Eros and Identity Politics: Understanding Arendt’s Notion of Intimacy through the National Museum of the American Indian

“The world lies between people, and this in-between- much more than (as is often though) men or even man- is today the object of the greatest concern

and the most obvious upheaval in almost all the countries of the globe.” –Arendt, Men in Dark Times, p. 12

If it is true that “The world lies between people,” as Hannah Arendt suggested,

then why must we be so particular about the kinds of human relationships that are

allowed into the political realm? Are our politics not informed by understanding plurality

and imagining the situations that others must endure? Must we not be able to start anew

from oppressive situations by seeing how our very situatedness affects and is affected by

other people? It has long been debated by political theorists whether it is possible to

incorporate into political discourse “non-traditional” ways of understanding others,

including the use of compassion. For example, thinkers like Iris Marion Young (2000)

and William Connolly (1999) questioned whether traditional politics requires us to even

acknowledge one another, let alone relate to those who waiver from mainstream political

approaches. Hannah Arendt, who ever so adamantly separated the sites of human activity

into distinct realms, would have suggested that emotions like compassion are not

conducive to the health of the polis. She argued that while the political actor should

employ “enlarged thinking” and “care for the world,” arguments that appeal to

compassion, such as some instances of identity politics, are pre-political and should be

restricted only to the social and private realms. Arendt insisted on a philia-based politics,

or one based on friendship, rather than one based on eros, or intimacy. Philia, according

to Aristotle’s notion of it, is developed through discourse, which fosters the judgment

necessary for political action. Arendt maneuvers identity politics, or a politics of

difference, into the category of eros because, she suggests, it evokes an intimacy based on

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“whatness” rather than the “whoness” one has made apparent through speech and action.

The following passages outline Arendt’s notion of plurality and eros and trace the linkage

that Arendt makes between eros and identity politics using examples from a particular

cultural text, the Smithsonian’s National Museum of the American Indian. The goal in

illustrating Arndt’s ideas is to understand how she suggested that a politics of difference

creates an intimacy which will only damage political philia.

Arendt, Identity, and Action

One of the greatest factors that set Arendt apart from German Existanz

philosophers was her view that man lives in a plural world where he is forced to confront

others in order to demonstrate who he is through action and speech or speech as action.

While she was influenced by the thinking of Existanz philosophers, she was not

comfortable with the notion that man is merely worldless and lonely. She had a much

less defeatist outlook than this and insisted that man is connected in a social web and that

he has the potential for natality, or to start anew through action. Part of starting anew

meant that man could define himself on his own terms, not those pre-constructed for him.

Arendt felt that although man was equal to other men, he was distinct, but that this

equality was not a given. Equality must be constructed in a realm Arendt described as

“the space of appearances” (Benhabib, 1996).

Embodying one of Arendt’s many distinctions, the space of appearances includes

the separation of different forms of human interaction and relationships. Perhaps it is a

mischaracterization to call Arendt’s various locations of human interaction “spaces,”

because, as is apparent in The Human Condition, it is sometimes unclear whether these

boundaries are set physically and whether their boarders are not at times blurred. The

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three main realms of human interaction for Arendt are the private, the social, and the

political. Again, as pointed out by Benhabib, it would seem that the space of appearances

has the potential to exist both within the social and the political realms (Benhabib, 1996;

Honig, 1992).

Within these sites, there are different forms of human relationships, including eros

and philia, or a relationship based on intimacy verses one based on friendship, founded in

dialogue. Of course, to Arendt the later, a relationship based on philia only belongs in

the political realm, as a relationship based on intimacy will burn itself out and ruin

political friendship (Jasinski, 1993). One must demonstrate who they truly are through

action, or speech and not based on categories that define one in the complicated social

web before they are born, according to Arendt. Therefore, she links politics based on

difference or identity politics to this relationship based on eros (Benhabib, 1996). She

explains that because one has not had the opportunity to define who they truly are

through action when they are identified according to categories based on social factors

like race, gender, and sexual orientation, they have not had the opportunity to participate

in the political speech act by which they demonstrate their “whoness.” Ever the

Grecophile, Arendt adopts Aristotle’s notion that one establishes who they are through

speech, sometimes more specifically, even by talking to one’s self, as pointed out by

Brooke Allen (2004).

Therefore, to Arendt, identity politics do not belong in the polis. They employ

categories based on whatness, rather than whoness, and she uses the analogy of intimacy

to describe them. “Men in dark times,” she suggests, cling to intimate relationships, or

those based on the pre-political, which must be sorted out before the political can begin.

