Deleuze isn't the only one to receive mail from harsh critics containing a vicious mixture of aggression, accusation, and abuse. Almost everyday in my inbox there's something from someone or other outlining the weaknesses of my arguments and my personal shortcomings; i.e. a sort of celebration of my supposedly sorry condition.
Thus, for example, I was recently informed by a correspondent - who shall remain nameless - that I'm a text-obsessed, theory-loving intellectual with no experience of actual events in the real world and that this - coupled to my continued support for radical feminism - makes me the kind of weak and unmanly figure who refuses to take a firm or fixed position and simply dances round the issues.
Obviously, these charges are meant to make me feel bad or guilty in some manner and are intended not just to provoke a response, but to wound and to shame. But, unfortunately for my finger-pointing and finger-wagging friend, they simply make me smile.
For one thing, it's true that I do love books. Indeed, I'd proudly identify myself as a homotextual. However, I must insist that reading and writing is not something abstract or ideal; rather, it's a fully material process that is itself an actual event in the real world. In other words, theory is a form of praxis. As an anti-dualist, I simply don't subscribe to the metaphysical model that places thinking on one side of a divide and doing on the other.
Further, I would advise my critic to be extremely wary of using the word 'intellectual' in a derogatory manner as if it were a term of abuse. For whilst there is a long tradition of anti-intellectualism, it's really not one that any decent individual should wish to belong to, originating as it does in French anti-Semitism (the term 'intellectual' having been coined by those who sought the conviction of Dreyfus to sneer at his supporters such as Zola).
Obviously, these charges are meant to make me feel bad or guilty in some manner and are intended not just to provoke a response, but to wound and to shame. But, unfortunately for my finger-pointing and finger-wagging friend, they simply make me smile.
For one thing, it's true that I do love books. Indeed, I'd proudly identify myself as a homotextual. However, I must insist that reading and writing is not something abstract or ideal; rather, it's a fully material process that is itself an actual event in the real world. In other words, theory is a form of praxis. As an anti-dualist, I simply don't subscribe to the metaphysical model that places thinking on one side of a divide and doing on the other.
Further, I would advise my critic to be extremely wary of using the word 'intellectual' in a derogatory manner as if it were a term of abuse. For whilst there is a long tradition of anti-intellectualism, it's really not one that any decent individual should wish to belong to, originating as it does in French anti-Semitism (the term 'intellectual' having been coined by those who sought the conviction of Dreyfus to sneer at his supporters such as Zola).
As for this idea of skirting or dancing around ideas like a woman ... Well, I can't see anything wrong with that either: I am openly transpositional and admire all those individuals who are light-footed as well as lighthearted and quick-witted. My critic seems to think that being flat-footed, iron-fisted, and pig-headed makes one manly and Nietzschean. But he's mistaken on both counts: it just makes boring. And stupid. As Zarathustra says, he would never make himself the enemy of young girls with fair ankles. Besides, what is all great writing - be it philosophical or literary in character - other than a process of becoming-woman?
One is tempted in closing to paraphrase Emma Goldman: If I can't dance, then I don't want to be part of your libertarian revolution! And just as Deleuze advises Michel Cressole so I would advise my critic: as charming, intelligent, and mischievous as you are, you might also try to be a bit kinder.
Disclaimer: The character appearing as my critic in the above post is of course entirely fictitious; a functional component of the text. As of course am I in my role as author and narrator. Any resemblance to actual persons outside of this textual space, living or dead, is purely coincidental. My apologies to those for whom this goes without saying.
One is tempted in closing to paraphrase Emma Goldman: If I can't dance, then I don't want to be part of your libertarian revolution! And just as Deleuze advises Michel Cressole so I would advise my critic: as charming, intelligent, and mischievous as you are, you might also try to be a bit kinder.
Disclaimer: The character appearing as my critic in the above post is of course entirely fictitious; a functional component of the text. As of course am I in my role as author and narrator. Any resemblance to actual persons outside of this textual space, living or dead, is purely coincidental. My apologies to those for whom this goes without saying.
