Eric Raymond's paired "Top Ten Reasons I'm Not a (Left) Liberal" and "Top Ten Reasons I'm Not a Conservative" are worth their weight in gold (as is most everything Raymond writes in his blog and elsewhere). The lists are a compact and clever way of pointing out the ludicrousness of the political classification system that seems to hold so much sway over American public discourse (not to mention academic discourse). On the one hand, there are political positions that are labelled "right" or "left." On the other hand, opposing positions have much in common. As Raymond's mirror-imaging of the list items shows, hard "left" and "right" opinions about guns, abortion, values, religion, and so on are yin and yang; they complement one another, and even beget one another; though their adherents would rather die than admit it, they are also equally extreme, and hence equally untenable.

The best part, though, is how Raymond sets up the ideologically inclined reader. A leftist who sees his beliefs become fodder for Raymond's portrayal of cliched radicalism will rationalize his discomfort by dismissing Raymond as a right wing reactionary masquerading as a centrist. A conservative who sees his beliefs become fodder for Raymond's portrayal of knee-jerk narrowness will rationalize his discomfort by calling Raymond an anti-American communist masquerading as a centrist. Taken together, the lists mock--and expose--the entirely anti-intellectual habit Americans of all political persuasions have of needing to label a person's politics--or, more basically, a person--this or that. They also point out how the need to classify is closely tied to the need to contain what is not readily classifiable, and how containment-through-labelling can be in turn a mode of demonizing that permits the demonizer not to have to try to understand the very thing that he claims--via his label--to know.

This blog is a classic example of the phenomenon that I (via Raymond) have been describing. It has been the subject of some very colorful classificatory adjectives since I began writing it last March (reactionary, dysfunctional, and so on). Likewise, I, as the writer of the blog, have also been the subject of disciplinary labelling (my favorite: a former student of mine who amused himself by using the search string "Erin O'Connor is a bitch" to google my blog). The adjectives and invective that surround my blog in certain circles operate in the manner that Raymond finds so contemptible: to legitimate the labeller's failure to comprehend that which does not confirm his own prejudices.

All of this is to say that if you don't already know about Eric Raymond, get thee to his blog and get to know him. Raymond is a crackerjack programmer (or "hacker") and a proponent and theorist of open source software. But you don't have to know jack about computers to appreciate Raymond (I, who do not know jack about computers, am living proof of the truth of this proposition). What Raymond stands for transcends the particularities of programming, or even technology. To me, he exemplifies what might be called "playful professionalism," or "professional playfulness," or maybe, more simply, "play." He loves what he does, he does it extraordinarily well, he is serious about what he does, and yet he is always having a good time. Work is not work for him, but neither is it a game; instead, it's a vital form of self expression, a creative outlet, a source of sustenance. Raymond is an expert and an authority who is not impressed by the trappings of punditry; you won't find Raymond pontificating or posturing but you will find him expressing himself in frank, clear, creative language that is unafraid to be accessible and sincere. He is capable of being funny and smart at the same time; he is a generous thinker as well as a deep one, as ready to admire the ideas of others as to offer ideas of his own.

What I like most about Raymond, though, is the absolute intellectual comfort that shines forth from his blog. It's not just that he is whipsmart and a good writer and well read and, like, cultured and stuff, though he is all these things. It's that he is at once fearlessly opinionated and extremely thoughtful; he writes about teen sex (which he gleefully and graphically supports) and gun control (which he most emphatically does not support), without a care in the world about whether his opinions or his manner might offend the sensibilities of sensitive readers, or alienate potential employers, or damage his reputation. The ideas alone matter.

Maybe this sounds trite to you; I suppose it all depends on where you work and how you live. In my corner of academe, there are few, if any, Raymonds. The spirit of individualism is so dead in the humanities that it is mocked outright as a bourgeois conceit. The desire to express unpopular views (i.e., views that would displease, offend, or disturb one's colleagues) is so nonexistent that academic freedom has come to seem like a quaint vestigial structure, a protection that has little, if anything, to protect. Truly joyous, invigorating engagement with one's work has, as a result, become very hard to find--grad students are depressed, worried, stressed out careerists (and rightly so); junior faculty are simply more advanced depressed, worried, stressed out careerists (and rightly so); and senior faculty, well, they are either depressed and burned out or riding a self-flattering wave of glorious repetition (recycling their own arguments, reiterating the arguments of others, staking out tiny corners in already over-trafficked theoretical cottage industries). There are exceptions, but I describe the general rule.

And so I am glad to have found Eric Raymond. Unlike, say, a Jane Gallop or a Cornel West, both critics who pose as provocateurs and call it intellectual work, Raymond allows his intellect to take him wherever it leads--even if it leads him where others fear to tread. The humanities needs new heroes, though humanists may not be willing to admit as much. I've been looking about for intellectual heroes for awhile now, ever since I realized that there was no one in my own field who I want to be when I grow up. Raymond is one of the people I am lucky enough to have found.