The Stream Beneath the Seat

There is a question that hides inside every careful one: from where am I looking? Ask it once and you get the standpoint — the angle, the interest, the position you happen to occupy. The honest response, on most accounts, is to name that position rather than pretend you have none. But naming it treats the position as a thing: an object with edges, something you could hold up, compare to a rival, defend, or abandon. This essay is about what that thing is made of, and about the cost of discovering that it was never as solid as naming it implied. Start with what is hardest to deny. Begin with the difference between a position and the attention that holds it. A position is discrete. “Sovereignty is fundamentally monarchical.” “Work confers dignity.” “The nation is the right unit for this question.” Each is a countable thing with edges — you can state it, weigh it against an alternative, commit to it, watch the world prove it wrong. Everything we do with our considered views depends on…