22 Oct Emotion and politics

Mabel Brezin writes:

Identity is inextricable from the understanding of the self and is central to participation in meaningful patterns of social and political action…[t]he social construction of identities involves the recognition of and participation in a web of social relations or communities that envelop the self and through which individuals feel themselves as identical with others. Identities are neither essential or purely constructed, they are multiple but not schizophrenic” (2001, 84).

Identity is both ontological (describing a state of being) and epistemological (a category of social knowledge and classification) (Somers, 1994). It is fluid and yet can also stand fixed. It is self-identified and conferred.

I’ve been thinking rather heavily on this notion of “identity” lately, especially with regard to political mobilization. The fluidity of the personal sense of identity comes with it, at times, a kind of ambivalence that is reflective of the instability of movements themselves. And yet, at the same time, the very fixed nature of identity (and particularly identity conferral) can problematize  the very nature of involvement.

I am not just speaking about the Occupy protest / movement, but also of the very personal politics of the every day. Because identity sits in such a precariously manipulable position, it can be used as a weapon. Particularly in academia, the intellectual exercise of critical deconstruction can undermine attempts to understand or even employ constructive frames for moving forward, and may even be silencing.

Political mobilization is fueled by many different emotions – quite often by fear, anger, resentment, or even compassion and obligation (Polletta & Amenta, 2001). Similarly, the choice not to participate is equally balanced against emotional response. So why bring up emotion?

Emotionality is a very personal experience that, when harnessed, can be incredibly constructive or incredibly destructive. When stepping into the political arena, the emotional responses of those attempting to participate are as important (if not more) than those who already hold the power to decide that there is a movement to participate in. As Shiela Rowbotham stated in 1971:

Movements develop in the process of communicating themselves… We have not even words for ourselves. Thinking is difficult when the words are not your own. Borrowed concepts are like passed down clothes; they fit badly and do not give confidence… We walk and talk and think in living contradiction.

So it is that the invitation to engage in a political discourse should also be a recognition that the discourses may actually be in different languages. The inability or disinclination to use the same language as those with the power to frame the discussion should not delegitimize one half of the conversation – should not silence.

What has been fascinating to me over the past few weeks (again, i cannot stress enough that this is not just in Occupy, but in other activities that i have been involved with) is the sheer power of the emotional response of those whose positionality insinuates a particular place in hierarchy to utterly silence the possibility of reframing the discussion. What has struck me is the use of “anti-essentialist” critiques, the mobilization of powerful tropes of academia in the act of silencing. It is the power of some people to set the discourse of the narrative of not only what is worth talking about but also how we may talk about it.

There is a danger in this lack of self-reflexivity of dependence on hegemonic discursive frames – of relying on the “common-sensical-ness” of them. These processes of silencing are a reflection of an ownership over the ways in which some people are allowed to respond or react to the politics of change. Thus, there emerges a policing of emotions and a containment of “appropriate” identity (formation and articulation), which ultimately frames the “right way” to engage politically.

The difficulty is, that even as i struggle to articulate the utter frustrations i have dealt with over the past two and a half weeks (particularly – for much longer than that, in general), i don’t know how to conclude. With gentle reminders for self-reflection? Kind encouragements to listen a little more closely? The difficulty is that i don’t know how to do that without muffling others’ emotional and political responses. That is absolutely not my intention. I think emotion is useful, and when examined closely, can help reveal the underlying biases that we all have.

As S.N. Goenka tells us, pay attention to those negative reactions. Those tensed muscles, that upset stomach – they’re telling you something – something is wrong. But rather than react, find the source of the discomfort, in equanimity. With patience and persistence, re-examine yourself and understand the source of that discomfort.