Creation Waits

Speculative Realism, Existential Theology, and Apocalyptic Pedagogy

Category: Speculative Realism

Perichoretic Oikeiosis

What Augustine says concerning God—namely, that “the Father is not God without the Son, nor the Son God without the Father” (On the Trinity, Book VI, Ch. 2)—can be said about two aspects (for lack of a better term) of all real beings: that is, the virtual and the manifest. These ontological terms, like the theological terms ‘Father’ and ‘Son’, are relational terms. The virtual qua virtual can be understood only in relation to the manifest, for to speak of the virtual is to speak of that which has the power to give rise to a manifestation. And the manifest is that which processes from the virtual. Putting a spin on Maximus the Confessor (see Ambiguum 26 in Edward Jeanneau, ed., Amnigua ad Iohannem, 153), we can say: the name ‘virtual’ is neither a name of essence nor a name of energy. It is a name of one of the constitutive relationships in the perichoretic unity that is a real being; ‘manifest’ names the other.

To speak of the substance of a being is to speak about the virtual. This accounts for the identity of substance, notwithstanding the plurality of manifestations and diverse relationships into which a being can enter. As Levi Bryant has argued, we cannot speak of “the manifestation” of a thing in an absolute and unqualified sense; rather, all manifestations are local manifestations (The Democracy of Objects, 2011, p. 69). Hence, the manifest, which is often taken as the most real, is ontologically dependent on the virtual. For this reason, substance is ontologically prior to the manifest. However, for real material beings, there is an interplay, a perichoresis, between the virtual and the manifest, and it cannot be any other way. ‘Perichoresis’ denotes the process through which a being that is, in one sense, withdrawn from and other-than any of its actualizations or local manifestations nevertheless “others” itself through relation, thereby becoming manifest.

But this interplay can proceed in various ways. When the interplay preserves the virtual and the manifest as a perichoretic unity—when the dance, so to speak, continues to play itself out in a mutually affirming manner—the being achieves a kind of oikeiosis, an “at-homeness”, or form of dwelling, that is normative. How else, indeed, could we meaningfully frame a normative judgment concerning a thing, except by reference to what allegedly constitutes a productive and preserving interplay between the virtual and the manifest of a being?

This is not to be understood as permitting the application of normative judgments to all things. We must recognize that for some beings there is no possibility that the interplay between the virtual and the manifest can be raised as a matter of concern, or as a legitimate question. For beings such as us, however, it is a question; the form of interplay between what is virtual and what is manifest is always open to question.

The use of the word ‘aspect’ in the first paragraph, above, isn’t quite right, as I’ve indicated in an earlier post. The problems associated with this term lead me to want to appropriate and employ another concept from Trinitarian theology—viz., the concept of person, as it is used with regard to the Father and the Son. Of course, ‘person’ is a term of art in theology (and hence, an equivocal term from a broader perspective), which is widely misunderstood outside of  theological contexts. Using it here would only cause confusion. (Though perhaps a more detailed explication of the perichoretic ontology that I have in mind could serve as a useful occasion to rehabilitate the theological term in philosophical circles.) I’ve kicked around various possible alternatives (including ‘differentiator’), but I keep returning to a fundamental question: is it even appropriate to use a universal term to cover both the virtual and manifest? I recognize that ‘aspect’ has the wrong connotation, and every other possibility that I consider seems similarly inadequate. Perhaps, when dealing with speculative matters of fundamental ontology, this is par for the course.

I suggest above that a being can fail to achieve oikeiosis, which is in keeping with the original Stoic use of the term that inspired me to appropriate it. I’ll need to consider carefully whether this is coherent. Certainly, I want to maintain that all things dwell; to the extent that they are, they dwell in some way. If oikeiosis is a form of dwelling, all of this is coherent, but it is incoherent if ‘oikeiosis’ is simply a nominalized form of ‘dwell’.

“No Ecology without Anthropology”

I continue to reflect on Pope Francis’s claim, “There can be no ecology without an adequate anthropology.”

On the one hand, this seems like the exact opposite view of those involved in the “speculative turn.” The speculative realists engaged in object-oriented ontology encourage us to move beyond correlationism, the thesis that we cannot interrogate being except by considering the human person: the being for whom being is a question.

