Author: Lars Iyer

We’re the only philosophy unit in the region. For miles. Nothing at Northumbria. They closed down the department at Sunderland. Of course they did!

Nothing at Teeside. There’s Durham, of course. Yes, Durham! We’re all envious of Durham! But we’re carrying the philosophical torch for the city. We’re its sole bearers in Newcastle. A great responsibility!

We’re bearers of civilisation. We’re keeping the flame – the philosophical flame. And the European philosophy flame to boot. There are barely any European philosophy departments left anywhere.

Attitudes like ours … thought-patterns like ours … are the product of this kind of world. We’re a symptom of this kind of world. We’re this world’s madness. We’re this world’s perversity. We’re this world’s fever.

This is our world, and we belong to it. We wish we didn’t! We wish we were from somewhere complete different! But we’re not. And this world explains us.

 

A philosophy like ours doesn’t come from nowhere. This world – it comes from here. Nowhere else.

We’re thinkers of his world, born of this world. Which is why we can’t trust any of our impulses. Why we can’t trust any of our desires. Because they’re the world’s impulses! The world’s desires!

They closed philosophy in the ‘80s. that was the warning sign. That was their shot across the bows. Did we really think that there could be a philosophy department again?

Sure, all the higher-ups had changed. Sure, senior management had moved on. No one from that time remained at the university. But there was a legacy of philosophy-suppression at our cherished university. There was a tradition of philosophy-banishment. And we should respect that!

The lesson was clear: not merely that there was nothing special about Philosophy. Nor just that Philosophy was not exempt to university restructuring. Not simply that Philosophy as subject to the same laws, the same rules as other subjects. No: Philosophy had to assume a special humility. A singular abjection. Philosophy had to stand, cap in hand, head bent, to be ready for orders.

 

And what this will mean for Organisational Management? The risk of disorganised derangement! Of chaotic unmanagement!

Organisational Management could pay a great price agreeing to take us. We should realise that. We should feel grateful that anyone would accept us.

We should remember that Organisational Management aren’t being forced to do this. That Organisational Management volunteered for this.

Organisational Management stood up to be counted. Organisational Management are making a gamble. Taking a punt. There are risks! Obvious risks! But they decided to take us in. And take us on. And bring us round to the Organisational Management way of doing things.

Doubtless lessons will have to be learnt on both sides (especially our side.) Adjustments made (especially our adjustments.) Compromises (our compromises, obviously.) It won’t be straightforward. There’ll be teething problems, probably. Cultural misunderstandings. Misprisions. Inevitably. But if we decide to work together. With a good attitude …

Then a new symbiosis might be possible. A successful grafting of Philosophy onto Organisational Management. Is that the aim?

Everyone pretends it isn’t madness, that’s the thing. Moving philosophy to Organisational Management is passed off as perfectly sane! As a sensible plan. As a laudable example of interdisciplinarity! It was praised at Senate for exactly that reason!

Which is why the Philosophy to Organisational Management initiative was approved at every level of the university. Which is how it made its way through the committees. Which is why it was agreed to by the highest managers! The uni’s best – and brightest! Up there on the fifteenth floor!

The picture is bigger up there. They have all the info. They can see things we can’t. It was a question of strategy. Of strategic planning. And they have to plan. They’re in possession of knowledge we can only guess at. Aware of risks …

They did the SWOT plans. Strength! Weaknessess! Opportunities! Threats! We should accept their decisions. As they are handed down to us. Without our input. Without our consultation.

Of course philosophy should move to Organisational Management. Where else? Not to the School of Arts and Cultures. Not to Religious Studies. Not to History. No: to Organisational Management, which is Business Studies, effectively. Of course!

 

So when the email was sent at 5PM on Friday, when the email arrived – just before the weekend, as the office closed – when the news came we should have received it with joy. With great welcome. With a song! With merriment! And not confusion. Not with abysmal despair.

