Critical Geographies

[Reuben_R]

CRITICAL GEOGRAPHY WORKING GROUP
MEETING TIME: 4:15PM, THURSDAY, APRIL 10
LOCATION: UNIVERSITY CLUB, 11TH FLOOR OF RUDDER TOWER

Calls for a “critical” approach and praxis are seemingly ubiquitous within recent scholarship in human geography, yet there is little agreement on precisely what a “critical geography” should entail. Some have argued that the very ambiguity of critical geography is one of its chief strengths and that any attempt to define what is “critical” will inevitably result in an exclusionary politics that is antithetical to the inclusive agenda of critical scholarship. For the next meeting of the Texas A&M Critical Geography Working Group, we will change the format of our usual meeting, and instead of reading an entire book, the group will read a sample of recent work on “critical geography.”

Prior to the meeting, group members are strongly encouraged to post their comments on the message board to generate a discussion of the readings centered on the following set of questions: What is critical geography? If there is no single unified critical approach, as some have argued, then does it make more sense to speak of critical geographies in the plural? While precise definitions are hard to come by, how has critical geography been framed in practice? How should critical geography relate to issues of ethics, normativity, and activism both in research and pedagogy? Is there an ethics of critical geography?

As a way of advancing this discussion, two of the group organizers—Reuben Rose-Redwood and Wendy Jepson—will post their initial commentary on the readings and questions above by Monday, March 17. Once these initial commentaries are posted, other group members are welcome to post responses to the commentaries, the readings, and the questions listed above. Comments should be posted before Thursday, April 10, 2008, which is the day of the meeting.

The readings include the following:

Berg, L. (2003), “(Some) Spaces of Critical Geography,” in A. Rogers and H. Viles (eds.), The Student’s Companion to Geography, Oxford: Blackwell, pp. 305-311.
Blomley, N. (2006), “Uncritical Critical Geography?,” Progress in Human Geography 30(1): 87-94.
Blomley, N. (2007), “Critical Geography: Anger and Hope,” Progress in Human Geography 31(1): 53-65.
Crampton, J. and J. Krygier (2006), “Introduction to Critical Cartography,” ACME: An International E-Journal for Critical Geographies 4(1): 11-33.

For those non-geographers seeking a general background to critical geography within the context of geography as a whole, we recommend that you read the following overview piece:

Gibbons, W. (2001), “Critical of What?: Past and Current Issues in Critical Human Geography,” History of Intellectual Culture.

[Reuben_R]

To post a message, just click the "Post Reply" tab above to post your comments. For username, just type in your name. There's no need to create a formal login and password, since guests are allowed to respond to posted messages. Do not click on "NEW TOPIC," but rather "POST REPLY" so that the discussion can remain on the same thread for everyone to read. Reuben Rose-Redwood

[Reuben R]

To ask the question—What is critical geography?—is perhaps the wrong way of opening a productive engagement with the critical geographies of the present, nor will it do to simply characterize critical geography as an uncoordinated, amorphous plurality with no coherent center of gravity. Rather, I would like to suggest that it is more useful to view critical geography as a movement among geographers, other scholars, and activists to forge a broad coalition against exploitation and oppression in its various guises. As with any social or political movement, there are both centripetal and centrifugal forces pulling critical geography in opposing directions. On the one hand, the movement has coalesced into a quasi-institutional form with the establishment of the International Critical Geography Group (ICGG) and the Critical Geography Forum. The ICGG has produced its own manifesto in the form of a “Statement of Purpose” that articulates a shared agenda of political action which is “committed to developing the theory and practice necessary for combating social exploitation and oppression.” The stated purpose of critical geography as a political movement, then, is a commitment to some form of emancipatory social change that seeks to challenge existing systems of social inequality based upon differences of race, gender, sexual orientation, class, etc. (Painter 2000).

If most critical geographers are generally united in their opposition to social injustice, there have been considerable disagreements concerning which theoretical approaches are best suited to a critical praxis (Berg 2002). Even more troubling, as Nicholas Blomley (2006) points out, is the increasingly formulaic quality of much geographical work that sails under the banner of “critical geography.” In this respect, critical geography has fallen victim to its own success. Blomley (2006) suggests, for instance, that “[t]o the extent that critical geography becomes widespread, it is in danger of becoming uncritical.” Yet, this raises a series of questions, which Wendy Gibbons (2001: 2) highlights: “Who decides what is critical? Critical of what? For whom is it critical?” Drawing the boundary line between the “critical” and “uncritical” poses a serious dilemma for critical geographers: How does one promote an inclusionary politics which is itself founded on the bedrock of exclusion—that is, the expulsion of the “uncritical” from the community of “fellow-travelers”? This is not a question of theoretical interest alone but has a direct bearing on the practices of critical geography. If the only ones who attend critical geography conferences, workshops, and reading groups are self-proclaimed “critical geographers,” then the internal differences among critical geographers will likely become increasingly evident. On the other hand, if critical geographers were to engage directly in dialogue with those who do not necessarily share their political commitments, this might have the effect of (1) enhancing the theoretico-political solidarity among a broad coalition of “critical” geographers who may have otherwise not recognized their common agenda, and (2) it may also lead to productive exchanges that require each party to reevaluate their own underlying assumptions, values, and political aims. This dialogical process, I would argue, is essential if critical geography is to remain “critical” not only of the injustices of the world but also of its own critical theories and practices.

