Grand Unified Theory or find the cure for cancer. Us smart hard worker types sometimes wish we were "brilliant," but a good number of us (like me) are content to work hard, produce interesting or creative work, and hope an undergraduate here and again changes her mind about "reality" as a result of something we wrote or taught here and again.

And we're really good lovers.

Anyhoo, I thought I'd share the rejection letter that "hurts," offering translations along the way. It's not terribly far off from what I'm used to receiving, actually. The manuscript in question is here in a pdf format.

Review of Manuscript #05-007 “Hystericizing Huey”

Although I think this piece is very well-written and engages with some interesting literature, I find the execution lacking and the specifics of the project to be misguided in a way that wouldn't benefit from even substantive revision.

Translation: This essay is so bad that the author can do absolutely nothing to make it better; it's so bad its doomed forever.

I want to divide up my comments into two camps, one in which I lack sympathy to the psychoanalytic tradition, and one in which I am [in sympathy with the tradition]. I don't know the readership of [journal name] just yet, but I suspect that more of its readers will fall into the first camp, so I'll start there. I suspect the author believes the same, since he/she spends a large amount of time in theoretical exposition.

Translation: This essay is so incompetent as a piece of scholarship that I can critique it from multiple perspectives. Even though I am sympathetic to the author's project, I think it would be fun to pretend I'm not and blow holes through the essay from a perspective that is not my own, so that the author can see it's really shitty work no matter who you consult. Then, because I'm smarter than the author, I'll demonstrate how stupid the author is by addressing him and the essay on their own terms

As far as this camp goes, here are four objections/questions: First, I do not think that the piece offers a significant or substantive justification for using psychoanalysis as a critical tool. In the lengthy explanation given regarding the dynamic between obsession and hysteresis, there is nothing that offers much insight into the particulars of the situation or context at hand. In effect, the claims are far too universal, something somewhat required of psychoanalytic concepts.

Translation: Psychoanalysis is bad because its claims are universalist. It can never address the specificity of a given rhetorical situation or encounter in its proper, historical context

Given that everyone shares obsessive and hysterical tendencies, and given that all discourse is marked by a certain sense of fort-da, why isn't everyone a de facto demagogue? To argue, like the author does, that current efforts to understand charisma or even eloquence “lack a theory of desire” may be true, but it does not follow that a theory of desire is a valuable contribution.

Translation: As you present it, your theory suggests we have a little bit of demagoguery in all of us. So what? While it may be true accounts of charisma do not take "desire" into account, this does not mean an account of desire is desirable, either. Note, dear reader, this is a non-sequitor. Whenever there is a non-sequitor in support of a rejection, we know that something "brilliant" is on the horizon. Hence:

Given the universal or potentially universal nature of this theory of desire, and given the obvious fact that not everyone has demagogue status or that certain “it” factor of charisma, the critic must eventually move from the universal theory of desire expounded within this essay to the specific discourses of the demagogue, where the status of demagogue is determined by historical assignation rather than by psychic structure. The problem is though, once you've moved from the general to the particular, it seems obvious that the particular is a necessary and necessarily rhetorical component, and that the psychical concern is largely superfluous.

Translation: Because the essay draws on a theory that advances in universalist claims, it cannot address particulars in that theory. Insofar as demagogues are special in some way, you must analyze particularities (historical especially) to explain the demagogue. But if you do that, then there's no need for universal claims, really. Hence, psychoanalysis is incapable of providing an account of demagoguery, and the project is doomed. The asserted premise here is that rhetoric implicates historical particularity, and vice-versa. I don't agree with that premise, of course.

To follow the logic of the piece, by contrast, means understanding charisma and eloquence as non-rhetorical concepts and practices, a practice that hardly seems compelling for an audience of communication scholars. In other words, here is a theory of charisma that removes entirely the importance of rhetoric. As much as I might appreciate the author's investment in the philosophical precepts of psychoanalysis, I don't believe that it warrants publication in an NCA journal. [Look at 36, for example, wherein the symbolic is conflated with rhetoric, a revealing lack of differentiation.]

