I talked about miracles not long ago, and somehow it seemed relevant to discuss writing in relation to them. Relevant, but not immediately available, since writing (unlike miracles) is premeditated, i.e. we know what it is going to lead us to before we have experienced it at all.
Stultifera Navis
The
miraculous side of writing, if such thing is ever possible (if it is ever
allowed to happen within the bounds of the marvellous), is not a thing easy for
us to acquire. That, of course, has nothing to do with writing in particular,
but rather, more generally, with the way we are taught and with the way
education happens upon us.
Source: Studio Bendib |
Schools do not work by means of sudden discoveries,
but via a gradual, painstaking, scholastic unfolding of all forms of knowledge,
of all techniques and all distinctions. Jacques Rancière insists that our
perception of education is wrong from the get-go. We assume, he argues, that
between the teacher and the disciple there is (there must be!) a difference of
intellects. There’s always the Titan who knows and the pygmy who has no clue.
It is between these two tragic figures that we tend to negotiate the meaning of
learning. One is smart (too smart), while the other is stupid (too stupid).
There is nothing left between these extremities: no territory where the teacher
can be stupid (at least a little) and the student smart (at least for the
length of the season of their education). In fact, the difference is so
colossal, the disciple is in a constant state of stupefaction. He/she needs to
be shaken into reality in order to realize his/her own presence in the
equation. He/she needs to be told and re-told how little they know and how much
they still have to learn. And that stultifies them (to use a term Rancière employs
a lot). Seen from this perspective, education is a capital promise; rarely a
fulfillment.
Read the prescription!
Rancière
doesn't deny the existence of a fundamental inequality in the phenomenon of
education. But (he argues) this is not an inequality of intellects, but rather
an inequality of volitions. It is the willingness to learn (to give up
everything else in order to learn) that truly makes a difference between the
one who knows and the one who doesn't. And then again, the one who doesn't know
is not necessarily inferior. He/she is simply not interested. Or (which is
worse) he/she is not interested because he/she is constantly kept in check by a
massive apparatus of social and political constraints which give them tasks to
complete, jobs to finish, positions to fill, thus making it impossible to
approach education in ways that are non-professional.
And so, we
get to learn writing according to prescriptions. Not only are we force-fed with
genres, templates, models, we are also reminded of the sanctions applicable in
case of non-compliance. Consider plagiarism, and the qualifications of
dishonesty, stealth, or wrongful appropriation. A whole rhetoric of criminality
scares the soul out of us every step of the way.
Miracles, of
course, are not possible under such conditions. The thing that singularises
miracles is their disrespect for rules. In order for a miracle to take place it
has to contravene. It has to surprise by non-compliance. And this is why writing,
when taught in schools, isn't much fun.
Remember
Descartes? He started his method with a negation of all schools. That’s why his
realization (Je pense, donc je suis)
comes as a shock, as a surprise that reconfigures the ground of all education;
as a miracle, to some extent. Once Descartes discovers the essence of man in
his ability to reason, the fun can start all over again.
No epiphanies, please!
But schools
forbid situations where the learner comes suddenly upon a realization,
especially when the realization doesn't happen under the mentor’s control. They
are even fiercer when it comes to self-taught individuals. Auto-didacticism is
rejected by educational institutions for obvious reasons: if you’re capable of
teaching yourself, what’s the use of the school? The school is an institution, there’s
no secret in it. And thus, to most of us, the discovery of writing is not a
discovery at all but an encounter with the disciplining power of schools.
Source: Edudemic |
Sadly
enough, we don’t perceive the encounter with writing as an explosion, as
rapture. Writing is prepared for us and we are prepared for the meeting with
writing. There’s an arranged marriage between us. We learn how to draw circles
and lines and how, for instance, to associate the letter C with an open mouth,
and D with an open mouth carrying a stick. In essence, writing is first
drawing, which is acquired ability to reproduce (i.e. approximate) things. As Serge Tisseron points out with a pert psychoanalytic
wink, writing as a graphic gesture has its origins in drawing, or the leaving
of traces upon a page. There is, in other words, another stage that precedes
the inscriptional technique we call writing. Writing, you see?, really has no chance
to surprise us.
History and materiality
But there is
another, more obvious reason why writing and miracles are not exactly on the
same page; and that is the fact of writing’s history. Now, in the second decade
of the twenty-first century, we come in contact with writing not as a craft but
as a mass of accumulated productions. Millions and millions of pages,
infinities of words, letters impossible to count. The deluge is apparent not
only in the traditional forms, but also, and more prominently, in the new
digital media. Now, more than ever before, writing comes to us wearing the
outfit of endlessness. Now, more than ever before, it is possible to see
Borges’ infinite library materialized as an exceptional accumulation. Of
course, this is not a thing of the twenty-first century. The superabundance of
texts has been called to attention at various points in the history of writing;
but to a reader at the beginning of the twenty-first century it appears more
pressing because of the diversification of the means of production. We already
have behind us a history so vast, a multitude of texts so baffling, an ease in
handling writing tools so obvious, it is impossible to pretend we didn't know.
Writing is upon us before we open our eyes. We wear it on the bracelet in the maternity
ward: the label to carry for the rest of our lives.
Source: ABC News |
And then
there’s also the material maintenance of writing in general. Writing implements
used to come, not long ago, in support
of writing, as consequences of writing
(post-writing, so to speak). The new
digital technologies, however, precede, motivate, encourage writing. They make
writing unavoidable. Among the machines of our times there are many which have
been invented with the sole purpose of generating new forms of writing. The
multimodal composition that dominates the online world is not a consequent but
a precedent of digital writing. Writing is now designed rather than laid upon
the page in a reliable linear fashion.
Source: Digital Trends |
Design, of
course, presupposes conscious planning, scheduling, forecasting, organization,
programming, calculation, premeditation, scheming. The design of digital texts
is a cunning design. It makes writing fit into patterns that are no longer
appreciated by other humans, but by machines. Digital writing is first and
foremost writing to the satisfaction of algorithms. And that makes writing,
once again, incapable of performing miracles.
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