In the last couple of weeks I’ve begun writing my masters thesis.
The masters program I am in doesn’t provide its students with offices. However, through some lucky connections, I have found myself a writing space in this office-hut.
It’s located near all the main university buildings, but kinda on the fringe, immersed in native bush, and prone to mold.
Close by my ‘office’ is the head quarters of Campus Care (which is kinda like Campus Security but also does some caretaking) and the mail room.
Over the time I’ve spent in my office-hut I’ve gotten to know the Campus Care guys a little and they’ve gotten to know me.
I wave at them every morning as they take the path past my hut, wondering where they’re off to, and why they carry walkie-talkies.
They wave back at me, with big smiles, no doubt wondering what I’m up to, sitting, typing in frustration at my computer all day.
And as they walk past, the words of their working day intersect with the many words of mine:
….Such a definition of security reveals realism’s deep statism, which sees national security, secured by military force, as the primary object for study…
…in Cox’s terminology, labelled ‘problem-solving’ theories. Having accepted the prevailing (state) structure…
‘He was wearing black glasses. Aviator types. Yeah.’
…This approach to suffering relies upon the liberal theorist occupying a ‘helping’ role, from which…
‘Liking those pants there sheila!’
…The work of Martha Nussbaum, for example, charts an alternative politics of cosmopolitanism through…
‘Okay. So. He’s our guy?’
…Critical Security Studies invites me into the thought of the Frankfurt School…
‘Screw work today. I just wanna have a picnic.’
In all the great seriousness and loneliness of writing thousands of words alone in a small hut, I am happy to hear the words of other humans, busy living other lives.