Sunday, February 1, 2009

The Reversal of History (?)

The cliche states that history repeats itself, so beware. Learn history so you don't have to relive it; not so according to Baudrillard--and I tend to trust him more than the cliche if only because he opens up his thought process to others (not that I would come close to calling him "transparent"). The theorist analyzes the reversal of history as a circle that humans rarely veer away from. History swings back onto itself even as we recreate the past. History is an appropriation and reappropriation of story: there is no history, only infinite personal histories compiled and edited by specific people who may or may not have a particular agenda (Hitler, for example. Or even American history text books--was the Civil War really about slavery in that narrative? Not really). Instead of focusing on the individual exigencies, history demands that it is a general History with athority, parsing down centuries into an endless series of battles, treaties, rebellions, a few plagues, an increasing smattering of inventions. I don't think people really want to move on from history; we enjoy repeating it, we savor the idea that it bears our fingerprints along with the preserved smudges of the past.

If, as Baudrillard proposes, history inevitably curves into itself (there is no past, there is no future--for it is the same as the past--the present is a continual, misunderstood now) we must assert more weight and pressure on this moment--if only to slightly broaden the spaciality of our story, perhaps to create a new line. Sure, history may repeat itself, but we should recreate it in order to form a present. A few days ago I reread Paul Grainge's essay "Theorizing Nostalgia Isn't What it Used to Be"--which will always connect in my mind to Baudrillards "Simulacra and Simulations." Grainge asserts that "memory is now a matter of conscious construction and preservation, rather than instinctive and impromptu feeling; it is artificially hyper-realized in response to our basic estrangement from the past." Nostalgia begins now to create history, nostalgia re-views history, nostalgia reinterprets reality until the realtiy may no longer be essential to the story we follow.

Tie this into Jacques Derrida, whose ideas about the archive have altered the way I perceive life: in literal terms the archive is the place/building where historical and necessary documents are preserved--right? (Think: Declaration of Independence, guarded, in glass, yet displayed as a public symbol). The archons are those who protect and understand the documents in the archive; they are the interpreters (The Supreme Court members serve as the archons of the Constitution). As a direct result of their duties, the archons hold immense power. (Think the Bible or Mass only in Latin--who interprets? Who understands? Translation allows individuals to become their own archons and determine how certain documents will shape who they become.) The archive is a "commencement"--a reference, new ground, a compass--and at the same time a "commandment"--a compass that determines the course of histories, both general and particular--as long as that archive is accepted.

Sidenote on archives: Poetry was the long-established literature--psalms, Homer, Greek plays, sonnets, the works. Poetry formed the archive. Poets were both the creators and interpretors, or the primary archons. In recent generations, poetry has lost some of its power because (in part) people are intimidated by it. They don't believe that they have the ability to interpret it for themselves anymore. Even English major step aside from poetry and often avoid analyzing it. This may be in part due to scholars like T.S. Eliot (an Archon with a capital A) who tried to reclaim the poetry archive in such a way that people no longer desired to turn to the archive. They submitted their sense of direction to it. They stopped caring (to an extend). What a shame. The poetry archive still exists, but is avoided because of its potential hazards. One of my life goals is to invite people into this archive again, to show them that they do own a part of it--whether they are archons or not. (Hence, the battle over Billy Collins: is he dumbing down the poetic archive so that more will enter? Or is he making poetry more accessible so that people can appreciate the treasures stored there?)

All of this can also connect Michel de Certeau's thought that stories create space. More than place a space is like a verb, an interplay of relationships and actions, stories create the reality surrounding the stabilized/static place (such as immoveable walls). Spaces require stories in order to exist (another reason why poetry and literature are essential to the existence and continuance of humanity). More concisely than I can, he writes: "Stories thus carry out a labor that constantly transforms places into spaces or spaces into places. They also organize the play of changing relationships between places and spaces."

Stories become histories, histories demand literature, people turn to the archive which may or may not be the actual reality--but we need that guiding symbol in order to form our present, to increase our influence, and reverse history in teh direction that we desire or believe. Mortality, then, claims a larger ethical responsibility than I am always perpared to admit.

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