Cary Wolfe (Rice University) spoke today about Animal Studies, Disciplinarity, and the Posthumanities: can one fish or retrieve something inerrantly human, after the fraying of human nature at the hands of biology since the XIXth century and now in the middle of a frantic and ever-expanding commercialization and commoditization that know of no solution of continuity from plants or animals to humans (add other -zations at will)? Nussbaum in one corner of the ring (post-Aristotelian-cum-Rawls yeah), Derrida in the other (vielleicht, suivez mon regard, ou plutôt celui de mon chat). Serious topic, and the bass continuo I was hearing in Wolfe’s speech was that any attempt at grounding a “humanity,” no matter the theoretical dicing, slicing or listing, is still and ever about preserving power, while the recognition of a common vulnerability might be ground for care, restraint, a “do no harm” philosophy, and perhaps resistance to the powers that be. A fully recognized humus for a new, broader, unexpected humanity. Vulnerability, which invites silence.

The lecture was in the Humanities building. A mind follows its eyes and wanders back and forth from the barky sequoias to the loquacious homines erecti

La nature est un temple où de vivants piliers
Laissent parfois sortir de confuses paroles;
L’homme y passe à travers des forêts de symboles
Qui l’observent avec des regards familiers.

Is this regard familier, hypostatized in his paradigmatic cat, what Derrida was puzzling about for so long, as his posthumously published ruminations on animalia (neuter) seem to indicate? Baudelaire for one is fascinated (and willing to be wounded?) by the claws, electrum, cold abyss, of cat-woman in

Le Chat

Viens, mon beau chat, sur mon coeur amoureux;
Retiens les griffes de ta patte,
Et laisse-moi plonger dans tes beaux yeux,
Mêlés de métal et d’agate.

Lorsque mes doigts caressent à loisir
Ta tête et ton dos élastique,
Et que ma main s’enivre du plaisir
De palper ton corps électrique,

Je vois ma femme en esprit. Son regard,
Comme le tien, aimable bête
Profond et froid, coupe et fend comme un dard,

Et, des pieds jusques à la tête,
Un air subtil, un dangereux parfum
Nagent autour de son corps brun.

Back to posthumanities, in which the “post” keeps confusing me. The Humanities building sits among trees whose ancestors have seen mule trains drag logs and carts of lime that went to build roads and cities from which UC emerged.

Animals had something in common with humans once, and still do in many parts of the world. Out of necessity, people lived very close to them. Horses, cows, pigs, hens even, were (could be) at the center of a modest farmer’s preoccupations. Have you ever seen a cart-driver speak quiet words to the head horse in a team pulling too heavy a load, the horse responding with all its strength, the pride to follow, oats, water and scrubbing… No distantiating romanticism here for those working from morning to dawn in the busy seasons of ploughing, planting, weeding, harvesting.

The necessity is gone in an industrial world whose logic dictates that animal life be seen as production, unnameable, transformable matter: transformable i.e. monetizable, with the same fate awaiting us soon? “Logic” of production and consumption, greed hiding behind logic: a strikingly narrow logic that is suffocating.  How can one breathe better?