Art as activism is subversive, in the sense of providing the audience with the opportunity to entertain the idea of changing the status quo, and it is similar to radical critique. The notion of ‘radical critique’ comes from philosophy: the term has been used by Marx and Horkheimer to stress the fact that the critical knowledge produced by the philosophers (an understanding which is critical, which involves also an unveiling of hidden presuppositions, thus establishing the limitations of a body of knowledge) is never sufficient to change the world; a pragmatic dimension is also needed, usually in the sense of taking some form of action which aims at social and political transformation. An art devoted to ‘radical critique’ is therefore an art that is socially and politically involved, involved with the world and its urgencies, by taking a stand and then feeling and observing the world from this stand. In my case, what is such a viewpoint?
Nowadays it is required from the artist to be involved in identity politics, in negotiations of identity. The artist needs to state their identity and negotiate the relative status of such identity within the art domain, and of course there is always a political agenda behind a statement of identity.
So, who am I? One description would be: a Western, white caucasian, middle-aged, female, straight, rich and highly educated (in terms of education and living standards I oscillate between 7% and 1.5% of the world population). This puts me within the lineage of the European colonists who, equipped with their Cartesian reasoning, are more or less responsible for the bad situation the world is in today and of which I feel accountable for. But I am also my unicity, my body, my experience, my feelings, my thoughts and my beliefs. So I should say that I am an atheist (like roughly 7% of the world population, counting atheists and agnostics altogether) and I definitely ‘lean left’. Being an atheist implies above all that, when it comes to ethics and morality, I lack the grounding foundation of a non questionable set of principles coming to us directly from god; the border drawn between ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ cannot be given, it is always posited, hence it is always human, all too human, and needs to remain open for discussion, revision, improvement, and, above all, needs to be constantly under the scrutiny of a radical critique. ‘Leaning left’ means that I am definitely suspicious of the so-called ‘neoliberalism,’ which I tend to understand in the terms of Pierre Bourdieu: “a wager on the strong, a wager on the rich, to some degree necessarily on those with the good fortune of being rich already, but above all on those with the skill, nerve and luck to make themselves so.” And ultimately the injustices of this world are rooted in an asymmetry of power which requires - for wrongs to be righted - that all the powerless, those whose voices are not heard, those whose rights are not recognised, those who cannot express themselves according to their nature, those who are objectified, must unite in their struggle beyond race, gender, identity, class and even species. In order to counteract the structural violence of the world we live in today and its logic of dominance and exploitation. So, who do I stand up for, and why? There is also the fact that I am an animal, belonging to the species homo sapiens. And when I claim my identity to be the identity of the species, I recognize myself as part of something that massively outscales me, in space-time terms.
At the level of the species, the individual becomes spendable; it is seen for just what it is, a transient, ephemeral, impermanent thing. But also a unique one, irreducible to the generality of the species. There is a lower boundary on the species: if the number of species representatives is below a certain threshold, then there is extinction; but there is also an upper boundary: if the number of species representatives is above a certain threshold, then there is overpopulation, which can also lead to extinction because of exhaustion of environmental resources; hence the need for culling. Reasoning at the level of the species implies also considering interrelations with other species, within a larger ecological view.
To take the stand of the individual, radically embodied, or to take the stand of the species are quite irreducible positions. Occupying both at the same time would require you to deal at the same time with the fact that it is not possible to save every single entity all in one go, but this is exactly what should be done, because any such entity, ephemeral and fragile, and intrinsically finite, is worth preserving in name of its exquisite unicity.
In biology, a species is the basic unit of biological classification and a taxonomic rank. One way of defining what constitutes a species is to say that organisms belong to the same species if they can mate and their offspring will be fertile. Nearly all animals display some form of sexual reproduction and various mechanisms are in place to avoid inbreeding – that is mating with a close relative – because it generally leads to an increased mortality of the offspring due to the expression of harmful traits carried by recessive gene mutations. Outcrossing – that is mating with unrelated or distantly related members of the same species – is generally thought to provide the advantage of masking such deleterious recessive mutations. Some animals, like chimpanzees, have adopted natal dispersal as a biological mechanism to prevent or limit inbreeding. Dispersal is the movement of individuals from their birthplace to other locations for breeding and usually takes place at the time of reproduction.
Given the detrimental effects of inbreeding, it seems then that incest is a more fundamental biological taboo than cannibalism or in-group murder, thus establishing some sort of natural rebuffing of a practice too often accepted within patriarchal systems. Other ways of defining species include similarity of DNA, morphology or ecological niche.
Usually species do not interbreed, but at some point in time the boundaries between related species must have been porous, so that speciation may actually happen. ‘Speciation’ is the scientific term naming the evolutionary process by which populations evolve to become distinct species and such process operates with different modes that depend on the interplay with the environment.
and speciation, populations are physically split at a certain moment in time, and from that moment onwards will follow different evolutionary stories. However, for a certain period of time after the splitting, the members of the separated populations could still interbreed, if they were to come in contact again. Which means that, for a certain period of time, the species of the initial population would actually denote a fluid concept, covering two separated populations that start diverging but are not yet divergent enough to constitute two distinct species.
In and speciation, there is no or only partial geographical separation between the splitting population, which means that the individual representatives of the forming species may come in contact from time to time, and give rise to episodes of . Parapatric speciation in particular, above all in the case of , really seems to illustrate speciation in progress. Overall, speciation implies that species are always ‘on the move’ and that the definition of ‘species’ is more fluid and dynamic than usually thought of.