On the other hand, there is a sense in which Byrant, in The Democracy of Objects, begins his object-oriented ontology with an anthropology. Before advancing his own version of speculative realism (that is, before presenting his ontology of objects), he argues that we must understand that human subjects are themselves objects. In so doing, he is explicitly jettisoning a false anthropology.

Moreover, Bryant’s project is surely motivated by humane concerns. It is largely, if not precisely, because of the terrible consequences suffered by humanity and other animals, which flow from our blindness to the being of non-human things, that he seeks to articulate a robust account of being as such which is free from the reigning anthropocentrism.

So can there be an ecology without an anthropology? Not for us. We find ourselves under the spell of ideologies of rupture and, especially, a subject-object dichotomy which blinds us to diversity of being and our place within it. Hence, to see the things of the world right, we need to first set our understanding of ourselves right.

Is Francis’s Integral Ecology Incompatible with Biocentrism?

As I’ve already explained, in Laudato Si’, Pope Francis (2015) rejects anthropocentric ideologies of rupture, which allow us to think of ourselves as radically other-than the creatures of the world and of our social systems as disconnected from other “natural” systems. What I failed to mention is that he also rejects biocentrism:

There can be no ecology without an adequate anthropology. When the human person is considered as simply one being among others, the product of chance or physical determinism, then “our overall sense of responsibility wanes.” A misguided anthropocentrism need not necessarily yield to “biocentrism,” for that would entail adding yet another imbalance, failing to solve present problems and adding new ones. Human beings cannot be expected to feel responsibility for the world unless, at the same time, their unique capacities of knowledge, will, freedom and responsibility are recognized and valued. (Sec. 118)

The gist of this passage is clear: human beings are uniquely moral creatures, and his integral ecology shouldn’t be understood as denying this. Nevertheless, the way that biocentrism figures into the discussion seems puzzling to me, since I had assumed, prior to getting to this section, that Francis was presenting a kind of biocentricism.

Biocentrism is the thesis that all life has inherent value. Francis seems to assume that if we accept this, we must accept that we do not have “unique capacities of knowledge, will, freedom and responsibility.” This strikes me as a non sequitur. I conceive of biocentricism as expanding our sphere of moral concern rather than diminishing our understanding of our own value or being. I would certainly agree that if biocentrism entailed the denial of our own unique moral capacities and responsibilities, then it would be a faulty view. But it isn’t clear to me that it does.

To begin to see why, let me note that I assume that to say a being has inherent value is to say that its value is a function of its being; that is, it is owing to what that creature is and that it is. Such a claim denies that the value of a being is bestowed upon it by some other creature. There is no real tension between the biocentrist affirmation of the inherent value of all living beings and the recognition of our uniquely human moral capacities and responsibilities, for inherent value is superadded, so to speak, to whatever a being is. Within a Christian framework, this superaddition is a function of the fact that all beings, in virtue of being what they are, participate in a creation that is a communion, which has as its head, Christ. And for those of us who possesses moral capacities and responsibilities, those capacities and responsibilities are aspects of our being, which determine how we participate in this vast, universal communion. But the present point is that other beings very different from us also possesses inherent value, though owing to appropriately different bases. I interpret biocentrism as the view that a particular human being is valuable qua particular human being, a pelican is valuable qua pelican, a bee or bee colony qua bee or bee colony, and so forth. (Could it be that only certain animals are valuable qua individuals, while others are valuable qua the collectives of which they are a part? That is a provocative question worth further exploration.)

We might wonder, what is the practical consequence of claiming that all things are inherently valuable? Does it entail or require that no creature can be used by another? That seems like an absurd and life-denying conclusion. Perhaps something like that intuition drives Francis’s rejection of biocentricism. If that were the case, this would constitute only a rejection of biocentricism in a nominal sense. I say this because it seems to me that biocentrism requires an adjustment first and foremost to our ontological assumptions, with adjustments to practical reasoning following in a secondary sense. While it surely follows that we cannot use other beings in all the ways we are accustomed to, it seems perfectly in keeping with an acknowledgement of other beings’ inherent value that we, like them, must use some of them as food, and that our interests will come into conflict with theirs.

