Aesthetic Politics: Iranian Performance and the Challenge of Modernity

[Image from Amir Baradaran, \"Marry Me to the End of Love.\" Image via the author.] [Image from Amir Baradaran, \"Marry Me to the End of Love.\" Image via the author.]

Aesthetic Politics: Iranian Performance and the Challenge of Modernity

By : Abdullah Awad

Amir Baradaran, Marry Me to the End of Love. Cite internationale des Artes, Paris, France, 23-30 June 2012. Curated by Feri Daftari.

 

Not often is a performance as variegated in its political significance or as generous to critical exposition as Amir Baradaran`s recent interactive piece, Marry Me to the End of Love. Inserting itself into current debates surrounding the politics of marriage and Islam in relation to Western modernity, as well as the origin and viability of aesthetic politics, the performance allows us to consider art not merely in its capacity to engage political debate, but also in its capacity to reconfigure the very terms on which such debate is premised.

Queering Marriage

At the Cite interntionale des Arts in Paris in June, Baradaran performed multiple short-term marriages with as many willing participants as possible, doing so according to the Shi`a notion of Mut’ah, or marriage for pleasure. Mut’ah, unlike traditional marriage, is both terminal and premised exclusively on the derivation of pleasure. At the outset, Baradaran`s proposal to publicly perform Mut’ah intensifies those elements of Mut’ah that oppose traditional marriage. As he enters multiple short-term relationships under the sign of "marriage," he divorces the expression from its restrictive content, which commands non-terminal heterosexual monogamy and collapses or excludes desires that do not readily fit its accepted teleology. As a result, the expression "marriage" loses its prescriptive force, ceasing to command anything in particular. As such, Baradaran challenges not only marriage understood as an institution for heterosexuals, but also so-called progressive movements calling for "gay marriage."

Those movements, Baradaran and others argue, only work within the terms of heteronormativity in offering recognition to homosexual desire, leaving unchallenged the imbrications of monogamy and non-terminality with a specifically heterosexual history. President Obama`s endorsement of gay marriage earlier this year is a telling example. His endorsement was articulated to the particularly heteronormative attributes of those homosexuals around him, explaining his decision by citing “members of my own staff who are in incredibly committed monogamous relationships, same-sex relationships, who are raising kids together.” As such, Obama indicates that difference in sexual orientation is endorsable only when collapsed into the terms of heteronomartive marriage, delegitimizing other existing or potential forms of coupling by denying them the possibility of legal recognition.

Thus, propelled by questions similar in tone to those that first animated queer theory, Baradaran`s performance asks: What new forms of attachment, belonging, and kinship can we conceive, and consequently make legible socially and legally, that reside outside of marriage and its particular history? How does such conceptualization extend social and legal recognition to those who are not accommodated by, or those who suffer at the expense of, traditional marriage configurations? 

Resistance in the Multiplication of Pleasure

Baradaran proposes another challenge to normative forms of coupling, applying less to marriage in particular than to dominant distributions of pleasure across the body. In his performance, the multiple short-term marriages codify "pleasure" differently each time, focusing on sites of the body from which pleasure is not usually derived or understood as derivable; in some marriages, for instance, he simply touches elbows with a partner. While largely symbolic, rendering those acts as "pleasurable" according to Mut’ah destabilizes the centrality of genitalia to normative taxonomies of what counts and does not count as pleasurable.

More specifically, such destabilization entirely elides the reproductive capacity attributed to the act that monopolizes legitimate pleasure in the modern regime of sexuality (and to which conservatives take recourse in arguing for the "sanctity" of marriage): heterosexual coitus. Such elision reveals the potential for the non-genital zones of the body to serve as sites from which pleasure may be derived in ways that accommodate those for whom normative taxonomies, as well as their effects on social and legal recognition, are injurious. Following Michel Foucault`s project in The History of Sexuality, parts of which trace means of cultivating new bodily pleasures that resist normative taxonomies in favor of singular and local ones, Baradaran does not pre-determine what forms of pleasure are to be derived from each marriage, allowing each marriage to produce its own forms. In so doing, he not only subsumes the zones of the body otherwise rendered only partially sexual, such as the lips—what Freud termed erotogenic zones—but also comes to symbolically include the potential for any bodily zone to serve as a site for pleasure. Furthermore, extending the same Foucauldian gesture to the realm of his participants, Baradaran does not pre-determine with whom a marriage is possible, entering marriages "with participants of all genders, ages, and orientations."

