“Where then does the table come from?”

Despite the fact that Onuf’s World of Our Making contains an extraordinary amount of information and insight, one word effectively captures its overarching essence: irony. Onuf introduces this literary device early on as he elaborates his position as an author though the word scarcely appears in the text (I think he uses it exactly three times—once on p. 30, twice on p. 156 in footnote 22). Still, irony is on every page. Perhaps I should say ironies. In fact, I’ve identified three. 

 

To begin, it is ironic that Onuf puts forth this text in the hope that it will be “a tentative first step” towards “the construction of a new disciplinary paradigm” (22). Though this book “stands resolutely in the tradition of reasoned persuasion that has dominated Western thought for centuries,” Onuf means to persuade us to adopt his (new?) approach (27). He hopes that the reader “will accept my argument rather than retreat along the many steps so arduously taken,” even though he acknowledges that all books are “artful constructions” (28). This itself is ironic to some degree. I must admit, I accept his argument. What I do not understand is: why is he making it?

 

If a "better" configuration of social relations is inconceivable, why does he want to construct a new disciplinary paradigm? Perhaps this whole thing is meant as an experiment of sorts. Or perhaps it is simply that “[i]dentifying the pervasiveness of asymmetric and exploitive social conditions...does not preclude a personal, liberal commitment to making one’s immediate circumstances less this way” (30). Perhaps he does not believe his own argument. Wouldn’t that be ironic? Maybe he actually believes a more just distribution is possible (see irony #3 identified below). Or perhaps he believes that the improvement comes in convincing the mind to have will over the body (there are inescapable byproducts of the human condition, they are highly unpleasant, people are going to suffer and die, this is inevitable, but art reminds people that suffering is in their minds anyway). Onuf touches on this theme in his discussion of priests (teachers, entertainers, and all those engaged in “selling intellectual fashions or prompting mildly subversive thoughts in young minds” 105). As the Oracle famously told Neo in the widely popular Matrix trilogy: “There is no spoon.” Put differently, we might remember that: In the beginning there was a speech act, it brought suffering, suffering can end completely, a speech act is the way.


Secondly, it is ironic that this book did, in fact, “revolutionize” the discipline. Indeed it did construct a new paradigm. Is Onuf laughing at all of us? Are we dogs chasing our tails (to borrow his metaphoric circularity). Was replacement with constructivist accounts where Realist ones once stood really what Onuf had in mind? Recently I discussed this paradox with a former professor. Regarding this entire enterprise of disciplinary knowledge creation I asked: “Is anything ever new?” He invoked this text, he used the word “revolutionized,” and he was not wrong. Whether he was testing me to see if I saw the irony in his invocation, or if he, himself, failed to see it I’m not sure.

Onuf certainly knows (and, at least ostensibly, hopes) his text will do things in the world. There is such a sense of purpose here. Think of his careful attention to detail. Every single time he makes a reference to an individual, a feminine pronoun is used. This reminds us that “the point of a speech act is to have an effect on some state of affairs” (98). Nonetheless, as purposeful as he is, he ultimately argues that the human condition, necessarily social and mediated by determinate “faculties of experience,” is essentially fixed (certain conditions will arise no matter what we do or how we attempt to control and/ or avoid them). Is it ironic that I just need to know his intent in writing this book?

 

Finally, it is ironic that Onuf leaves no room for divine intervention. Say a flood that will restore balance to the universe. Irony may be the overarching essence, but theological ghosts haunt these many pages. He laces his text with this lingering doubt/ hope. “Everything must be located within the cells of the table. Where then does the table come from?” (Synoptic Table, see preceding page for quote). While he surely states that the table (and religion) are human constructs, we have no reason to rule out (pun intended) the possibility of God. Humans may construct inequality inevitably, but where did humans come from? In this formulation, divine intervention always looms large and inequality may end if we pray more, for example. Real transformation becomes possible.

On transformation Onuf says much in relatively few words, preferring instead to use the structure of the book to illustrate his point. He notes “[b]ecause the first chapter in Part one is a transformation of the last chapter in Part two, they together constitute a hinge connecting the two parts of the book and allowing them to be turned back on, or toward, each other” (28).  He continues with the assertion (borrowed from Piaget, with whom I am unfamiliar) that “all known structures—from mathematical groups to kinship systems—are, without exception, systems of transformation. But transformation need not be a temporal process: 1+1 'make' 2; 3 'follows hard on' 2...[w]ere it not for the idea of transformation, structures would lose all explanatory import” (28). The book is a structure--transformative potential is built right into it. So too are human social interactions structural (1+1 “make” 2). Perhaps this mysterious metaphor implies that God “follows hard on” 2. Consider creation of new life. In this instance, 1+1 actually “makes” 3.   

*Interestingly, Wikipedia tells me that there are three types of irony: verbal, dramatic, and situational (I cite Wikipedia thoughtfully—I will go out on a limb and say that I think Onuf would approve). In my view, World of Our Making engages all three.