Though species are separated, they often share the same habitat and therefore give rise to different types of biological interactions among their representatives (which are called interspecific interactions – of course there are also intraspecific interactions, taking place between the individuals of one and the same species). Such interactions can be short-term or long-term and can have important effects on the adaptation and evolution of the species involved. A lot of the long-term interactions between species are based on antagonism () but many are mutualistic and involve cooperation.
. Even though unintentional, mutualism exemplifies a relationship of care between the individuals of different species that are bonded together by the mutualistic interaction. Also among short-terms interactions there are examples of unintentional care between individuals of the same or different species, namely when altruistic biological behaviours are observed.
An interaction between two or more species is called mutualistic if all the species involved gain a net benefit from such interaction. Many examples involve species belonging to different kingdoms, such as plants and fungi engaged in mycorrhizal relationships, or plants and animals engaged in seed dispersal mutualism. And other examples involve different species of animals, both distant and biologically close, such as the cleaning symbiosis between some marine fish or between some birds and mammals; the ants–aphids relation, in which ants offer protection and aphids trade back sugar-rich honeydew; animals grouping together during migration to augment protection from predators; and also the mutualistic interaction between humans and their gut flora for efficient digestion.
Besides mutualistic relations, where all those involved gain benefits, biology offers also examples of altruistic behaviours, that is behaviours by one or more individuals that benefit others at their own loss. , but they exist also within larger social groups, particularly in species with complex social structures. Wolves, wild dogs, gibbons, chimpanzees and vampire bats share their food with others from the group. Mongooses, bonobos and dolphins support and help sick and injured members of their group. And many animals implement ‘guarding strategies’ against predators, where one member of a group stands guard while the others feed or actively intervene when someone is attacked.
This notion of biological altruism is often contrasted with a notion of ‘true’ altruism or psychological altruism, often claimed to be exclusively human. In biology the costs and benefits of altruistic behaviours are calculated in terms of fitness, reproductive fitness more precisely. This means that an organism is said to behave altruistically whenever it reduces the number of offspring it is likely to produce itself, but augments the number that other organisms are likely to produce. When speaking of ‘true’ altruism, instead, an action would be called ‘altruistic’ only if it was entirely selfless and performed with the conscious intention of helping another. In evolutionary terms, it is believed that altruism as a trait has emerged being driven by motives inherently selfish and linked to survival.
Usually within a social context where there is an expectation of a favour to be returned, or motivated by mutually beneficial interests, something like ‘we’re going to do better together than alone’. But on the long run, this may have led to altruistic behaviours that are less and less selfish, because linked to an ability to empathise, understand the internal states of others organisms, understand how they might be feeling, and then thinking of things which might help them.
At the end of the evolutionary line, where we usually put ourselves, maybe being human is just this: being selflessly altruistic and able to extend the notion of care beyond the borders of the family group and of the species: taking care of this one — the other, when it has been abandoned, when it cannot continue on its own, when it is the runt, the unfit, the weak, the hurt, the one left behind to die — and just because it is this one (even though it might not make it, even though it will not have offsprings, even though nature would have condemned it, and even though I put myself at risk for trying to save it.)
Survival of the fittest means that it is the environment that sets the rules. And nature has its own ways of dealing with the weak, the diseased, the elderly, the unfit. But strangely enough, nature has also brought about traits of altruism, care, compassion and empathy which allow some organisms to implement another way, and for sure we humans have the choice. Among others, because we can see the belonging of all living things, hence we can extend and generalise the caretaker perspective, and choose to be selflessly altruistic as much as possible.
This seems to lead to some form of extremism, extreme individualism on the one hand and also extreme altruism on the other hand. Everyone counts because of its individuality, its peculiarity, its unicity. So I will help this one survive, even though just for a little while. And I will help just for the sake of helping, expecting nothing in return, and maybe even against my own odds. At the point that the story seems to become a story of an endless battle against death, of existence fighting non-existence, and presence fighting absence. If this is the case, can we then say that humanity is the same as vulnerability? The same as finitude? Humans like to define animals in terms of lack, but if what counts is the individual, always mortal, it seems that it is the negative part that defines our human side too; the lack, and the potency, the potential. Homo / anthropos truly becomes the earthling, the one who is subordinate. Because above is the sky, above is god. And only god has the attributes of immobility, uniformity, omniscience, perfection (not perfectibility), the one and the same in all of space and all of time, truly eternal, truly immortal — actually, beyond life and death. So being human is really not to be god. And attempting to be god is hybris, and stealing from god is what Prometheus did. At the same time, wanting and striving to keep alive also the one that does not fit, is a sort of rebellion against the species being on the move, and this may seem contradictory, because if you really embrace the idea of the very enlarged ‘we’ (all the living things together within a planetary ecosystem, all under one sky), then you should let go of this impulse of taking care of every single one. Is there a way to reconcile these two views of ethics?
At the end, it comes down to deciding, case by case, whether to go along with nature or to rebel, whether to let die or to make live and whether to let live or to make die. And in any case, staying with the trouble, as Donna Haraway would say. A suggested posture involves vigilance in the face of failure, a call to responsibility, always keeping reminders of shame and failure, but also embracing complicity while aware that there cannot be before hand knowledge of whom the accomplices are going to be.
At the scale of the earth, even more at the scale of the universe, it is clear that it is the whole ecosystem that matters, and most of the individuals become irrelevant. So again we ask: why should we care? In the long run, it does not matter. But even though in the long run it does not matter, in the here and now it could have been otherwise. And maybe this is what is worth showing: the otherwise. And maybe this could be one, if not the most important, role of art: opening the eyes, showing the possibilities. Maybe the function of art is to be alert and to show ‘the otherwise’...