Men have a tendency to substitute “warmth” for “light” in dark times like the emergence

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of the “final solution,” for example, in which Jewish people attempted to avoid

appearance because they knew that they would be persecuted for it (Arendt, 1955, p. 16).

These dark times do not allow for the political, but rather an “inner emigration” in which

those under attack feel as foreigners within their own country, and retreat into an inner

sanctity in the face of “worldlessness.” This retreat disallows the promises and

accountability that are characteristic of the space of appearances. Similarly, Arendt

suggests that those wishing to appear merely from the stance of social identity do not

allow for the appearance of a non-essential view of themselves and others associated with

them, whether voluntarily or not. In neither case are the conditions suitable for political

action, According to Arendt (1955; 1959).

There are exceptions in which Arendt calls upon an identity defined by the social

web and transports it into the political for very specific, special reasons; for example,

Jewishness, as an “identity under attack” made political, as she described in Men in Dark

Times. Arendt explained that the Jews of the enlightenment had answered the question of

who they were with the response “a man,” indicating that they believed in a common

humanity and were likely wary of revealing their identity. Rahel Levin Varnhagen, for

example, acted as a parvenu, denying her Jewish identity in the late seventeen and early

eighteen hundreds for the sake of social mobility, as Arendt (1957) documented in a

biography of her life. Clearly, Arendt believed that Jews of her era did not have the same

options as their enlightenment predecessors. In response to the question raised by Nathan

Wise, “Who are you?” Arendt had responded, “A Jew” because she recognized the

danger in ignoring the fact that Jews were being persecuted for the sake of being Jewish.

She writes, “I was only acknowledging a political fact through which my being a member

of this group outweighed all other questions of personal identity or rather had decided

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them in favor of anonymity, of namelessness” (Arendt, 1968, p. 18). Arendt suggested

that Jewish identity in particular was being persecuted, and for this reason it had become

a “political fact” because it had been singled out above all other aspects of one’s self.

It seems a strange slight of hand by which Arendt both suggests that “dark times”

do not allow for the political, while at the same time suggesting that it is due to these dark

times that her Jewishness becomes a “political fact.” Benhabib suggests that Arendt

actually had long advocated for the political mobilization of Jews, hoping that they would

unite in post-Hitler Germany. She had also suggested that they form an army and fight

Hitler in the hopes that they would be able to participate politically after they were rid of

their dependence on non-Jewish others. Benhabib (1996) writes, “To translate an

‘identity under attack’ into a viable collective political project, and in particular to

reconstruct Jewish collective identity in a form that would not repeat the bygone

repertoire of political alternatives, such as Enlightenment cosmopolitanism, nineteenth-

century assimilationism, or nineteenth-century nationalism, was Hannah Arendt’s

unrealized wish” (p. 38). Arendt made it clear in her exchanges with Gershom Scholem

that there is a distinct Jewish identity, which Honig (1992) argued might not have been

the best move in keeping with her notion that people are comprised of multiple selves.

The concept of plurality for Arendt is central to understanding how she situates

the interactions of distinct, yet equal people in the world and the ways in which one’s

identity relates to others (Benhabib, 1996, p. 53). However, plurality is defined in

Arendt’s sense only by the disparate political actions conducted by those in the space of

appearances. As mentioned, only through speech and action does one disclose

themselves as an agent, and action corresponds to plurality and “to the fact that men, not

man live on the earth and inhabit the world” (HC, p. 7). The unpredictability of action is

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what we must risk for true plurality and the possibility of natality. By its very nature,

action place in a non-reflexive way.

To confuse matters a bit, Arendt introduces two different speech acts into the

political by which one may perform their whoness. One is communicative action, the

other is expressive action. Communicative action is based on an agonal, or deliberatative

approach, while expressive action is based on narrative. Through expressive action, one

can most efficiently associate themselves with the Greek sense of glory and honor in

action. Expressive action seems a bit problematic when applying Arendt’s own terms, as

pointed out by Benhabib (1988) as action by nature is not self-reflexive and requires

some degree of “enlarged thinking.” Those like Achilles, who wish to gain honor and

glory though this kind of narrative, seem to be motivated least by a “projection” of

oneself into the life of another, or enlarged thinking, and more an attempt to live forever

through initiating stories about one’s great deeds.