Creative Destruction

The multiplication of pleasure takes an additional political significance when understood as positioned within the structures of neoliberalism that work towards reducing pleasure to a correlative exchange value. In symbolically proposing the non-genital and, in some cases, non-erotogenic zones of the body as sites of pleasure, Baradaran unsubscribes from certain models of consumption premised on the derivation of pleasure exclusively from those genital and erotogenic zones on which capitalist forces are dependent for profit, thereby suspending the function of those models within the locale of his performance.

Historically, however, the political significance of such unsubscription is temporally confined; as unsubscribing produces new pleasures that resist market assimilation, it may also be understood as paving the way for capitalist forces to extract value from those new pleasures in the future, thereby opening up more for capitalism to territorialize. An example is the burgeoning of a "niche" pornography industry catered towards statistically marginal pleasures. It would remain inconclusive how and to what degree each newly produced pleasure is territorializable, assimilable, or reducible to an exchange value. Perhaps it is from such uncertainty that we may derive an anti-capitalist ethic, if we understand that, as each newly produced pleasure momentarily suspends the flow of capital, it jeopardizes capital’s ability to overcome its suspension.

As the conservative political scientist Joseph Schumpeter argued in influential works from the 1940s such as Capitalism, Socialism, and Democracy, capitalist economic development is premised on the devaluing and destruction of any presently operative economic order, which allows for the creation of a new order better suited for exponentially higher profit gain. While each successful cycle of “creative destruction” has historically enlarged the spatial boundaries and compressed the temporal turnover durations on which capitalism is dependent for expansion, Schumpeter cautioned that each cycle also has the potential to indefinitely replace capitalist structures with alternative ones in the vulnerable moment when capitalist structures are being destroyed. (Indeed, despite the argument`s tension with his political commitments, Schumpeter argued that creative destruction would have social democracy replace capitalism before the end of the twentieth century.)

Following Schumpeter, we may re-articulate the term “creative” to conceptualize and create structures that resist, rather than aid, the structures of capitalism when the latter are most vulnerable. In the case of Baradaran’s performance, the multiplication of singular, presently inassimilable pleasures as it momentarily suspends the flow of capital also multiplies the amount and variety of the raw material that may work towards the creation of alternative structures that undertake such resistance. This is a strategy of "re-articulation" that social theorists like David Harvey and artists like Matthew Buckingham have begun thinking about in light of the recent financial crisis.

The Others of Empire

Bodily pleasure, as it partakes in the economic facet of power, also links the politics of sexuality to the makeup of the modern nation-state. In light of Baradaran`s racial background, such links are amplified. The institution of marriage, with its premise in a particular regime of sexuality, figures historically in the consolidation of the modern nation-state. President Obama`s endorsement of gay marriage, again, is telling. In addition to citing heteronormative couples as a reason for his endorsement, Obama cites and promotes the patriotism of “those [homosexual] soldiers or airmen or marines or sailors who are out there fighting on my behalf.” Significantly, those wars being fought by patriotic homosexuals on Obama’s behalf have led to the economic, social, and political ruin of Afghanistan and Iraq, where civilian casualties number in the millions.

As Jasbir Puar has argued in Terrorist Assemblages, the incorporation of homosexuals into the modern nation-state as patriots renders them no longer queer, where queerness is originally understood as that which challenges the stability of Western self-identity, and, as a result, another queer is produced. Throughout the twentieth century, the non-reproductive homosexual was perceived as challenging the stability of heterosexuality and the nuclear family, both of which consolidated the modern nation-state. This was especially true during the deadly AIDS epidemic, when homosexuality was further perceived as challenging life itself, or the life of the (st)able consuming citizen integral to sustaining, among the other facets of Western self-identity, the flow of capital. At the close of the century, as homosexuals called for social and legal rights according to heteronormative terms, including the right to marriage, and received some of those rights, as well as roles to consolidate the modern nation-state (the most recent example of which is the repeal of “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell”), they ceased to be queer in the original sense of the term. (To be sure, however, there remain homosexuals in the Western world who are not assimilable in heteronormative terms, often because of their racial and/or gender queerness.)