Critical geography should not be seen as a closed politico-philosophical system of thought and practice, with a universally-binding set of ethics that guides activist projects and the normativities of teaching and research. As a political movement, critical geography can be thought of as the opening up of a public space, or “forum,” within which the taken-for-granted commonsense geographies of the past and present are contested with the aim of reshaping the future toward more “progressive” ends (Berg 2002). What amounts to “progress,” of course, is highly dependent upon how one problematizes the world—i.e., how one renders the status quo of socio-spatial relations as a “problem” that needs to be overcome—and it is here where the call for “social change” tends to disperse amid the plurality of “critical” viewpoints. Rather than talking in generalities, let’s take a specific example from a recent publication in critical geography. In their overview of the development of “critical cartography,” Jeremy Crampton and John Krygier (2006: 13-4) view top-down, elite-driven cartography as the primary target of critical contestation, with the notion of critique referring to “an examination of the assumptions of a field of knowledge,” not merely for scholastic purposes, but to develop a critical approach that “resists, challenges and sometimes overthrows our categories of thought.” Defined as such—and taking its inspiration from Kant, the Frankfurt School, and Foucault—critical cartography becomes a project of analyzing the politics of spatial epistemologies and ontologies. Or, as Crampton and Krygier (2006: 14) put it, this entails a critical exploration of “the relationship between power and knowledge from a historical perspective.” They argue that it is through a critique of the politics of knowledge, along with the proliferation of new participatory mapping practices, that a series of “emancipatory avenues” arise to vindicate “the promise of critical cartography” (Crampton and Krygier 2006: 25).

Generally speaking, I am in broad agreement with such a project of critically examining the historical connections between geographical knowledge production and power relations (Rose-Redwood 2006a). However, it seems to me that analyzing the politics of knowledge is only one piece of the puzzle, one element of an economy of practices that deserves critical scrutiny. Challenging the authority of technical experts—in this case academic cartographers—is certainly an important strategy of promoting a more collaborative, participatory cartography. Yet, what was the politico-economic context that supported such “powerful elites”? While they draw attention to “the great map houses of the west,” as well as the institutional structures of academia itself, the emphasis seems to come back to the excesses of state power, which should be resisted so that “others [can] make competing and equally powerful claims” (Crampton and Krygier 2006: 12). Again, given the oppressive ends to which state-sponsored mapping has historically been employed, especially within the context of colonial and imperial rule, a critique of such practices is a necessary intervention in the spatial politics of cartographic practices. Nevertheless, I am left with the feeling that such a critique does not go far enough. It seems to bracket questions regarding the political economy of knowledge production. What are the links, in all their specificity, between state power, the politics of knowledge production, and the circuit of capital accumulation? Has not the establishment of private property regimes been one of the primary purposes of state surveying and mapping, along with the more general geopolitical practices of establishing territorial boundaries (Blomley 2003; Pickles 2004)? The point here is not to reduce the politics of knowledge to a crude analysis of economic determination. Yet, surely it will not do to merely subsume economic relations under vague references to “power” without further elaboration. Lacking such an analysis, we are left with what appears to be a liberal critique of state power, but by taking this examination of power/knowledges one step further to consider the political economy of knowledge production, we might end up with a critique of state power and capitalist social relations vis-à-vis cartographic mapping as a technology of power. My aim here is not to pick on Crampton and Krygier (2006) specifically—since I broadly concur with their assessment—but to use this example to illustrate the crucial role that problematization plays in shifting the strategies of critical geography in its pursuit of emanicipatory social change.

I would like to conclude my initial commentary by situating it within the historico-geographic context of its very production, since it is certainly true that “critical geographers are not free from the social and spatial relations that they wish to analyse” (Berg 2002: 308). At first glance, the very existence of a Critical Geography Working Group at Texas A&M University might seem unlikely, given the conservative reputation of the University and its strong support of militarism as an integral component of campus life. I must confess that when speaking with various critical geographers from other institutions, a number of them have gasped in horror at the conservative political environment of A&M and have suggested that any Left-leaning critical geographer would naturally want to “get the hell out of there”! Yet, I would argue that this is precisely what is wrong with the current ethos of critical geography, which, as I understand it at least, appears to be based upon the practice of isolating itself from “uncritical” elements so as to promote a critical agenda of progressive social change. If there are no dialogical exchanges or encounters between critical geography and the many other supposedly “uncritical” traditions of thought and practice, it is unlikely that critical geography will ever have an impact outside of its immediate circle of converts (one exception that immediately comes to mind is Don Mitchell's 2004 speech, "You Who Are the Bureaucrats of Empire, Remember Who You Are," which was presented to an audience taking part in a Department of Defense-sponsored National Security Studies program, see Mitchell 2005). Bringing critical perspectives to the attention of what, by most accounts, is a conservative student body, may actually lead some students to think otherwise, but it also challenges the instructor to self-reflexively evaluate why exactly it is important to be “critical” in the first place … and, just as importantly, how one should go about incorporating critical theory into classroom pedagogy. My own pedagogical approach—which, as a young professor, I am admittedly still perfecting!—is to present students with multiple perspectives to examining a geographic issue, while also outlining the strengths and weaknesses, as well as the politics, of each perspective. In my view, strongly disagreeing with what I take to be an “uncritical” approach—say, positivism—does not warrant a complete dismissal of such an approach in an introductory classroom setting. At the very least, students should be presented with a number of possible epistemologies, ontologies, and methodologies, so that they are prepared to evaluate them on a comparative basis. Of course, as the instructor, I have my own theoretico-political preferences that inevitably have a bearing on how I present the material and structure the class (Rose-Redwood 2006b). However, as a figure of authority (who holds the power of the grade book), I am admittedly wary of forcing my own views upon my students, which is the hallmark of an authoritarian pedagogy. The latter, I would argue, is inherently antithetical to a “critical praxis” as it does not tolerate dissent within its own sphere of authority. If critical geography is to indeed remain "critical," it must support the right of dissent not only against the global powers-that-be but also within the walls of the critical geographer’s classroom itself.

