Essex, almost at the very back of the auditorium. There at the front, far away, Badiou, white haired, jolly. So that's Badiou! Badiou, whose thought is the most exciting W. has encountered in twenty years … Badiou, last of the great French philosophers. And a mathematical philosopher, to boot!
Maths!, that's the new thing. English departments up and down the land will have to hold maths classes … Philosophy postgraduates will be studying set theory. Clarity!, that's the other new thing. Imprecision and unclarity – last year's thing. Vague deconstructive maunderings – out! Mathematical precision, axioms, and algebraic notation – in!
And militancy, that's the third in the troika! It's time to be militant again, or least to think about militancy, the possibility of militancy. It's time for the pathos of militancy, at the very least.
So what's Badiou talking about, there at the front of the auditorium? Something to do with maths. It's hard. Even W., who has long undergone a maths turn, is stumped. And something about love. Ah, love! So Badiou is a passionate philosopher! Passionate without equivocation, directly, simply – a lucid simplicity in which you can speak of great and simple passions!
We need to learn from this, W. writes in my notebook.
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