The sort of ontological adjustment that biocentrism requires is a recognition and appreciation of the ways in which the beings of the world dwell in communion with one another, as well as a recognition of the inescapable limits imposed upon our understanding of creation; although we can recognize that we live in communion, as creatures within it we cannot impose detailed, totalizing narratives upon it. Like everything else, we can only attend to the “local.” In other words, we can recognize and acknowledge that we uniquely dwell alongside other beings who themselves uniquely dwell within a beautifully diverse creation, even if we cannot fully understand or comprehend the whole in its totality.

…all of us are linked by unseen bonds and together form a kind of universal family, a sublime communion which fills us with a sacred, affectionate and humble respect. Here I would reiterate that “God has joined us so closely to the world around us that we can feel the desertification of the soil almost as a physical ailment, and the extinction of a species as a painful disfigurement.” (Sec. 89, quoting his own Apostolic Exhortation Evangelii Gaudium.)

Levi Bryant (2014) offers an analogous, albeit a secular, account of this reorientation. He argues that human subjects are themselves objects, ontologically on par with all other things. Far from leading us to abandon ourselves within the “democracy of objects,” this serves to refocus our attention on our unique mode of dwelling and reawaken us to the reality of which we are a part in such a way that we recognize that this “world” evades our attempts to impose upon it a totalizing unity. We may speculate about being, but we are not outside, we do not stand over and above the “world,” such that we can ever legitimately say that we now understand “it” and can, therefore, rightly assume the position of masters over it.

And yet, this “it” that we recognize is beyond our comprehension is nevertheless our home (our “common home,” to use Francis’s phrase). How can we at once reaffirm our place within the world or creation while simultaneously heeding the lesson that we cannot legitimately impose a totalizing narrative upon it?

In her book, Minimal Ethics for the Anthropocene, Joanna Zylinska writes,

“The world” does not really name any kind of objective external reality. Rather […] this term should be understood as first and foremost referring to a temporary mental organization, undertaken by a spatially embedded and embodied human, of the various processes of which she is part. (p. 77)

I think this is largely correct. The critical intellectual move is to attend to the embodiedness of our thought, recognizing that we each find ourselves in a locality while also recognizing that other beings dwell within various other localities and that these localities are interconnected in ways that will always surprise us and disrupt our conceptions of the whole. This allows us to suspend our desire to dominate and understand the whole without leading us to reject its reality.

Of course, I suppose this is a sort of totalizing narrative of its own, but it leads us into a reflexive aporia which is totally unlike the false confidence encouraged by the technocratic ideology.

Works Cited

Bryant, Levi (2011). The Democracy of Objects. Open Humanities Press.

Francis (2015). Laudato Si’. Encyclical Letter on Care for Our Common Home.

Zylinska, Joanna (2014). Minimal Ethics for the Anthropocene. Open Humanities Press.

Is Theism Compatible with OOO?

Not obviously.

The object-oriented ontological (OOO) perspective developed by Levi Bryant, which in many respects I find appealing, is explicitly anti-theistic, at least vis-à-vis traditional theism. By this I mean OOO is not merely agnostic on the issue of God but, rather, it allegedly entails that there can be no being (to use the phrasing of the Book of Common Prayer) “[to] whom all hearts are open, all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hid.” Moreover, the very spirit of OOO, as exemplified by its staunch anti-anthropocentrism, is presumably incompatible with (traditional) theism, which is subject to the Feuerbachian critique of being a disguised anthropology.

However, it seems to me that there might be a kind of object-oriented ontology and a kind of (non-traditional) theism which would be compatible. To even begin to constitute a unified and consistent theology, a speculative realist theology would have to affirm what John Caputo, following (in an ironic twist) St. Paul, has called “the weakness of God,” as well as Jürgen Moltmann’s related notion of “a suffering God.” (See this review article by Heltzel.)

I’ve just begun to explore Caputo’s weak theology of the event, and it has only been a few months since I’ve become interested in the possibility of a speculative realist theology. My research agenda for the coming months includes the following topics:

  • A critical examination of Levi Bryant’s anti-theistic arguments.
  • A careful reading of Caputo’s The Weakness of God, with special attention to how it might bear on Trinitarian thought (something which I have gathered has been underdeveloped).
  • Consideration of the anti-anthropocentrism of speculative realism, its rejection of correlationism, and whether a “weak theology” can meet the basic requirements of speculative realism.