References

Berg, L. (2002), “(Some) Spaces of Critical Geography,” in The Student’s Companion to Geography, A. Roger and H. Viles (Eds.), Oxford: Blackwell, 305-311.

Blomley, N. (2003), “Law, Property, and the Spaces of Violence: The Frontier, the Survey, and the Grid,” Annals of the Association of American Geographers 93(1): 121-141.

————————— (2006), “Uncritical Critical Geography?” Progress in Human Geography 30(1): 87-94.

————————— (2007), “Critical Geography: Anger and Hope,” Progress in Human Geography 31(1): 53-65.

Crampton, J. and J. Krygier (2006), “An Introduction to Critical Cartography,” ACME: An International E-Journal for Critical Geographies 4(1): 11-33.

Critical Geography Forum, <http://www.jiscmail.ac.uk/lists/crit-geog-forum.html>, accessed on March 17, 2008.

Gibbons, W. (2001), “‘Critical of What? Past and Current Issues in Critical Human Geography,” History of Intellectual Culture 1(1): 1-16.

International Critical Geography Group, “Statement of Purpose,” <http://econgeog.misc.hit-u.ac.jp/icgg/Statement_ICGG.html>, accessed on March 17, 2008.

Mitchell, D. (2005), “You Who Are the Bureaucrats of Empire, Remember Who You Are,” Antipode 37(2): 203-207.

Painter, J. (2000), “Critical Human Geography,” in The Dictionary of Human Geography, R.J. Johnston, D. Gregory, G. Pratt, and M. Watts (Eds.), Oxford: Blackwell, 126-128.

Pickles, J. (2004), A History of Spaces: Cartographic Reason, Mapping, and the Geo-Coded World, London: Routledge.

Rose-Redwood, R. (2006a), “Governmentality, Geography, and the Geo-Coded World,” Progress in Human Geography 30(4): 469-486.

————————— (2006b), “Letter to the Editor: Collegiate Classrooms Used to Spur Political Discussions,” The Daily Collegian, January 25, 2006, <http://www.collegian.psu.edu/archive/2006/01/01-25-06tdc/01-25-06dops-letter-04.asp>

[jmsmith]

Critical geographers are no more “critical” than anyone else; nor are they more “opposed to social injustice.” If categories of thought can be “overthrown,” critical geographers are not remarkable for the ruthless energy with which they overthrow them. And where people are, arguably, “exploited” and “oppressed,” critical geographers do not always rush to “emancipate” them, and their politics has no special claim to the term “progressive.”

To be critical is simply to judge. Human life demands judgments, and so is inherently critical. It does not become less critical when its judgments are shared by a majority, or when its judgments are embodied in actions rather than verbally articulated and rationalized. Disapproval of nonconformity is, after all, a critical position, and so is belief that an over-examined life is not worth living. Critical geographers are not distinguished by a critical attitude: they are distinguished, like everyone else, by a critical attitude that approves the things that critical geographers approve, and disapproves the things that critical geographers disapprove.

They are not distinguished by their disapproval of social injustice, since social injustice is by definition something one disapproves. I may, of course, approve an event or arrangement that is unjust, but when I do so it is because I am mistaken about the event, arrangement, or character of justice, not because I approve what I know to be injustice. Critical geographers are not distinguished by opposition to injustice: they are distinguished, like everyone else, by the types of events and arrangements make them angry. They are not alone in their anger, but in the objects of their anger.

Critical geographers are not, so far as I can tell, especially eager to overthrow categories. Some categories, such as “critical,” “just,” “oppression,” “exploitation,” “racism,” and “heteronormativity,” they have surrounded with theoretical bunkers, barbed wire, and land mines. This is understandable, since one cannot think like a critical geographer without these categories. The categories they seek to overthrow are those indispensable to their opponents, say “science,” or “nature,” or “divine,” or “authority.”

To exploit a person or a situation is to excessively profit from some unfair advantage that one enjoys over that person, or in that situation. To charge a hungry man for a meal does not exploit his hunger, but to charge him a thousand dollars does. To oppress a person or a people, a person with power must needlessly deny the legitimate desires of that person or those people. Excessive profits, unfair advantages, needless denials, legitimate needs: all of these are judgments that power has been abused. Critical geographers are not unique in opposing abuse of advantage or power—they are unique in their judgment of what constitutes abuse. Often critical geographers seem to be saying that advantage, profit, and power are themselves abuses, not just things subject to abuse.