Identity politics, as a politics of difference, could most closely be compared to

expressive action, as it is not defined through deliberation as is communicative action. It

sets itself in opposition to others and does not necessarily require enlarged thinking. The

narratives surrounding those advocating for a politics of difference have not been

constructed by the subjects of such narrative, but rather the complicated social

relationships of the people around them. Identity is not self-defined, but created through

social networks in this case. Arendt suggests, however, that within a complicated social

web, one’s actions may be misunderstood. Benhabib explains, “The metaphor of the

‘web’ indicates the invisible, gossamerlike ties, networks, and contexts of human

relationships that constitute the ‘horizon’ of human affairs” (p. 112). In the polis, there

may be more opportunity to make one’s intentions understood through deliberation that is

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not based on the pulling of “trump cards” or the complicated social categories one cannot

not help but being placed into. One’s placement into these categories is not based on

discrimination, which Arendt sees as essential to the process of thinking. Arendt did not

question the modernist philosophy that people had rights because they were people.

However, as pointed out by Honig (1988), for Arendt, identity, along with freedom, is not

a given. The will, being spontaneous, leads to action, which helps one to achieve their

“whoness” in the space of appearances, and this is also an exercise of freedom.

According to Honig, Arendt is simpatico with Nietzsche in that there is no “essence” of

the self, which will determine one’s action.

However, as mentioned, there are times in which Arendt considers identity, such

as Jewishness, to be political. This is, again, only in specific historical contexts. Arendt,

for example, was not always simpatico with Jewish “identity politics.” She argued

polemically against Jewish leaders that the newly established Jewish Palestine would not

be a sustainable, independent, and democratic force, but one that would require foreign

support. She advocated against dependence on non-Jewish others. Arendt’s views,

specifically on Palestine, were opposed by collective Jewish groups like the Zionists, and

therefore Benhabib calls Arendt a “self-conscious pariah in the Jewish community” (p.

39). Also, Arendt, seeing her Jewishness as a “social fact,” suggested that she was not

claiming that to be a Jew was to be a “special kind of human being,” but rather, that when

this singular part of one’s whatness came to the forefront, it was only in response to the

circumstances in which one “can resist only in terms of the identity that is under attack”

(Benhabib, 1996 citing Arendt, 1968). The notion of a collective “organic” political

group in Palestine was pre-political because, for Arendt, politics was plural, and

nationalism, like that of the Zionists was non-inclusive of plurality. The same kind of

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homogeneity is seen in the Nazis and other regimes, and for Arendt these groups do not

allow for the political to occur. As Benhabib observes, “Analyzing Arendt’s writings on

Jewish politics, we see how deeply she was involved in these events and how

passionately she thought about twentieth-century political issues as they affected not only

Jews but other peoples as well” (p. 46). Arednt’s ultimate hope was to see a Jewish

coalition fighting for political action within Europe, rather than as a separate nation

where non-Jews would be completely excluded from participation (Benhaibib, 1996).

Applying Arendt to the American Indian Question

Is it the timeliness of the attack that allows Arendt to pull identity constructed via

the social web into the political, specifically when she does so with the Jewish identity in

Men in Dark Times? She suggested that to claim to be a Jew meant “the reality of

persecution” (p. 17). Historically, one could argue that the American Indian has been

another socially constructed identity “under attack.” One could argue that it is still under

attack ideologically and would fall into the category that Arendt calls “underprivileged,”

and therefore one with which Arendt (1959) claimed to “identify” (in the pedestrian

sense) as a German Jewess and a pariah. And, in many cases, the American Indian

identity is “visible” via physical characteristics and other signifiers and puts people in a

position of always being associated as such in the private and social, as Arendt explains is

the case with African Americans. So what exactly does constitute an “identity under

attack”?

As seen in “Reflections on Little Rock,” how Arendt discriminates between

various forms of human activity depends on the ways in which she chooses to categorize

them. For example, she places publicly funded schools outside of the public in the realm

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of the social and private. Where would she place publicly funded museums? She

categorizes museums into the realm of the public in “Reflections on Little Rock” in the

following passage:

There cannot be a ‘right to go into any hotel or recreation area or place of amusement,’ because many of these are in the realm of the purely social where the right to free association, and therefore to discrimination, has grater validity than the principle of equality. (This does not apply to theatres and museums, where people obviously do not congregate for the purpose of associating with each other) (p. 52, emphasis added).

We do not go to museums like the Smithsonian for free social interaction,

according to Arendt, and in cases like this, they are publicly funded institutions, so would

they not fall into the realm of the public? What about when the content of the museum is

entirely based on an identity constructed in the social, or on identity politics as is the case

of the National Museum of the American Indian? As identity relates to public memory,

the museum purports a re-articulation of history based on collaborative efforts made by

American Indian leaders and curators from individual nations. In addition, another goal

of the museum is to portray American Indian culture through current practices, rather

than as an extinct people, as has been the critique of many museums displaying a

“conquered” American Indian heritage as an object of empire (Vizenor, 1990).