We shouldn’t have gone on one of our famous weekend benders. We shouldn’t have begun drinking and not stopped for the next few days. We shouldn’t have needed to!

Thankful: that’s what we should have been. Grateful. That they’d noticed us. That they’d included us in their plans. That they’d made a decision – a surprising decision, granted – about little old us.

And we wrong to link it to Cicero’s retirement. No doubt! We were wrong to think they supposed they could do what they liked with us now Cicero had gone. We were entirely in error to imagine nefarious plans concerning our future. That it was some covert way of shutting us down.

And why would we need to be consulted? Why should we have to be told except by email? On a Friday? A five PM?

The greatest brains had decided! From the loftiest heights! Who had the greatest vistas! The panorama of the entire university! And beyond!

 

Nothing ill was intended. Our conspiracy theories, our mad guess-work, was merely a product of our paranoia. Of our overactive imaginations.

Weren’t our suspicions were exactly what  you’d expect from near alcoholics. From drunkards. From down-at-heels. From the noises-off crowd. From those who couldn’t see the whole situation. Didn’t understand the threats. Who didn’t have the genius. The vision! Of those higher up! Of the far sighted! Of the true strategists!

What could we see, down in the lowlands, the shameful lowlands. Down in the swamp! In the thickets! In the undergrowth! Who could scarcely see an inch in front of our noses. Who were shortsightedly groping about. Vulnerable to every kind of conspiracy theory. Of arrant speculation. Transient foolishnesses. Travelling madnesses.

We couldn’t understand – how could we? At another level, a higher level, the philosophy to Organisational Management move made perfect sense. The best sense! At their level, with their insight, philosophy could not be moved to anywhere other than Organisational Management. Of course! Perfect! They were playing three dimensional chess. And who were we?

It's an occupational hazard of higher management to be misunderstood by the underlings. A tough job! Thankless! Everyone carping! When really, they should be cheering. Or at least reserving judgement. When really, they should be properly deferential. Allowing that the higher-ups know better than us. Better than we could do.

Things look different on the upper slopes. From the higher slopes. Things look different when you raise yourself to those heights.

A mere philosophy unit … A humble philosophy unit that knows its place shouldn’t have any great say in its future. It’s not for us to judge. To second-guess the decisions of our superiors.

How mad do we need to go? How much madder? How much farther?

 

My God. Stop shouting. I can’t bear your shouting.

We have to shout! We have to match the madness of the times with our madness! There has to be a synchronisation!

Of course, our madness is really a counter-madness. Our madness is really a madness against their madness. Against their delirium. It’s a protective madness, of a sort. It’s a sheltering madness.

We fight their madness with a madness of our own. With mad weapons of our own. We’ll match the hyperbole in reality with our hyperbole in speech!

They would send us mad, but we’ll send ourselves madder. We’ll escape their madness …

 

Sacrifices to be made … Expectations adjusted … That’s what we heard.

Things won’t go on as before. The university has to change. Unexpected things might happen. Fasten your seatbelts. Prepare for turbulence. Choppy waters! Solar storms! Brown outs and black outs! We were warned.

We’ve spent too long in each other’s company. We’ve sent each other mad, that’s the problem. We’re incapable of moderation. But these are the times! Moderation is impossible in our times! Madness has broken out in our times! General madness, in our times! Spreading like a contagion!

You can’t hold it back. Madness has broken its banks. The levees broken. Floodwaters rising! It’s Biblical!

These are times without measure, without proportion. Anything goes.

We’re mad with the madness of our times. We’re delirious – with the delirium of our times.

This is what happens when you implement a new reality. When you rip up the old world. When they’re happy to sacrifice the old world. In the name of the new one!

 

Our madness is an adjustment to the general madness. Our hyperbole is necessary. We talk like maniacs. Of course! We say the wildest things – we need to say the wildest things. Because these are wild times.  

We can’t be calm. Of course not. How could we be calm? They’ve removed all sense of proportion. Of measure. They’re ripping up the old world. They don’t give a fuck about the old world.