Critical geographers are not unique in their attachment to progressive policies, since every policy is intended to progress towards some desirable state of affairs. Socialism is the desirable state of affairs towards which progressive policies favored by critical geographers progress. This is a clear and intelligible political goal, so why not state it clearly? Why does socialist geography hide behind all of these abstractions to which it has no special title? It is partly a tactical decision to ditch the term socialism, which has only limited, partisan appeal, in favor of mom-and-apple pie terms like criticism, justice, and emancipation, which appeal to almost everyone. But it is also to make arbitrary political judgments appear to be necessary deliverances of philosophical reasoning, and thus attempt to place these judgments beyond the reach of criticism.

[jmsmith]

According to Blomley, we can identify the “critical” geographer by where he or she stands. And where he or she stands is always on the side of the underdog, the outsider, and the marginalized. It is not clear, however, whether critical geographers take this stand on the side of the marginalized in the spirit of a pro bono lawyer, who believes that a poor client deserves the best possible defense, even when guilty, or in the belief that underdogs are always right. This is a critical distinction. If critical geographers act in the spirit of a pro bono lawyer, they will understand justice as something that emerges from the exchange of arguments with advocates for “overdogs.” Such exchanges will be vigorous, but advocates on either side will recognize that underdogs are sometimes wrong, and “overdogs” sometimes right. If critical geographers act in the belief that the underdog is always right—at least in objecting to being an underdog—justice will be something that critical geographers and their clients already fully comprehend, and that those who oppose them either misunderstand or don’t care about. If this is the case, then justice is not something critical geographers hope to discover through dialectic exchange, but something they hope to institute after defeat of their enemies.

As Blomley does not discuss justice, I am lead to suppose that the meaning of justice is, to him, perfectly clear. He already knows what it is, where it is absent, and what measures would bring it about. His commitment to justice is not, in other words, the commitment of a pro bono lawyer to engage in a process with an uncertain outcome, but the commitment of planner to bring his vision of the future into being. This is why the project of critical geography is not, as one might have supposed, a matter of reaching a judgment or rendering a verdict. Critical geographers have already reached their verdict—and so are finished with criticism. No, the project described here is a matter of executing a sentence.

The tactics with which the sentence are to be executed are clearly set out by Blomley. First, critical geographers must blur the line between activism and academic research. Second, critical geographers should direct their “scrutiny and activist engagement” toward university administration. Third, they should recruit students to political activism (e.g. “moving [students] beyond mere intellectual understanding of social inequality toward adopting an active role in mitigating social inequality”).

Whether these tactics are reasonable or outrageous depends, of course, on the validity of critical geography’s seeming claim to a priori knowledge of justice. Is there any reason we should accept this claim to moral authority?

[Bob_Wyck]

I found interesting the ways jmsmith took issue with Reuben's assertion that the practices of critical geographers can be characterized by an "opposition to injustice," even if the practices of opposition take different forms. This does not assume an a priori knowledge of justice, because justice does not exist as a object to be known, such that any one could merely be "mistaken about the event, arrangement, or character" of it. Rather, justice exists as a practice, as a way of being between two people, and as a practice it can be observed, and it can be taken away. "Critical" schools of all kinds are concerned with the practice of justice, and how justice is defined, limited, and controlled. Critical Race Theory, for example, arises from a legal theory that argues the maintenance of power rather than the spread of justice is the fundamental principle guiding legal decisions. The practice of critical geographers, then, are to expose the means by which justice has been limited, and how the limitation of justice has led to unequal power relations between subjects created through geography. To perhaps phrase it in the affirmative, critical geography creates a geography that promotes equal power relations.

I agree with Reuben that an inability to agree on the practices that oppose injustice could pose a problem for a field that, in some sense, defines itself based on practice rather than on particular way of thinking. Of course, thinking is practice, but the critical geographer is concerned with how the practice of thinking can be an emancipatory practice rather than merely the replicating practice that is much of academia. The distinction between these practices can be helpfully differentiated with Foucault, who would characterize emancipatory practices as technologies of self and replicating practices as technologies of power. Therefore, critical geography can be an activist practice by exposing relations of power even if it does not seek to actively overthrow them. I would like to believe that the critical geographer maintains that the purpose of intellectual life is the betterment of humanity, and that this betterment begins with an "opposition to injustice."

That said, I agree with jmsmith that there runs the danger of labeling a form of injustice everything one opposes, and that activism can quickly become a politicization of academia that feeds right into the hands of David Horowitz and his ilk. I think both Reuben and jmsmith agree that there can be problems with a pedagogy that too stridently promotes an agenda without allowing space for dissent. On the other hand, however, there are many academic fields that do not allow space for student dissent, and that are political without being activist. Any course that requires a service learning component is implicitly political. For instance, a business class that requires service learning not only reproduces the capitalism as an unquestionable object of knowledge, but ask students to participate in the replication of capitalism. Of course one could argue that an business major already accepts the validity of capitalism, but why should they have to? Can you imagine what would happen if someone offered a Critical Economics class that called for a service learning component.