While the National Museum of the American Indian exists in a space that Arendt

has defined as public, large portions of its content do not address political issues,

according to Arendt’s definition. However, discourse surrounding the museum suggests

that by other standards, its materialization was political. Congress passed an act to build

the museum in 1989, and the following year, Congress passed the Native American

Graves Protection and Repatriation Act, or NAGPRA, requiring the repatriation of the

human remains and other cultural patrimony in the possession of many museums,

including the Smithsonian. Both acts of legislation would be based on movements that

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were pre-political, according to Arendt’s logic, and she would suggest that both should be

sorted out in the social. How would Arendt connect identity politics, and in particular,

the acts of legislation mentioned with the concept of eros?

Even the very titles of the exhibits within the National Museum of the American

Indian suggest an associational grouping by birth and spiritual practices, which Arendt

would clearly associate with eros. They include, “Our Lives,” “Our Peoples,” and “Our

Universes.” The “our” indicates association by intimacy, shared experience, or birth.

These identities based on birth are associated with the private realm of basic needs, or the

social realm of association, according to Arendt, rather than with action based on

discourse. However, the “Our Peoples” confuses definitions on these terms a bit. Within

the exhibit, there is a wall with many different pictures of people’s faces displaying

disparate features. The wall explains that although all of these people do not “appear” to

be of American Indian descent, they each identify as an American Indian. The lesson is

that those who identify as American Indians come in many different shapes and sizes and

live in various locations from reservations to urban settings, whether or not they “appear”

to be American Indian via traditional clothing or common physical traits. A tour guide

stops by the wall and explains to a group of visitors that “You could be walking by an

American Indian and not even know it.” The message that the museum suggests is that

Indian-ness is not defined by signifiers like appearance or based on whether one “acts” as

an Indian. On two levels, then, this kind of identification conflicts with Arendt’s notion

of identity, including the notion that one must “act” in “the space of appearances.” The

museum seems to suggest that it is not necessary to do either of these things to identify

with this group, but that birth, or Arendt’s notion of “whatness” is the only prerequisite.

The museum also rejects the notion that “blood quantum” defines one’s Indian-

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ness. One exhibit explains that the government created blood quantum measures in order

to certify American Indians, to provide state-funded benefits, and to define who was

“Indian.” It was not until the 1970s that American Indian Nations began to provide

official certification to members of their own group. In addition, the museum featured

exhibits from a few groups of American Indians that are not recognized by state or

federal governments. Arendt, like the message on the exhibit wall, would likely be

critical of the state’s involvement in designating identity based on birth as this is not a

political matter, according to her logic. Perhaps, this kind of government “surveillance”

would also disallow one to disclose their identity via action through pre-definition based

on genetics.

Another question is whether Arendt would agree with some of the issues being

debated over land claims. Arendt herself sued the German government for compensation

post-Holocaust due to the time she was deprived of her ability to teach, and was stateless

as a result of the persecution of the Jews (Kristeva, 2001). Would she agree with the

retribution for the land, water, and other resources that were appropriated through the

removal of American Indians from the lands they had originally inhabited? In another

discussion that she had on the housing shortage, according to Benhabib (1996), Arendt

suggested that the shortage of housing itself was a pre-political, social/private issue, but

that the influx of immigrants causing the shortage was the political issue. How does

Arendt make distinctions like this? How would this relate to retribution for resources

actually taken by the United States Government? Must the government not take

responsibility when it has committed a radical act of evil, such as genocide, and removed

from a people their ability to make their livelihood (or subsistence activities in this case),

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and might taking responsibility not result in some form of retribution by the government?

How does Arendt’s own personal experience relate to this issue?

Arendt saw as problematic the retribution-based argument of Jewish people post-

Holocaust, as she expressed in Eichmann in Jerusalem. She explained that Eichmann

was being punished not for what he had done, but for what the Jews had suffered (p. 5).

Through a highly publicized trial, Jewish leaders wanted to see Eichmann punished in

Jerusalem as a kind of retribution for the hardship the Jews had endured. This is what

Arendt might have explained as a kind of “victim centered” approach. Rather than

focusing on responsibility and accountability, the focus is shifted to the victim. Arendt

(1963) argued that there was no appropriate punishment available for the radical evil that

had occurred during the Holocaust, and since “Men are unable to forgive what they

cannot punish and they are unable to punish what has turned out to be unforgivable,”

sentencing Eichmann to his death could never have been compensation for the pain

endured by the Jews. As Dolan (2004) points out, retribution reproduces a kind of

violence by suggesting that one can only “undo” an action with more destruction.