 

And there are people who are pretending it isn’t actually happening. That nothing’s going on. The vast majority! Most people are pretending that things are going on exactly as they were before!

These are hyperbolic times. These are careening times. These are train-jumps-the-track-lines times.

It’s never been as wild as this. There’s never been this degree of arrant madness. Obvious madness. There have never been times like these …

I swear it’s accelerating. I swear it’s intensifying. The madness … The mad madness. They don’t even pretend to make sense, that’s the thing. It doesn’t matter than nothing makes sense.

They even celebrate it, knowing that it doesn’t make sense. Unless – this is the scary thing – they think it does make sense.

Whatever next? English moved to Marine Engineering? History to Chemical engineering? Classics to Chemical Engineering? Don’t they see how mad this is?

The true madness is that they don’t.

And now a party! To celebrate it all, apparently. To celebrate the madness.

Now they’re throwing party for the madness. As if that didn’t just add to the madness.

The university in parody. But it doesn’t mind being in parody.

Pull the emergency break. There has to be an emergency break.

 

We might as well shout at the sky. The sky should hear us! We need to raise the alarm! We need to pull the emergency break!

We can’t go on! We can’t take it! Too … much … senselessness … Too … much … madness.

We’re beyond breaking point. We’re actually broken. We’re in pieces. An ocean of madness has broken in and carried us away. We’ve been dispersed on the great wave …

Once Cicero was removed … Once the rock was lifted … What did they see: us. The ones who shouldn’t be here. The aberrants. The ones who weren’t with the programme. Who weren’t careerists. Who weren’t all about the usual things. Once they saw that …

Were we a threat? Laughter. Some threat. But we needed containing. Sure – to be on the safe side. We needed to be … controlled. Just in case.

We’re different in kind to them – that’s what they knew. In species, more or less. We’re not homo academicus. What are? Home prole. Homo useless. Homo aberrant. Homo fuck up. Homo idioticus. Homo not quite.

Different in kind! Different in outlook. In temperament. And no doubt in IQ …

You’re being groomed for leadership, X – after all, you’re Head of Unit now. That’s what Cicero wanted. That’s why Cicero recruited you.

The irony is you’re the least likely of any of us to be a leader. You’re an unleader, X. You’re virtually silent, for one thing. You’re always on the periphery. Always skulking about on the margins. You never want to talk to anyone. You’ll do anything to avoid chit chat or small talk or indeed any talk. You’re never to be found. You show no leadership qualities whatsoever. In fact, the very opposite.

Which means your so-called leadership is a Cicero joke, a Cicero mockery. But hidden inside her jokes was often seriousness. Great seriousness! What are we to learn from you being appointed as leader?

 

You’re the worst leader, X. An underleader. Who leads by following! Who has nothing to say! Who is always writing in his notebook! Ostentatiously longhand. Writing all the time his mysterious Work. What is the Work, anyway? Read to us from your notebook. Edify us! Share some of your wisdom! We need inspiration!

 

You should be a mascot, not a leader, X. How are you going to stand up to the Organisational Managers in your various meetings? How are you going to advance the philosophical cause? Make a case for us? Voice our objections to pretty much everything?

A breath. A gap. The nothing of creation. That’s what the divine was all along. That we must echo in our own nothingness.

The Nothing! Because the system isn’t complete. Because the Man isn’t omnipotent.

A non-power beyond power. A Shattering. A Violence. A beautiful violence.

Where will it come? When will the sky open again? When will we see it?

 

And when it comes? Relief to our eyes. Cooling our eyes. Wetting our dry, dry eyes. And we’ll weep – doubtless. We’ll weep our eyes cool and moist. Our eyes will glisten with our tears. Our cheeks will run with glad tears.

Because the system isn’t complete after all. Because the unmanageable isn’t manageable after all. Because there’s such a thing as a holy anarchy.