In jmsmith's underdog/overdog example, the two sides are posited not in relation to one another, but rather in relation to an abstract principle of justice. Of course neither side can appeal an a priori principle of justice that will make them right. But, the underdog can point to an inequality in power, ask why that inequality exists, and suggest redresses to the inequality.

[Jmsmith]

Welcome Bob-Wyck, and thanks for your comments.

I'm not sure that justice is a practice, or that justice can exist as "a way of being" between two people. Justice is a quality that may or may not be present in a practice, exchange, or relationship. If I praise a student for a paper that I know is substandard, wouldn't you say that the practice in question is commenting on a student's paper, and that the practice is in this instance unjust? If in selling you a used car, I admit that the transmission is about to go, I'd say the practice is selling a car. I know we might say, "I am in the practice of truth telling," or "I am in the practice of fair dealing," but I don't think this sort of Aristotelian virtue-formation is what critical geographers mean by practice. Are there inherently unjust practices? One thinks of murder, but that is probably tautological, since murder is defined as unjust killing. I have a list of practices I'd call inherently unjust, unjust under any circumstances--but it is very short.

I think you're comments on scope for student dissent are too latitudinarian. Registration in a class, a major, or the university itself implies assent to certain basic propositions. One can dissent from these propositions, but only by withdrawing from the class, major, or university. It is analogous to religious dissenters, who at some point must leave the church they find so very objectionable. Students should understand that dissent is not always available to them; they can't opt out of beliefs in an ad hoc fashion, simply because they do not want to. They are, for instance, committed to beliefs entailed in their binding commitments.

The underdog can, as you say, ask why an inequality of power exists, but this question will not necessarily expose injustice. Critical geography often appears to think that it will. Is it unjust, say, that Nick Blomley has more power in critical geography than some graduate student, or than those critical geography professors who were passed over when it was time to choose an author for the critical geography articles in Progress in Human Geography?. I doubt it. And those who ask , Why don't I have the power that Blomley does to pronounce on these matters? must be prepared for the answer that this is justice. Nick has worked for this privilege, and you have not (not you, but my hypothetical griper). What do you think.




[i]

[tm]

Questions of justice slightly aside for the moment, I would like to return to a broader discussion (and caveated defense) of critical geography, more generally. Clearly, there are difficulties in definition (the reluctance to define, given its exclusionary imperative as Berg, amongst others, point out, is undoubtedly an issue) and enough inconsistencies, contradictions, and shameless posturing amongst self-styled practitioners to negate even my profound sympathies for critical geographies. Yet it was and is through “critical” studies (to which geography itself came relatively late) - those that rigorously and trenchantly work to debunk the “there is no alternative” guise of under/development, technology, “the” market, etc. - that I continually find motivation and inspiration. Anglo-American critical geographies are but one approach (and a terribly minor one) to historicize, contextualize, and otherwise grasp contingencies and potential alternatives.

As for bob_wyck’s speculation as to what might happen if a “Critical Economics” class were to offer a service learning component, the Economics Department at The University of Notre Dame is illustrative. To “accommodate” the “critical” activities of heterodox economics faculty, the department has split in two: Economics & Econometrics on the neoclassical (and well-funded, future-is-bright) side and Economics & Policy Studies for those whose work questions the epistemological and ontological bases of mainstream (neoclassical and Keynesian) economics (see link below). While jmsmith suggests that “registration in a class, major, or the university itself implies assent to certain basic propositions” I can only ask – why??! I strongly disagree with this status quo sentiment and suggest that this statement itself illustrates the very need for more critical (geographies or economics or ?)! As someone interested in “economics” why must I be relegated to “economic geography” (with all the hardships this positioning entails - the injustice!) because I aim to question the self-styled logics of free market capitalism? [/url]http://chronicle.com/free/v49/i20/20a01201.htm[/url]

[Reuben]

In his commentary, Jonathan maintains that “to be critical is simply to judge.” Since we all make judgments, so the argument goes, we are therefore all “critical.” Thus, he contends that critical geographers are not unique, since everyone who makes judgments acts in a critical manner. By defining our terms in such a broad fashion, critique loses its critical edge. To judge, for instance, that women were “unfit” to officially attend Texas A&M University—as well as many other universities across the United States—prior to the 1960s, would qualify as a “critical” act according to this criterion. Indeed, to rob and murder someone, to invade and occupy a country, to exploit and oppress an entire people would constitute a “critical praxis” according to this logic . . . so long as those doing the murdering, invading, occupying, exploiting, and oppressing were making judgments that were “embodied” in such actions. This reduction of the critical to the making-of-judgments seems to hollow out the concept to such an extent that it becomes an empty signifier—referring to every conceivable theory and practice that is based on the act of judgment. What a clever philosophical strategy to dull the edge of a critical geography attempting to challenge the unequal social and economic power structures that bend the rules of justice to their own advantage! What a tolerant, or shall we say latitudinarian, way of defining the critical!