Dolan’s argument is in keeping with Arendt’s discussion in Between Past and Future, in

which she describes man as being engaged in a perpetual, agonistic struggle with the past.

His only means of fighting a battle with the past is forgiveness so that he might move

forward into the future. It is, of course, essential for man to remember the past and the

promises made there, but he should not be seduced by the comforts of it. Although

Arendt’s discussion of radical evil suggests that certain behavior is beyond man’s

comprehension and therefore also beyond forgiveness, she also suggests that no

punishment could ever adequately address such acts. Because only forgiveness allows

one to start anew, Jewish leaders putting Eichmann on trial were not engaged in a

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“political” act, which might have allowed for a natality for the newly established

Palestine. But, by the same token, Arendt warns against the allure of an over-glorified

future and the promise of progress that it offers. She also may have been critical of

Jewish leaders in Palestine for offering too many promises to Jewish people. Arendt

suggested in her discussion of Eichmann’s trial that it was inspired by the drive to

promote nationalism for the newly established Palestine, which she suggested was as

exclusionary as totalitarian regimes because it was only inclusive of Jewish identity.

Based on the argument that Arendt makes about the problems of retributive

justice, it is unlikely that she would agree with a politics of redistribution, which is

addressed in several locations within the “Our Lives” and “Our Peoples” exhibits of the

Museum of the American Indian. Retributive justice, after all, is not adequate

compensation for the kind of radical evil that was committed against the American

Indians via colonization. As with the housing issue described by Benhabib, Arendt

would likely categorize issues like land and water rights as pre-political, or part of the

social and private realms. In addition, her argument in The Human Condition that private

property is necessary for one to be able to “hide” in order to reproduce themselves for the

public realm, as a life constantly in the “light of publicity” creates a kind of “shallow”

existence, suggests that she supports the notion of private property, which arguably is the

same phenomenon that deprived American Indians of the lives they knew before

colonization (HC, p. 71). Although Arendt separates privacy from intimacy, she would

likely suggest that land rights are “house-keeping” issues, which do not belong in the

political realm, but rather, the private or social. These examples might not necessarily

constitute intimacy for Arendt, but they would likely represent the pre-political.

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While some of the issues addressed within the rock-formation inspired walls of

the Museum of the American Indian would certainly constitute the pre-political for

Arendt, her discussion in Between Past and Future suggests that she might agree with the

rethinking of history, as is promoted as a main message of the museum. As so many

thinkers on post-colonialism have written, those who win the battles also dominate

history and public memory. Arendt also points out this fact in Eichmann in Jerusalem

when describing the “strange craze” of Nazi leaders in creating museums

“commemorating their enemies.” She writes, “During the war, several services competed

bitterly for the honor of establishing anti-Jewish museums and libraries” (p. 37). Arendt

suggests that it is tempting for us to be coaxed by the past told through dominant stories

because they are so familiar to us. Therefore, the re-articulation of history, as co-written

by historically subjugated groups might provide the kind of “stasis,” which Arendt

suggested is necessary for opening up thought. By the same token, she would encourage

a re-thinking of history, rather than merely cutting all ties with the past in order to move

forward. She might even agree with the “Our Lives” exhibit, which displays and

discusses several of the broken treaties made between Native peoples and the United

States Government. This display helps visitors to remember the promises made in the

past, and brings them back into the space of appearances. Again, promises are essential

for Arendt because human behavior is so unpredictable. While the unpredictability of

human action can promote plurality and natality, it can also be misleading when promises

are broken, as was the case with the many unfulfilled treaties signed by the United States

Government. Arendt might suggest that it is up to the government to take responsibility

for the promises made. However, exactly what this would entail is not clear as Arendt

would likely not argue for retribution and redistribution as political issues, and many of

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the issues raised such as land rights and recognition of social difference might also be

considered pre-political identity politics for her.