As homosexuals became part of, rather than a threat to, Western self-identity, another queer was produced based on the new perceived threat to Western self-identity: the terrorist body. This resulted, more specifically, in the queering of Middle Eastern and South Asian bodies, which became perceived as terroristic; as sexually, psychologically, and corporeally perverse; and as deserving of death. As a result, those Middle Eastern and South Asian bodies became susceptible to otherwise irrational, unjustified, and excessive forms of discrimination, violence, and killing. This is in addition, as Judith Butler has demonstrated, to an astronomically lower standard for determining whether their lives are grievable. Furthermore, once the category of homosexual was incorporated into the modern nation-state, homosexuality, as the specifically Western codification of same-sex practices and relations, became a marker of modernity. The link between modernity and Western homosexuality thus produced, and indeed continues to produce, entire non-Western populations as homophobic and pre-modern—populations in which same-sex practices and relations are codified differently. Those populations, often constituted by the queered Middle Eastern and South Asian bodies, also became susceptible to Western military intervention, occupation, and violence—all under the guises of "modernization" and "democratization," which justify, as Puar has shown, American imperialism and exceptionalism, or, in the case of Israel, settler-colonialism.

In relation to this history, Baradaran`s body is rendered impossible. Originally from Iran, Baradaran is racially queer, resembling the queered terrorist body against which the West has declared war. Yet Baradaran is also sexually queer, as someone whose sexual practices and relations are codified, at least in New York where he is based, in terms of homosexuality. Falling into both the categories of old queer and new queer, his body reveals the hypocrisy, if not the impossibility, of the Western project that seeks to simultaneously include the homosexual into folds of life and exclude the terrorist body. It asks, as the homonationalism it confronts trembles: What happens when a body is to be both included and excluded, saved and destroyed? When staged as an aesthetic event in a Western capital, Baradaran`s body only intensifies the trembling, finally erupting the terms by which it is otherwise rendered impossible, as it erects new terms and possibilities.

(Non-)Imperial Critique

The imperial division by Western powers of Middle Eastern and South Asian territories into nation-states, as well as the neo-imperial imposition of the Western nuclear family in those nation-states, extends the reach of Baradaran`s critique to those contexts. Yet, in addition to being critiqued for their unwitting imbrication with a modern regime of sexuality, those contexts, especially Shi`a majority countries such as Iran, have another relation to the performance. After all, Mut’ah marriage is derived from Shi`ism. While mostly prohibited today by Sunni Muslims and controversial in some Shi`a communities, it was legally promoted several times throughout the past twenty years in predominantly Shi`a countries such as Iran. Indeed, some Iranian officials, including former President Hashemi Rafsanjani, have accepted it as a solution to social problems resulting from so-called excessive sexual desire.  

Such promotions resonate with one of the founding reasons for Mut’ah in Islam before the division between Sunnism and Shi`ism, when many of the Prophet`s companions (whose example is revered by Sunni Muslims today) practiced such marriages: it was argued that, in certain circumstances, traditional marriage of the non-terminal, monogamous type does not fully accommodate the consummation of sexual desires, and thus rather than have unaccommodated desires consummated through prohibited pre- or extra-marital sexual relations, those desires were given social and legal recognition when Mut’ah was allowed by the Prophet, and later inscribed into the structure of Shi’a law. As such, Baradaran`s performance critiques contemporary social and legal orders (including those dealing with marriage) in Shi`a majority Iran, as it derives its critique from within Shi`ism.

While much so-called critique of Sunni or Shi`a Islam, as it originates from the West, is racist, Islamophobic, and/or premised on the furthering of camouflaged economic and political interests, Baradaran`s performance seeks to bring into public consciousness Muslim practices that have been forgotten, bracketed or repressed—in some cases, precisely because of (the internalization of) Western modernity and critique. In doing so, he not only accentuates the presence of those practices (which are often rendered "pre-modern" by the West), thus resisting the imperial effects of forgetting, bracketing, and repressing, but also finds in those practices a certain value, one that allows, on the basis of a more accommodating ethic, for the reconfiguration of presently operative social and legal orders.