Translation: The National Communication Association, as an entity, only supports scholarship that is rhetorical in scope, and since psychoanalysis is plainly not rhetorical, this essay should be rejected. . Of course, at this point the reviewer is having way too much fun playing the devil's advocate . . . and at my expense. Why is it necessary to reject an article on premises even you do not believe in? Apparently because it feels good to do this to someone who does not know your name. The sadism continues:

Second, the substantial but not obviously relevant take on desire and gender, adds little to the piece other than problems for those not already inclined to believe Lacan. One fairly obvious problem that isn't addressed in the piece, for example, comes once more with the issue of context. The author seems content, a la Lacan, to say that cultural assignations of gender are supposed to be psychical, yet the neuroses that define those assignations clearly presuppose culturally assigned values for women – the idea that woman are more naturally hysteric, for example. It makes just as much sense, given the lack of empirical data in this section, to believe that hysteresis is a socialized phenomenon, in that girls are often “taught” to be self-effacing.

Translation: The article tempts essentialism. This is patently unfair, as many lines are devoted to the cultural construction of not only gender, but sex. I never say anything whatsoever about "women being naturally hysteric." Read closer (righteously neurotic asshole). The spanking continues:

Third, and I know this claim might irk critics invested in Lacan, but it seems to me as if the piece ignores certain specificities of the media environment in which demagoguery emerges. Most notably, with the way it's written, it seems as if the proper process of manipulating the sense of presence, of generating charisma, can only come about through oral encounters and oral broadcasts, which is a ridiculous claim, given the lengthy world history of demagoguery, or the role of the written in some of the more famous propaganda campaigns. I suspect this must just be a slip in characterization, given the fact that most of the evidence comes from the monuments themselves, rather than actual oral exchanges.

Translation: The author claims that demagoguery is limited to orality, which is "ridiculous". I never claim that, by the way. Notice how we the reviewer moves from "seems as if" to "he claims, which is ridiculous." In argumentation theory, we call this a straw person argument.

Fourth and finally for this set of objections, the fixation on the monuments provide at best post hoc explanations for Long's hold on Louisiana state politics – they do nothing to provide empirical data for the functional analysis of the dialectic of demagoguery. Indeed, for the first twenty-or-so pages of the piece it seemed as if Long and the monuments were more important as excuses to discuss psychoanalysis, rather than a study of demagoguery made better or more valuable through the inclusion of a psychoanalytic theory of desire. The idea that the theory is in this case necessarily linked to the case study seems more than suspect, and if I begin with a suspicion of the jargon and tropes and reversals required in psychoanalysis, this piece will do little to overcome that initial bias.

Translation: I suspect the author's intent with this article is to convince those who are hostile to psychoanalysis that psychoanalysis is not all that bad, and can actually yield interesting insights. However, there is not time enough spent on the case study, and it seems little more than a ruse; it will fail to convince the hostile . I agree with this, for the most part, except this reviewer is excluding entirely the audience I am most directly interested in: students.

Now, let's say that I wasn't going to worry about that bias, and I think there are reasons that might be a valuable starting point, even if I don't find those reasons ultimately convincing. The problem is, that even if I did follow a general sympathy towards psychoanalysis, I believe that assessing the paper on its own terms also comes with problems.

Translation: I don't find any of the reasons I just outlined convincing myself, although they "might be a valuable starting point" and so I rehearsed them. Thanks asshole. As if I haven't heard those kinds of "biased" reviews before. I know for a fact the editor asked you to review because you were "down" with psychoanalysis, and you chose to spend the majority of your review rehearsing the arguments against your own position. Why is that? Trying to "toughen me up?" I smell "turf" policing. More sadism ensues:

The major problem here is that, at best, the study of the monuments shows only that after Huey, the public had such an hysterical impulse that they immortalized their own hysteresis in the robo huey and the monument at the capitol; it tells us nothing about the actual functioning of charisma. And this could just as easily be explained by the effects of the assassination, with little to do with the actual functioning or performance of anything we might label charisma. As with Christ, so with Long (a comparison that smacks a bit more of Zizek than Lacan, perhaps). This postmortem sense pf hysteresis, or guilt, tells us nothing about how Long is able to generate or manifest his charisma, much less his ability to manipulate obsessive and hysterical impulses. For that, one would need to tie it to his discourse, but this would be an entirely different project.

Translation: Your analysis of monuments dedicated to Huey Long do nothing to analyze Long's charisma. Exactly. This is because Long's charisma does not belong to Long; it is a product and dynamic of the Symbolic order, which belongs to no one (e.g., Huey's charisma is scripted by popular fantasy, like a movie). Nevertheless . . .