And, as for the injustices of exploitation and oppression, is not the current global economic and geopolitical system principally based upon the accumulation of “excessive profits, unfair advantages, [and] needless denials [of] legitimate needs”? If that is our criterion for defining oppression—and it seems reasonable to me as a working definition—then critical geography is characterized by the problematizing of these hegemonic practices, in contrast to those who legitimate the excessive profits, unfair advantages, and denial of the legitimate needs of millions so that a small elite may reap the benefits of luxury, comfort, and security in their gated communities. And, yes, I would argue that “advantage, profit, and power are themselves abuses” when they are attained at the price of devastating social and economic inequalities, the subversion and co-optation of the democratic will of the people (what ever happened to Allende or Arbenz?), the imposition of neoliberal capitalist “adjustment” programs, and the neo-imperialist occupation of resource-rich areas all in the name of freedom and justice.

Is critical geography reducible to socialism, as Jonathan suggests? I think that this considerably underestimates the multiplicity of approaches to critical geography that are currently being practiced. Some critical geographers are committed to the project of distributive justice, based upon a critique of unequal social and economic outcomes, which is informed by Marx’s critique of capitalism (although there is also the Rawlsian version of this as well). On the other hand, there are others who focus more on inequalities based on gender, race, sexual orientation, etc. In some cases, the latter projects are linked to a Marxian critique of class relations under capitalism, yet this is by no means always the case. I recall speaking to a critical geographer studying gay identities who readily accepted that New Deal programs—such as Social Security—should be privatized. Critical of the marginalization of gays and lesbians, yes; critical of neoliberal privatization, no. Certainly, there are others working in queer studies that are critical of neoliberal privatization and the marginalization of the gay community, which is why I emphasized the Foucauldian notion of “problematization” as a key concept to better understand calls for progressive social change (although Foucault himself was quite skeptical of emancipatory projects, which is perhaps what distinguishes him from critical theorists such as Habermas). The original example I used was Crampton and Krygier’s presentation of critical cartography. If you read their paper carefully, they make very little reference to challenging capitalist social relations—as their main critique is targeted at state power and the authority of technical expertise. Can their project of critical cartography be reduced to a call for socialism? Not by a long shot. So, the equation: critical geography = socialism, doesn’t do justice to the contested terrain of contemporary critical geography.

Correct me if I am wrong, but it appears that Jonathan is working with a procedural conception of justice, which is based upon the adherence and conformity to established rules and protocols. While critical geographers are not necessarily opposed to procedural justice, they also emphasize the importance of the distributive justice of egalitarian outcomes as well. This seems to strike at the center of this debate, at least the way it is unfolding in our message board discussion thus far. Perhaps it is worth thinking through these distinctions in a bit more detail. I’ll reply to Bob and Tina’s comments after uploading the current posting.

[Reuben]

Bob_Wyck’s argument that critical geography should be based upon an agenda that “promotes equal power relations” is clearly coming out of a distributive notion of justice that is also based upon viewing justice as a relational practice rather than a quality that practices acquire through conformity to authoritative procedures. As he points out, it is worth making a distinction between the rulings of the legal system of sovereign power, on the one hand, and the practices of social justice on the other hand. This is the basis of the longstanding tradition of civil disobedience, which is based upon the argument that when the sovereign’s law is perceived as illegitimate, it is perfectly “just” to disobey sovereign authority through various acts of nonconformity and resistance.

Bob and Tina raise a good point about the pedagogies of economics and business, which portray themselves as the Almighty Truth, while commonly dismissing dissenting traditions of economic thought as unredeemably ideological—with perhaps rare exceptions of peaceful (?) co-existence as in the case of Notre Dame. In her provocative new book, The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism (2007), Naomi Klein provides a devastating critique of the authoritarian pedagogies of the famous Chicago School of Economics, which gave rise to the neoliberal project of free-market fundamentalism under anti-democratic regimes such as that of Pinochet in Chile. Chicago School economics professors were very much of the belief that they should “inculcate” free-market doctrine into their students as an unquestionable dogma rather than as a “debatable hypothesis” (Klein, 2007: 50). Now, some critical geographers might say, “hey, if the free-marketeers are indoctrinating their students with capitalist ideology, why can’t I try to indoctrinate my students with egalitarian philosophies of distributive justice?” Yet, I would argue that a great deal of caution is required here. If we go down that road—counteracting free-market indoctrination with socialist or “critical” indoctrination—we as critical scholars will be guilty of the very same authoritarian tactics as those we criticize. As I argued in my first commentary, I think it is crucial to use the space of the classroom as a forum to debate the critical issues of our time, not as a space of blind indoctrination. This does not necessarily mean that professors must suppress their own political views, but rather that they should not penalize their students for holding dissenting views so long as they attempt to back up their views with compelling arguments and evidence. In this respect, when a student enrolls in a university, Tina is correct to argue that the student has every right to challenge the university’s policies if they believe that those policies are unjust. If such dissent is not possible, this is a recipe for abolishing student government altogether! If the only available act of dissent is “withdrawing from the class, major, or university,” then we are in serious danger of constructing an authoritarian system that does not tolerate open democratic debate but rather suppresses any challenge to the status quo. A commitment to egalitarian democratic principles—as opposed to the sham-democracy which the Bush Adminstration is peddling to the world—seems to be the best armor currently available against capitalist, socialist, and religious authoritarianisms, which makes it all the more troubling that the ICGG’s “Statement of Purpose” makes no mention whatsoever of democracy. Would critical geographers accept an authoritarianism to implement their egalitarian plans? I certainly hope not. There is a brief mention of “human rights” in the Statement, yet the question of the relation between socialism and democracy remains unexplored. How are we to theorize the notion of human rights from a critical-geographic perspective?

