Makers Series — Julian de Medeiros
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Time to read 6 min
Written by: Sadie Giacomelli
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Published on
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Last updated on
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Time to read 6 min
My name is Julian de Medeiros. I'm a philosopher and content-creator, with a special interest in the critique of ideology and psychoanalysis.
I was born in the US, but also hold German and Portuguese citizenship. In 2020, I was working as a Lecturer at Oxford Brookes and relocated to the US. That's when I started hosting a live-stream philosophy lecture from my car. I'd always been interested in social media, and this seemed like the perfect way to keep doing interesting work during a difficult time. Later, I also began making short-form content for Instagram and TikTok, but the weekly lectures are still very much the beating heart of the project.
There's a line from Zizek that I like very much, in which he says that "philosophy begins as soon as we refuse to accept what exists as given." This is always my primary impulse when I'm writing or teaching: to look at the things we think we know and then see them through a different light. To me, this is the primary task of philosophy: it gives us a language through which to think the world around us and feel engaged in it.
But here I am also very Hegelian, because I believe that one has to be very attuned to one's own time, and so one has to be relentlessly contemporary. The most interesting work usually starts when one engages with contemporary pop culture, cinema, social media, etc. The key for me is that it's not enough to use philosophical concepts to review or analyze contemporary culture. Instead, it's almost the other way around: when I engage with contemporary culture and politics, I am always amazed how often I encounter things that function well as examples and illustrations of seemingly difficult concepts and theories. This is why, for me, the so-called project of dialectical critique is so important: yes, the world is a terrible place, and we are all doomed. But at the same time, the Gramscian morbid symptoms are also very interesting and also demand of us that we engage critically with them. And so the critique of ideology is paradoxically also a way to feel less doomed and more hopeful about things. This is why reading theory is such an important way of priming oneself for reality, I think. Without it, it can be hard to think critically, and all one is left with is the immediate emotional response, which can be very deflating.
For me, the philosophical and psychoanalytic tradition means also assuming a certain joyful, rebellious responsibility, which makes one want to stay interested in things happening in the world without feeling cynical about it.
When I released my first ebook, titled 'The Hermeneutic Temptation', I felt that I'd discovered a new way of writing and thinking that not only worked for me, but that could also be expanded into a broader project of dialectical critique. It has allowed me not only to work on my own terms, but also created the possibility for me to share my work online and create a broader community that feels invested in the critique of ideology. Along the way, I've also experimented with short-form content, but my first passion is teaching and writing. The rest is mostly a distraction, if I'm being honest.
I'm a complete obsessive when it comes to writing in my notebook, so I always try to have something to write with. Except one time I was in Seattle, and I didn't have anything, so I walked into a local bookstore and purchased my first Blackwing pencil. Growing up in Germany, we were always given really good pencils, and children even still learned to write with a fountain pen. So there was an instant attraction when I discovered Blackwing. I've been gifting them to people ever since.
Notebooks and paper. There's a line from Proust in which he refers to his constant writing and note-taking as his 'manuscribbles', and I relate strongly to that. I can't think without a notebook, and so I'm always writing down the dumbest things. It's a true mania.
Here, I like to abide by Bartleby's well-known maxim, "I would prefer not to". Against the tyranny of constant pseudo-activity, sometimes the most radical thing is to do nothing at all. Only when we tune out the noise can we begin to think for ourselves.
You know, I don't like Orwell that much, but I think he was absolutely right when he said that when we stop writing and thinking for ourselves, it means others will do it for us. And isn't this also the danger with AI, that the machine will do the thinking for us? This is what Zupancic refers to as 'perverse reason', or the logic of disavowal. We keep living and acting in a way that we know is not sustainable, and yet we keep doing it. The crucial thing here is that our very knowledge functions as a fetish that allows us to keep doing it. We all know AI is bad, and yet we continue to partake in it. This means that it's not enough to simply refuse to participate. On a very fundamental level, we have to think the problems of our times, so as to see how our very knowledge of the situation can sometimes further contribute to the problem. The same is, of course, true for climate change (etc.). We all know it's a problem, but sometimes this very knowledge can also create a kind of false complacency.
So the question is, how do we break free? On a very basic level, any true act therefore begins with doing nothing.
I'm always worried that when I give advice, I sound too much like one of Plato's hated sophists. But at the risk of sounding like a self-help guru, I would encourage people to adopt the Lacanian maxim that the only thing one can be guilty of is giving ground to one's desire. To simplify to the utmost, it means that one must choose something and go for it completely. This kind of loyalty or fidelity to the cause is absolutely crucial. The real danger lies not in failure, but in giving ground to one's desire. This means that you must never compromise when it comes to your vision.
I also like Proust's idea that every artist creates their own posterity. When you do something totally original and radical, you create an opening in the world that makes other people want to do so as well. And this is the only way to actually change anything, you have to be totally contra mundum so as to create your own world.
On a final note, this is also why I love the manga and anime series One Piece, because it very effectively illustrates the Hegelian logic of the authentic master. Luffy (the pirate protagonist) does not set others free by liberating them. Instead, he acts with such freedom that it makes others want to be free as well. This is what true freedom looks like, when one has a dream and can fully dedicate one's life to it. That, to my mind, is also the central imperative of all philosophy: to live and think in a way that is so free and uncorrupted that it creates an opening in the world through which people can realize their own freedom. I am, of course, hopelessly naive and idealistic in this sense. But one has to be.
Instagram: @juliandemedeiros
TikTok: @julianphilosophy
YouTube: @julianphilosophy
Substack: https://julianphilosophy.substack.com/
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