The readings of the monuments themselves, independent of any question of charisma and demagoguery, are valuable but also plagued with problems. The monuments are phallic yes, in an obvious sense, but that fact in and of itself indicates nothing other than their status as generic monuments, all of which are phallic in construction. Indeed, even with the discussion of the phallus in this piece, it makes no sense to qualify the monument's phallic status as strange or anything less than phallic, since all monuments face a threat to their sense of presence precisely because of what the purport to represent – the absent figure of a great man or woman. But to say that the buildings or statue are phallic, while correct and even comedic and interesting to note, does not provide the sort of evidence or interest needed to sustain reader interest. No attempt is made to discuss the architectural features; instead, readers are left to what amounts to an analogical argument (visualized on p. 20), which is I think, a very weak form of psychoanalytic critique.

Translation: So you claim the monuments are phallic: so what? All monuments are phallic. Reading this stuff I got bored.

The most interesting monument is the Robo-Huey, but it's clear from its placement in the essay that even Robo-Huey in and of him/itself is an insufficient object of analysis, insufficient even as an objet a. There's really no attempt to explain how Robo-Huey can be seen as any more interesting, and more indicative of the discourses of Huey long than might the animatronic greek gods in Caesar's palace indicate the supplications of Nevadans, or the various other animatronic statues of presidents and other historical figures that litter the countryside. To take the concern further, what about the animatronics is so important in the first place? What makes an animatronic so much more monumental than some other monument? These are questions that are, I think obvious, but that remain unanswered in the essay.

Translation: Your read of the automaton is a bore, and you fail to explain why the automaton is a special kind of monument. This is not true, as I detail in excess the relation of the automaton to death, which is intimately related to demagoguery . . . .

More annoyingly, in an otherwise well-written essay, the line in which readers are told that the animatronic statue reminds us of the “danger of demagoguery, that fascism is ultimately underwritten by death” is, I'm sorry, absurd. Fascism is underwritten by death, yes, but so is every other political system. Fascism is underwritten by death, something history recognizes as truth, and does so largely without the assistance of Robo-Huey. Indeed, I have difficulty even discerning a relationship between Robo-Huey, or the subject of the essay in general, and the sudden insertion of the word fascism. This sort of line, devoid of warrant and unrefined, isn't worthy of the rest of the essay, much less an NCA journal.

Translation: The comment about fascism and death is cliché in the extreme, and the article should be rejected on this line alone. I laughed aloud and read this line to my spouse over dinner, and we made fun, gleefully, of the author's stupidity. Why fascism suddenly appears is inexplicable. The "I'm sorry this is absurd" like is a sort of coy apology for being mean. And, of course, demagoguery has often been characterized as American fascism.

That being said, I think there are other roads that could have been taken with this material, but they are road perhaps traveled best by critical methods not grounded in psychoanalysis. The concept of the gift, introduced early in the piece but never significantly developed, is a very real possibility, though it would be a path defined by names other than Lacan, Evans, and Fink. I applaud the author for his/her writing and her/his willingness to tackle complex issues and relationships, but in this instance, I do not think that the tackle is particularly well executed.

Translation: Psychoanalysis has a bad name because of idiots like you. Leave it to more careful scholars. You're a moron.

Aight, so this si wound-licking. But it feels good, and this is my blog, so THERE! One can only imagine what the reviewer's remarks were to the editor alone. It does bite a bit to be called stupid (albeit in a way that does not seem like an ad hominem). I much prefer the nasty reviews because they're easier to dismiss.

I sometimes get comments from friends and colleagues to the effect that publishing is "easier" for me because they see my name in print. They are surprised when I tell them my rejection rate is fairly high, that a given manuscript often sees two to three different sets of reviewers (at different journals) before it gets to print, and that divided reviews are the norm. None of this stuff comes easy for me (or most people, I underscore), and those whispers in smoky bars about how "bad" my work is—from my incompetent use of psychoanalytic theory to how horribly wrong my reading of Walter Benjamin is—do get back to me. Does it hurt? You bet. Do I care? Yup. Am I going to admit I'm stupid, throw up my hands and proclaim, "I give up?" Nope. Never claimed to be brilliant, and I try to avoid making any gestures to that effect. But you say my ass hanging out? Very well then, my ass is hanging out. But it’s a creative, hairy, and lovable ass, even if it smells wrong to some people. It's time for us younger scholars to be foolish, to stop worrying about "being brilliant," and to embrace a new coprophilic style! Oh, and yeah, while it DOES hurt, we DO have each other, right?