[jmsmith]

It appears that no one is prepared to accept my assertion that there is a limit to the dissent a social institution must tolerate, so I'll hold you to your convictions and dissent a while longer. Social institutions are organized around a purpose, and their members are, presumably, united in their desire to accomplish that purpose. They may, of course, argue about appropriate means, and even at times consider whether the purpose is a good one. A club of fishermen is, for instance, founded so its members can go fishing. They will, no doubt, debate what fish they will fish for, and where, and when, and under what rules of sportsmanship. And they may, indeed, after a few bourbons around the campfire, consider the proposition that fishing is a waste of time. If the dissenter making this argument is persuasive, and the club accepts his judgment that fishing is for fools, the club must either disband, or take up a new purpose. It will become a bowling team, say, or a terrorist cell. In any case, it ceases to be a fishing club. If, however, having considered the arguments against fishing, the members persist in their liking for the sport, the critical fisherman should, presumably, withdraw from the club. This is not only because he will have become a pest, but because being a pest is irrational. A pest is, after all, a person under the delusion that arguments that have failed in the past will succeed in the future.

Of course the state must be far more tolerant than a fishing club. It must permit failed arguments to be made so long as someone feels a need to make them. But the state is itself an institution with a purpose. The liberal state has the purpose of permitting citizens to pursue and argue for whatever good they please, be it fishing, bowling, or bourbon drinking. It does not, however, have to tolerate dissent from this accommodating agenda. States no less than fishing clubs and bowling teams are right to treat their enemies as enemies. Can a class, course of study, or university have enemies? Certainly they can. Do their enemies have cause to complain when they are not treated as friends. Not unless we let them.

Reuben, I am not attempting to "hollow out" the word "critical." I am attempting to restore it to its proper place as a word that is generally available. Sexually segregated higher education certainly embodies a critical judgment--the judgment that men and women require different courses of study and learn more when undistracted by heterosexual desire. You may consider this a poor judgment, even a vile judgment. But poor judgments are judgments. That's why we call them poor judgments. This is really the same objection that was raised when the logical positivists hijacked words like rationality, science, and knowledge.

My understanding of justice is not quite what is meant by "procedural justice," but what Reuben says about distributive justice confirms my suspicion that critical geographers believe that they know, a priori, what justice looks like. This allows them to talk through their hats about excessive profits, unfair advantages, needless denials. I, for one, do not know how much profit is excessive. Do you? Or is there just some point where your gorge begins to rise and you feel that "that's enough."?

[Reuben]

On Thursday, April 10, 2008, we held the third formal meeting of the Critical Geography Working Group at Texas A&M University. Those in attendance included:

Wendy Jepson
Kathleen O’Reilly
Reuben Rose-Redwood
Jonathan Smith
Bob Wyckoff

The conversation covered various topics related to critical geography in general, and many of the specific points raised in the message board prior to the meeting. Below is a selective list of some of the questions raised at the meeting:

- Should we make a distinction between the academic discourse on critical geography, on the one hand, and the critical geographies produced by non-academic activist communities on the other? Or, is this binary opposition of the academic/non-academic too rigidly defined?

- Should critical geographic “fieldwork” be driven by the critical geographer’s preconceived theories of critical praxis or should the researcher allow the agenda to be set—at least in part—by the community itself through a participatory methodological approach? The latter view is based upon the notion of the “co-production” of knowledge and perhaps a more “humble” sense of the uncertainties and fallibilities of critical knowledge production and practice. A key question raised concerning this latter point, however, is the extent to which the researcher must embrace the agenda of the community. Another issue involves the normativity of choosing a community with which to engage in participatory research.

- Related to such questions was the issue of certainty/skepticism with respect to the confidence that critical geographers have in their own critical theories of the world. Does politico-epistemological certainty result in an arrogant approach to geographical research, or is political ambivalence a debilitating force for critical praxis? Within the context of this discussion, David Harvey’s comparison of religious conviction with postmodern perplexity in Justice, Nature, and the Geography of Difference, was considered as a supportive argument for the latter view, yet not everyone agreed with this argument.

- Regarding pedagogy, we discussed the extent to which professors should instill a sense of hope that “anything is possible,” even if it is nevertheless true that “some things are more possible than others.” Where should we draw the line between the need for idealism and that of realism?

- It is no surprise that we did not come to a consensus as a group as to what a critical perspective should entail. Yet, some important questions were considered: What is the main objective of critical geography, challenging the status quo of academic geographical scholarship or the status quo of socio-spatial relations more generally? Are all judgments “critical” simply because they take a normative stand, or are some judgments more critical than others? If the latter is the case, what makes some judgments more critical than others?

- Do critical judgments require conscious intentionality or can they be “embodied” in actions?

The questions above only provide a rough sketch of some of the issues we considered at the meeting, and if other group members recall other points, feel free to post them on this message board. Below I would like to shift my remaining comments to a consideration of Jonathan’s last posting on the message board.