In a similar endeavor to connect Arendt’s notion of eros and philia with a popular

cultural text, James Jasinski provides some guidelines for understanding the concepts

through examples from the 1983 movie “The Big Chill.” While his article is useful in

understanding eros and philia as demonstrated in interactions between the characters, his

explication is somewhat lacking when he mentions that these concepts can also be

understood through “cultural politics” (p. 481). What is unclear in Jasinski’s article is

how identity politics, if a form of intimacy, wears itself out, “exhausting future

possibilities.” After all, identity politics is not always invested in the “immediacy of the

moment,” and it seeks action by which the people associated with it might enjoy material

rewards, greater recognition, representation, and “enlarged thinking” in the social as well

as the political realms (p. 477). Under Jasinski’s definition of intimacy, it is hard to

understand how issues like land claims might fit into Arendt’s understanding of intimacy

at all, aside from the fact that they are claims that are based on “whatness,” rather than

“whoness.” Are “sustainable relationships” not often based on shared experiences and

narratives? Is it not the goal of Arendt’s political actors to make themselves understood

through expressive and communicative action? Therefore, why are some narratives

considered “intimate” merely because they are associated with particular identities while

others are considered normative and rational? It is likely that Arendt, for example, is

working under assumptions that she has acquired by nature of the country in which she

was brought up. For example, in Reflections on Little Rock, she mentions that because

she is European, she does not understand the kind of bigotry that exists in the American

South against African American people. Her notion of private property and who has

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historically been privy to it and how it has served to under-privilege others is another

example of her own bias. She brings these assumptions into the political, but is unwilling

to admit that her way of knowing has been affected by her “whatness,” or where she has

been raised. Those coming from an Indian nation, however, are not allowed the same

privilege, because their understanding of the world is not necessarily taken for granted by

those already predominantly working within the polis (White men). Thus, while Jasinski

suggests that the downfall of identity politics is that it assumes a common bond through

“shared experience,” he does not recognize the shared experiences that already exist

within the polis.1 Moreover, neither Arendt nor Jasinski account for potential internal

exclusion, once American Indians are able to participate within the polis. (After all,

American Indians were not even allowed to vote until 1924, when they became “citizens”

according to the Museum of the American Indian). Moreover, what American Indians

may take as a “great deed” might not be considered “great” by those dominating the

polis. Therefore, it makes the matter of distinguishing difference as “intimate” not

simply because it is associated with race, but because it is associated with the wrong race.

The most vexing issue haunting one attempting to explicate Arendt’s notions of

eros and philia are again, the process by which she distinguishes. The ability to judge

and to distinguish are precisely what Arendt suggests that relationships based on eros are

lacking as they are more commonly associated with decisions based on passion.

However, although judgment is done autonomously, it requires an “anticipated

communication” with others (1954, p. 220). The problem is precisely that certain issues

are related to particular racial groups because history has created that situation for them,

1 Benhabib (1988) expresses the importance of “friendship” in a political ethic, and its importance in seeking a common goal, although her notion seems to evoke compassion and common understanding. She writes, “These moral attitudes of civic friendship and solidarity involve the extension of the sympathy and affection we naturally feel toward those closest to us onto larger human groups and thus personalize justice” (p. 47). Arendt would likely criticize this kind of attitude as “victim centered” although they seem useful to fostering a “care for the world.”

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like the situation of the Jews. So, how may we decide which issues belong in the public

and private realms? Benhabib provides a cursory explanation of this in citing exchanges

between Arendt and Mary McCarthy. Arendt explains:

There are things where the right measure can be figured out. These things can really be administered and are not then subject to public debate. Public debate can only deal with things which—if we want to put it negatively—we cannot figure out with certainty…On the other hand, everything which can really be figured out, in the sphere Engels called the administration of things—these are social things in general. That they should then be subject to debate seems to me phony and a plague (Benhabib, p. 156, citing Arendt in The Recovery of the Public World, p. 316).

Of course, Arendt’s explanation may leave her critics unsatisfied. She is not

suggesting that all administrative activity is intimate, but she does suggest that it does not

belong in the public realm. Arendt’s comments leave one wondering just what has been

made common sense. Her sense of common sense, like one’s ability to “tell right from

wrong,” is likely influenced by her own experiences, not just her capacity for thought.

The irony is that for Arendt, thought does require some degree of self-reflexivity, as

discussed by Benhabib (1988). The connection between what issues make it into the

public realm and one’s own sense of what constitutes the political seems to be left to

some kind of rationality, which Arendt does not seem to further explicate. Therefore, it is

unclear, again, how Jasinski links cultural politics, like land and water rights, directly to

the intimate, non-political. They are based largely on issues that Arendt would call

private and administrative, but not necessarily intimate. Again, as Benhabib points out,

Arendt’s notion of private does not always equate intimacy. In addition, cultural politics

are often not necessarily concerned with merely the immediate or even with what Arendt

might call compassion, but with the sustainability of given groups via resources. Arendt

suggests that it is necessary to possess some kind of judgment, informed by thinking,

which will inspire the will and therefore lead to action. The intimate, as described by

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Jasinski, blurs judgment because it is not based on thinking. However, sustainability via

basic resources is vital for the private and social realms. The private and social realms, in

turn, are necessary for the sustainability of the political realm. The political realm is

sustained by pluralism. Following this logical chain, we might conclude that the

maintenance of basic resources is not only future-oriented, but necessary to fuel political

participation. While Arendt would suggest that the disproportionate issues of poverty

predominant within some Indian populations is pre-political as an issue of “the hungry

masses,” she would certainly agree that these conditions should be addressed via the

administrative in order to sustain the political realm and true plural participation within it.