Aesthetic Politics

Rather than simply conceptualizing reconfiguration, Baradaran`s performance partakes in reconfiguration itself. To borrow from Jacques Ranciere’s lexicon, it joins an aesthetic regime of art interested in altering rather than representing social and legal orders. It thus opposes the representative regime of art that has dominated art history. That regime, with its premise in Aristotelian mimesis, represents, without changing, presently operative and often inegalitarian social and legal orders, taking recourse to spectator passivity and rigid genre conventions. Understood as part of the aesthetic regime, Baradaran’s performance, as it breaks the spectator/actor boundary and the genres of art it consolidates, reconfigures the content of marriage, the possibilities of pleasure it allows, and the relationship between Islam and Muslim practice. Unlike performances within the representative regime that attempt to access a metaphysical artistic realm in order to represent some truth, Baradaran`s performance resembles political action properly understood: in eliding the representative divide, it engages not some metaphysical artistic realm, but the very world of which it is a part.

 

New Texts Out Now: Betty S. Anderson, The American University of Beirut: Arab Nationalism and Liberal Education

Betty S. Anderson, The American University of Beirut: Arab Nationalism and Liberal Education. Austin: University of Texas Press, 2011.

Jadaliyya (J): What made you write this book?

Betty S. Anderson (BSA): I always joke that I conceived the project in the pool of the Carlton Hotel in Beirut. In June 2000, I visited Beirut for the first time so I could attend an Arab American University Graduate (AAUG) conference. One day, I walked with some friends all along the Corniche and up through the American University of Beirut (AUB) campus and then back to the hotel. Since it was late June and ridiculously hot, the only option at that point was to jump in the pool as quickly as possible. Two minutes in the pool and the thought occurred to me that my next research project was going to have to be about Beirut in some way. I had fallen in love with the city in just that one day. A half second later, I thought, I should write a history of AUB.

Besides the fact that I wanted to get back to Beirut as soon as possible, I wanted to know why AUB had been so influential in politicizing its students. At the time, I was doing additional research for my book on Jordan (Nationalist Voices in Jordan: The Street and the State) and a number of the political activists I studied had attended AUB. Their memoirs were filled with explanations and stories about how important those four years were for the development of their political identities. However, I had no idea as I floated in the pool that day that I’d have to do extensive research on Protestant missionaries and education long before I could even get to those Arab nationalists. At the time, I really knew relatively little about the school’s history.

J: What particular topics, issues, and literatures does it address?

BSA: When I finally got back to Beirut in 2004, it was research on the educational systems offered at the Syrian Protestant College and AUB that eventually ended up directing my thesis. I was struck initially by the goals the American founders and their successors set for the school. They talked more about the transformative process they wanted the students to undertake than the course options they were offering. For example, Daniel Bliss (1866-1902) preached about producing Protestants who understood not only the liturgy but the lifestyle required of one converting to this faith; Bayard Dodge (1923-1948) exhorted students to follow the model of the modern American man as they sought to develop new characters for themselves. The former presided over a missionary educational system, the latter the new liberal education system then being formulated back in America. The first half of the book discusses this shift as the American University of Beirut was renamed in 1920.

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[Main gate of AUB campus. Photo by Betty S. Anderson.]

Liberal education, as American educators developed it in the second half of the nineteenth century, asks its students to be active participants in their educational experience. Before this point, professors taught their students a fixed body of knowledge; students were required to memorize and recite the data to prove that they had learned it. In liberal education, the system asks that professors teach students how to think and analyze so they can produce data on their own.

