by Robbie Watt
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03 Aug, 2021
Watt / What? When I was ten years old, I moved primary school, which was daunting because I had to leave the old school where a view of me had been established, and move to a new school where the conditions of my existence would hinge on the way that I was re-thought. Would I be able to wear the right mask? I settled in okay, as others came towards a set of views about the mask I wore. One day our usual teacher was off, so another teacher covered our class. This other teacher, who I didn’t know, saw me talking when all were supposed to be quiet. She hailed me and made me stand up at my desk. All the others in the class were looking. The teacher told me off. This was embarrassing, especially because I was not used to being told off – I much preferred to stay out of trouble and the play the good kid, without being so much of a sook (a suck-up) that others would call me a teacher’s pet. Now the others were enjoying seeing how I behaved when in trouble and under the spotlight. The teacher asked for my name, so that my misdemeanour could be reported. I replied, ‘Robbie.’ The teacher asked, ‘What’s your second name?’ I replied, ‘Watt.’ Outraged, the teacher exclaimed ‘EXCUSE ME?!’ The class erupted with laughter. Watt is my name, but the teacher heard it as ‘What?’, as insolence. The laughter of the class didn’t help me, it increased my embarrassment. The teacher was confused and still wanted to know my name. She asked again, ‘What’s your second name?’ This was a difficult question for me. I wasn’t sure if she’d asked, ‘What’s your second name?’ or ‘Watt’s your second name?’ I could have replied ‘yes’. Panicked, I opted for: ‘Watt.’ More laughter! It took a while before the situation was resolved – another child bailed us out by explaining my surname. The teacher kept a fairly stern look despite the hilarity of everyone else, and I eventually managed to breathe again. What subjectivity? This memory came to mind when I read Žižek’s latest where he discusses subjectivity in a range of mind-bending ways, very much with a Lacanian perspective. He writes that ‘I exist only insofar as I am another’s fantasy, and I exist insofar as I elude the others’ grasp’. He says I am a ‘lack in the Other’s thought, a lack which is immanent to the thought’. My existence is ‘correlated to being-thought, but being thought incompletely’. Despite the literary and sci-fi illustrations provided, it’s hard to process this - and its seeming contradictions - especially for me as I’m still getting to grips with this outlook. In Watt / What, I tried to wear one symbolic mask by dutifully reporting my name Watt, but I was viewed by the teacher as wearing a different insolent mask, as she heard ‘What?’. It’s an error to think that the real me was the dutiful, whereas the insolent me was false. They are both false, in different ways. Dutiful Watt and insolent What? are views of me by the Other, created through the symbolic order. Both would need to be distinguished from me as a subject, for I am ‘a lack in the Other’s thought’. Although I was more typically known as the dutiful, and commonly displayed such aligned behaviours, this view of ‘me’ is still mis-recognition. In the teacher’s perception of What? she mis-mis-recognised me. Things would have been different if the rest of the class had not been present (1). They laughed at the mis-recognition as if at the comedy of a pantomime, yet they observed with intent to confer judgement on the actors, on the teacher and I, who both realised that our masks were in danger of slipping. That is why I was embarrassed and panicked in the class, for the way in which I was being thought was morphing, second-by-second, and somehow I knew that ‘a subject’s existence is correlated to being-thought’, even if that form of being thought of is always incomplete. Kill the Englishman! The low stakes school example might make the issue seem trivial, so here’s another with some more political and historical significance, also involving a Robert Watt. Not me (Robert/Robbie Watt), but my great-grandfather (Robert/Bert Watt, born 1899). In 1918-19, Bert Watt was stationed in treacherous north Russia with the British army who aligned mostly with the counter-revolutionary Czarist Russians against the Bolsheviks. Bert was involved in maintaining and guarding the railway network near Murmansk. This was a dramatic period in general but there is one story that my grandfather Ronald Watt, Bert’s son, has repeated to me a few times, and which is relevant for this purpose. Ronald wrote the story thus: "Perhaps [Bert’s] greatest danger was on one occasion when his small train stopped for a prolonged period at a wayside halt, where a large number of starving Russians were lurking, hoping to get onto a train towards Murmansk. My father was the guard on this military train and armed only with a pistol he was trying to hold the desperate crowd from rushing the train. A cry went up “kill the Englishman” and in terror at this final indignity my father shouted out “I am not an Englishman, I am a Scotsman”. Strangely this worked like magic on those at the front of the crowd, who said they had good relations with Scottish fishermen and Lerwick was mentioned, and the crowd calmed down. The train suddenly moved off and he was saved." Our family loves this story because my great-grandfather survived, because it shows Bert’s quick-wit, and because the crowd’s forgiveness of him as a Scot helps us distance ourselves, generations later, from the ‘Englishness’ which Scots often misleadingly ascribe to such counter-revolutionary and imperialist military endeavours and colonial enterprises as that which Bert Watt was involved in. For Bert, it would indeed have felt like a ‘final indignity’ to be killed ‘as an Englishman’. If the crowd were to kill him, they could at least mis-recognise him better before doing so. Bert avoided this fate by speaking to the big Other, which drew him into symbolic connection, via nationality, to friendly Scottish fishermen. No longer was Robert Watt just a young man holding a pistol, guarding a train to deny the starving, but a Scotsman (not an Englishman) doing the same. If that story doesn’t convince you that ‘a subject’s existence is correlated to being-thought, but being thought incompletely’, I’m not sure what will. Footnotes (1) I can’t quite fathom what would have happened if it were just me and the teacher, but the stage would be different. Perhaps more deeply this is related to Žižek’s claim in his article, that ‘the minimal number in an intersubjective communication is not two but three. When two meet, they are BOTH divided into their self-experience and their symbolic identity, and this redoubling can only function if a third moment is operative, the big Other which is not reducible to the two.’ (2) Photo of class room by Feliphe Schiarolli . Photo of rail track by Sangga Rima Roman Selia .