Therefore, although these issues might not be political for Arendt, they certainly warrant

attention. They are future-oriented and not merely guided by passion or compassion, but

the simple, basic, future-oriented necessities of life, and are therefore hardly intimate by

Jasinski’s own definition, nor are they attempting to fulfill some immediate need of “men

in dark times” as Arendt (1955) describes.

Also problematic is Jasinski’s discussion of why those in traditionally

“marginalized” communities lack the kinds of skills that will allow them to participate in

politics. He writes: “First, intimate communities existing on the excluded margins will

lack the practical political resources (for example, the ability to organize coalitions, the

creativity to construct a political vocabulary that can appeal to diverse groups) necessary

for generating social change” (p. 481). The act passed by congress in 1989 to build the

National Museum of the American Indian and the subsequent passage of NAGPRA in

1990 requesting the return of cultural patrimony to various Indian Nations are the result

of the very organized advocacy which Jasinski suggests is unlikely from marginalized

groups. American Indian politicians like Senator Ben Nighthorse Campbell, Smithsonian

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Secretary Lawrence Small, Richard West, the National Museum of the American Indian

director, and Alejandro Toledo Manrique, the indigenous president of Peru, all presenting

quite eloquent speeches at the opening ceremonies of the National Museum of the

American Indian, might be examples of the kinds of unlikely advocates of which Jasinski

speaks (C-SPAN, 2004).

The two acts of legislation mentioned, according to their advocates, evoke a great

deal of social change in the emphasis they place on the re-articulation of history for the

sake of public memory. In addition, the museum might be a material representation of

what Arendt (1958), borrowing from Aristotle, would call an epideictic celebration of

excellence. The first major monument to the American Indian in Washington D.C., the

museum serves to commemorate the great perseverance of American Indians in the face

of extreme opposition, the high percentage of American Indians serving in the Armed

Forces, the participation of particular Nations like the Oneida in the construction of major

American cities like New York, and other “great deeds” which have contributed to the

social realm and the sustainability of the political realm. American Indian politicians like

Senator Ben Nighthorse Campbell are also commemorated in the museum for their

advocacy of American Indian issues over the years regarding poverty, political advocacy,

and land rights.2 Each of these examples are based not on “whatness,” but rather, on

action with the emphasis of starting anew in the face of worldlessness (C-SPAN, 2004).

The museum also documents many of the traditional subsistence activities

performed by Native peoples. According to Benhabib, Arendt (1958) would not have

considered the kind of labor done in the private, or the satisfaction of “basic necessity,”

as part of the economic or political, as was one of her major points of contention with

2 For example, a temporary exhibit running at the National Museum of the American Indian in Spring, 2004 was devoted entirely to the private, social, and political accomplishments of Campbell.

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Marx. Arendt contended that those animal laborans merely devoted to basic labor were

not fully human as their activities aimed merely to satisfy basic needs rather than the

purposes of a higher political order. Conversely, private labor done in the home was

essential to the structure of the economy and reproduction of laborers, according to Marx

(Benhabib, 1996).

Arendt (1958) argued adamantly that labor belonged in the private, work in the

social, and action in the public. To consider the emergence of oikos (the private) in the

polis was to allow the rise of the private into the political, disallowing political action,

according to Arendt. However, one can see the necessary connection of the two clearly

in the case of indigenous groups still dependent on the land and its features for survival.

Many American Indians today are unable to perform traditional subsistence activities

because of environmental pollution. One of many examples is the condition of the Pomo

Indian Nation in Northern California, which has heeded warnings by health officials of

the high mercury content in the local lake linked with runoff from mining activities.

Health officials suggest that high mercury content is a major cause of damage to

developing fetuses (United Nations Commission on Human Rights, 2004). Therefore, the

Pomos can no longer perform the basic subsistence activities by which they have

traditionally sustained themselves, forcing them to consume more mass produced

products.3 American Indians are encouraged to assimilate into consumer culture when

other alternatives have been collapsed by the growth of consumerism itself. Would the

environmental issue for Arendt, then, have been a political one, as it combines the issues

of basic necessity with economy and environmental regulation? An essay by Trevor

Norris (2004) describes Arendt’s investment in the question of the environment and

3 Note, there is no exhibit addressing the problems encountered by the Pomo Nation in the National Museum of the American Indian, but many other issues involving other Indian Nations and problems with the environment are documented. The Pomo example here is only one of many.