The second half of the book examines how the students reacted to this shifting pedagogical focus. The American leaders of the school repeatedly stated their goals for the students, and most books and articles on AUB focus on only those voices. However, that stance leaves out an important element of the AUB story, because only the students can truly determine whether the programs are effective. AUB is famous for the many student protests that have taken place on campus, starting with the Darwin Affair of 1882, leading to the Muslim Controversy of 1909, and then on to the large protests of the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s. As I discovered when I delved into the archives, students used dozens of newspapers to explain why they were protesting. The catalyst was always a particular event, on campus or off, but the students always framed their arguments around the freedom they felt the liberal education system promised. They fought against any administrative attempts to curtail their actions and frequently accused the administration of not following the guidelines set by American liberal education. This issue became increasingly contentious as students worked to define an Arab nationalism that called on them to be politically active while on campus. The administration continually opposed this position, and many of the student-administrative conflicts centered on the differing definitions of freedom put forward on campus. I put “Arab Nationalism and Liberal Education” in the subtitle of the book because by the twentieth century, these were the two dominant elements defining the relationship between the students and the administration.

J: How does this work connect to and/or depart from your previous research and writing?

BSA: Most of my work has centered on education in one form or another. In my book on Jordan, I wrote of the politicizing role high schools in Jordan and Palestine, as well as schools like AUB, played in mobilizing a national opposition movement in the 1950s. I have published a number of articles analyzing the narratives the Jordanian and Lebanese states present to their students in history and Islamic textbooks. Moving on to a comprehensive study of one particularly influential school was a natural progression. The difference was that I now had to study American education in the same way I had previously examined the influence of education in the Middle East.

J: Who do you hope will read this book, and what sort of impact would you like it to have?

BSA: I hope AUB alumni want to read the book and, equally, that they find something of their story in it. I did not want to cite just the Americans who founded and ran the school; I purposely wanted to write about the students themselves. Typical university histories leave out the words and actions of the students in favor of hagiographies about the founders and their famous successors. I also hope that scholars and students interested in studies of education and nationalism will be interested. This is a book that addresses both Middle Eastern and American studies.

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[Assembly Hall and College Hall, AUB Campus. Photos by Betty S. Anderson.]

J: What other projects are you working on now?

BSA:
I have a contract with Stanford University Press to publish a book called State and Society in the Modern Middle East. Like with anyone who undertakes to write a textbook, I am frustrated with those that are currently available. Textbooks of the modern Middle East typically focus just on state formation, the actions of the chief politicians, and the political interplay between states. My text focuses instead on the relationship between state and society as it developed over the last two hundred years. The states in the region centralized in the nineteenth century, faced colonialism in the early twentieth century, and then independence after World War II; these stages created new roles for state leaders. Civil society, in the broadest definition of the term, emerged from the eighteenth century forward as people sought new ways to organize within and against the states now intruding on their lives. They took advantage of the new institutions the states built to establish for themselves new class, national, and gender definitions, while frequently opposing the states that had introduced these very institutions. My text examines how schools, government offices, newspapers, political parties, and women’s groups constantly negotiated new relationships with their respective states.

Excerpt from The American University of Beirut: Arab Nationalism and Liberal Education

From Chapter One:

"The great value of education does not consist in the accepting this and that to be true but it consists in proving this and that to be true," declared Daniel Bliss, founder of Syrian Protestant College (SPC; 1866–1920) and its president from 1866 to 1902, in his farewell address. President Howard Bliss (president, 1902–1920) said in his baccalaureate sermon in 1911, "In a word, the purpose of the College is not to produce singly or chiefly men who are doctors, men who are pharmacists, men who are merchants, men who are preachers, teachers, lawyers, editors, statesmen; but it is the purpose of the College to produce doctors who are men, pharmacists who are men, merchants who are men, preachers, teachers, lawyers, editors, statesmen who are men." Bayard Dodge (1923–1948) stated at his inauguration as president of the newly renamed American University of Beirut (AUB; 1920– ), "We do not attempt to force a student to absorb a definite quantity of knowledge, but we strive to teach him how to study. We do not pretend to give a complete course of instruction in four or five years, but rather to encourage the habit of study, as a foundation for an education as long as life itself." The successors to these men picked up the same themes when they elaborated on the school`s goals over the years; most recently, in May 2009, President Peter Dorman discussed his vision of AUB’s role. "AUB thrives today in much different form than our missionary founders would have envisioned, but nonetheless—after all this time—it remains dedicated to the same ideal of producing enlightened and visionary leaders."