There is little disagreement that denying women admissions to public universities is a judgment (we could likewise agree that systematically denying African Americans and other minorities basic civil rights was also based upon normative judgments). The question is not whether poor judgments are, in fact, judgments. The question is whether all judgments should be seen as critical judgments. I have argued that if the answer is yes, as Jonathan suggests, then this renders the notion of the “critical” inert, empty, and hollowed out with little substance left.

What are we to make of the claim that “critical geographers believe that they know, a priori, what justice looks like”? Again, such a statement obfuscates the divergent normative frameworks within critical geography. It is worth emphasizing this point: there is no one unified critical geographic approach or normative framework that transcends historical and geographic context. It is not so much a matter of knowing, once and for all, “what justice looks like”—as if justice were a visible object that could be clearly delineated, demarcated, and photographed for posterity. Justice is not a fish that we catch if we follow the rules of sportsmanship over bourbons; rather, it is through the struggle over competing conceptions of justice that normative positions are articulated—often very imperfectly. Justice is not some abstract ideal, as Plato would have us believe, but is rather a matter of making normative commitments within specific historico-geographic circumstances that require us to “take a stand” on normative questions of social action and reflection. This is a very different claim from that of knowing what justice looks like a priori. It is a conception of justice based upon a recognition of the contingency of normative claims, which is nevertheless willing to commit to a normative position while remaining open to counter-arguments, contradictions, and reformulations.

Profit: is there a threshold between excessive and non-excessive profit? Perhaps this is the wrong question to ask. Are there no other ways of framing the question at hand? If one individual’s profit is acquired through the exploitation of another’s labor, then is it solely a matter of the quantity of profits accumulated? Is the global economic system not based on unfair advantages privileging those who write the rules of the game? Why must the president of the World Bank always be an American? And that of the IMF be a European? Why must poorer countries be forced by these global institutions to cut agricultural subsidies, when the United States and the EU continue to subsidize their farmers? Does this, and other unfair trade practices, not result in the needless denial of basic needs for millions? If distributive notions of justice are inadequate, then what normativities should take their place? Are hierarchies that reinforce unequal social, economic, and political relations desirable? Such a normative claim seems to me to be a justification for reinforcing the status quo of power relations. Is there no limit to the inequalities that are acceptable? Reducing this to a philosophical quandary, as opposed to a pressing political question, loses sight of the broader social implications of the ever-increasing inequalities and asymmetrical power relations. While the powerful may benefit tremendously from the status quo—and all the normative judgments that prop it up—they should remember that the many who suffer under its weight will develop their own conceptions of justice that challenge existing power relations.

[jmsmith]

I agree with Reuben that the phrase "critical geography" renders the word critical hollow. This is because the phrase is redundant, like irate anger or saccharine sweetness. But this is not my fault. I oppose use of the term “critical” as an adjective distinguishing a particular class of judgments. I believe critical and judgment should be treated as synonyms. And I agree that when synonyms are juxtaposed in a sentence, one will be hollowed out and rendered redundant.

If justice is a matter of “making normative commitments” and then embarking on a struggle, then it becomes a simple matter of power. The “stand” or normative commitment that happens to accrue the most votes or battalions wins. And then, whatever is is right. This is not a position from which to condemn the status quo.

Treating the question of excessive profits as a “philosophical quandary” rather than a “pressing political question” does indeed delay action. So does treating medical diagnosis as a time-consuming scientific question rather than as bureaucratic red tape that delays surgery. Excess profits and exploitation are wrong by definition. All good people condemn them. How they are to be identified, and whether they are indeed the cause of the evils Reuben lists, these are nevertheless philosophical quandaries. Much of this misery results from the fact that, in these countries, low rates of profit result in low rates of capital investment. Thus, far from exploiting these people, the global economy is hardly making use of them.

[Reuben]

The debate over what it means to be "critical" goes to the very heart of the project of a critical human geography. It is through wrestling with our answer to this question that the discourse on critical geographies, as well as our political and ethical assumptions, are formulated and articulated. I think it is worth emphasizing that the framing of what constitutes the "critical" is itself a political judgment that is historically and geographically contingent. It is for this reason that a definitive conception of the "critical" is so elusive. My argument is not that the concept of "critical geography" is itself inherently hollow, but rather that it is rendered hollow if we reduce the "critical" to the making of judgments alone. I understand Jonathan's unease with this formulation and the use of "critical" to distinguish "a particular class of judgments," yet I nevertheless cannot bring myself to the conclusion that all judgments are equally critical simply due to the fact that they are normative judgments. I would argue that this claim is, first and foremost, a political issue rather than a philosophical quandary. Again, it is worth going back to Wendy Gibbons' questions: "Critical of what? For whom is it critical?" Rather than offering a universal statement of the meaning of the critical, we should continue to pose these questions: What should a critical geography be critical of? And, for whom is it critical that we continue to produce critical geographies? The answers to these questions are not static but will change with historico-geographic circumstances. Lastly, the "might makes right" argument is an easy target to shoot down, as Socrates (Plato) dismissed Thrasymachus' arguments long ago. Yet, Plato's quest for a universal set of ideals and values that transcend space and time has also been dealt a fatal blow by anti-foundationalist critiques. The point I would make here is not so much that the powerful get to decide what is "right" but rather that determining what is right and just is a product of social struggle--yet this does not necessarily mean that whoever "wins" the battle has justice on their side.