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consumerism as he interpreted it in The Human Condition. Arendt might agree that

through the modern condition of hyper consumption, people feel increasingly worldless

due to the private/social/political conflation, as was seen in the post-911 political

promotion of increased surveillance (what Arendt might call publicity) and promotion of

consumption.

Arendt’s major concern with the rise of the private/social into the polis is the

danger to political life. As Norris points out, in the rise of consumer culture, systems of

signification become increasingly devoted to promoting consumption rather than

conveying other useful information. As American pragmatists like John Dewey (1927)

suggested, mass mediated systems increasingly confused political matters in modern

times. Dewey’s solution was for citizens to make the best decisions possible based on

available information, while other intellectuals like Walter Lippmann (1925) proposed

employment of professional representatives who were well informed enough about

political issues to make decisions for the lesser motivated, able, and informed citizens

that they represented. In each of these cases, the main concern was the relationship of

public signifiers in maintaining a healthy political life. Moreover, the kinds of appeals

made by modern advertisers promoting consumption such as appeals to emotion,

compassion, and love would fit into the category of intimacy for Arendt. Using

Baudrillard’s notion of commodities as signs and the importance of advertising in

socialization, Norris explains that products are increasingly representing not just their

function, but another fetizhized value for consumers. Consumers increasingly seek to

define their social identity via the “false individuality” signified through the possession of

particular cultural capital (McChesney, 2004). In addition, McChesney describes the

push for politicians to deregulate media ownership rules, allowing for a few, elite

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commercial voices to control the airwaves that are technically supposed to serve the

public’s “interest, necessity, and convenience.”4 In recent times, the process of

consumption has sped up, creating more waste and diminishing natural resources, and

arguably even leading to war over resources. In addition, the attempts to construct social

identities, whether individual or collective, based on consumption would be considered

apolitical by Arendt.

According to Norris, the issues of consumption increasingly ascend into the

political while at the same time the environment is destroyed, as is documented in

exhibits explaining land/water rights issues in the Museum of the American Indian. For

Arendt, the modern age encourages the ascent of the private/social into the political,

which traps people in the cycle of production/consumption, rather than allowing them the

freedom of action and natality. In addition, while work has traditionally been associated

with the production of goods sustaining exchange, it is also necessary to politics. Pre-

political, modern times increasingly collapse the distinction between labor and work.

Goods are produced and consumed immediately under this new system, whether they

satisfy basic needs or the desire for signification in the social. Through this “accelerated

process of decay,” the goods produced through labor/work do not sustain the structures

necessary for political life as Arendt described in The Human Condition (Norris, p. 7).

People are increasingly caught up in consumption, rather than interest in political life,

and the acquisition of goods transcends the boundaries of the political and become

conflated with the notion of freedom. The breakdown of the boundaries between the

three realms of the human condition increasingly allows the non-political to seep into the

political and the private realm to be invaded by publicity. In turn, bonds forged through

the emotional appeals of advertisers and politicians promoting consumption would be

4 As was prescribed by the Communications Act of 1934.

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considered those founded in eros, or identities not constructed by the actions of those

who claim them, but rather, marketing teams who promote them.

“Springing Forth Anew” in Modern Times

In modern times, it becomes increasingly more difficult to distinguish the three

realms in which human activity takes place as outlined by Arendt. As politicians

promote irresponsible consumption to fuel the economy, and even the water we drink has

become increasingly fetishized via fancy packaging and marketing, it is difficult to know

whether the information by which we make decisions about the political is not informed

merely by those associated with dominated history, communication, and politics.

Therefore, Arendt would likely agree that a re-evaluation of the past is necessary in order

to understand how we might act in the future. Such a collaborative re-evaluation is

offered at the National Museum of the American Indian, according to its creators. While

Arendt, at times, distinguishes issues common to one social identity as part of the social

or private, it would be difficult to argue that groups historically excluded from the public

should not be allowed to shine forth in the space of appearances now simply because

their narrative differs from those currently dominating the polis. After all, it is the one

who dominates who gets to set the rules, as well as to tell the history. Simply writing off

some issues as “intimate” because they are necessary for satisfying basic needs does not

make them any less political in the many other future-oriented functions they serve.

Moreover, with the collapse of Arendt’s realms in modern society, issues once considered

basic are now quite complicated. Action remains the only option for starting anew in the

worldlessness of modern times.

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