In dozens of publications, SPC and AUB students have also asserted a vision of the transformative role the school should have on their lives. The longest surviving Arab society on campus, al-`Urwa al-Wuthqa, published a magazine of the same name during most academic years between 1923 and 1954 and as of 1936 stated as its editorial policy the belief that "the magazine`s writing is synonymous with the Arab student struggle in the university." From that point forward, the editors frequently listed the society`s Arab nationalist goals. In the fall 1950 edition, for example, al-`Urwa al-Wuthqa`s Committee on Broadcasting and Publications issued a statement identifying the achievement of Arab unity as the most important goal because "it is impossible to separate the history, literature and scientific inheritance of the Arabs" since "the Arab essence is unity." Toward this end, al-`Urwa al-Wuthqa pledged to accelerate the "growth of the true nationalist spirit" among the students affiliated with the organization. In describing education as an activist pursuit, the statement declares, "To achieve political ideas which are aimed at our nationalism it is necessary for we as students to seek information by many different means." In this call, the AUB Arab students must take on the task of studying the Arab heritage as thoroughly and frankly as possible so that when they graduate they can move into society with solutions to the many problems plaguing the Arab world.

Since the school`s founding in 1866, its campus has stood at a vital intersection between a rapidly changing American missionary and educational project to the Middle East and a dynamic quest for Arab national identity and empowerment. As the presidential quotes indicate, the Syrian Protestant College and the American University of Beirut imported American educational systems championing character building as their foremost goal. Proponents of these programs hewed to the belief that American educational systems were the perfect tools for encouraging students to reform themselves and improve their societies; the programs do not merely supply professional skills but educate the whole person. As the quotes from al-`Urwa al-Wuthqa attest, Arab society pressured the students to change as well. The Arab nahda, or awakening, of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries called on students to take pride in their Arab past and to work to recreate themselves as modern leaders of their society; the Arab nationalist movement of the twentieth century asked that students take a lead in fighting for Arab independence from foreign control. The students streaming through the Main Gate year after year used both of these American and Arab elements to help make the school not only an American institution but also one of the Arab world and of Beirut, as the very name, the American University of Beirut, indicates. This process saw long periods of accommodation between the American-led administration and the Arab students, but just as many eras when conflict raged over the nature of authority each should wield on campus; the changing relationship between the administration and the students serves as the cornerstone of this book, for it is here where much of the educational history of SPC and AUB has been written.

From Chapter Five:

The 1952 April Fool’s Day issue of Outlook (called Lookout on that day) satirized the proliferation of student protests that had dominated campus life for the previous few years. In the paper’s lead article, the author declared, “A School of Revolutionary Government, designed to equip AUB students with a wide knowledge of modern techniques of conspiracy and revolution, is to be opened during the fall semester, a communique from the President’s Office announced late Friday.” Continuing the same theme, the article reports, “All courses will include a minimum of three lab hours to be spent in street battles with gendarmes and similar applications of theories learned in classrooms.” President Stephen Penrose (1948-1954), the article stated, gave a Friday morning chapel talk on the new school motto: “That they may have strife and have it more abundantly.” In a further announcement, the paper described the day’s protest.

There will be a demonstration this afternoon at three in front of the Medical Gate to object against everything[.] All those interested please report there promptly five [minutes] before time. The demonstration promises to be very exciting—tear gas will be used, and the slogans are simply delightful. If all goes well, police interference is expected. If not to join, come and watch.

This, of course, had not been the first era of student protest; the difference by the 1950s was the widespread and sustained nature of the conflict between the administration and the students. When Lookout published its satirical articles in 1952, students had been organizing demonstrations in support of Palestinians and Moroccans, and against any and all things imperialist, since 1947; these events only petered out in 1955 as the administration banned the two main groups organizing them, the Student Council and the Arab society, al-cUrwa al-Wuthqa. Students engaged in these exercises explicitly as Arabs, proud of their past, and striving toward cultural, political and economic unity in the future. In their actions, students sought to integrate their educational experiences at AUB with the real-life events taking place outside the Main Gate, for only then did they feel they could be trained to function as the vanguard initiating the necessary changes in their society.

[Excerpted from Betty S. Anderson, The American University of Beirut: Arab Nationalism and Liberal Education. © 2011 by The University of Texas Press. Excerpted by permission of the author. For more information, or to order the book, click here.]