Acknowledgments
This book has been in development for a number of years, so the list of people to thank is long. I have to start with my family: my mother, Merrie McIvor; my father, D. William McIvor; and my sister, Kristen McIvor. Their encouragement and support have been unswerving. Even as I pursued an uncertain career, they never evinced a moment of doubt. If they were delusional, it was a loving (and necessary) form of delusion.
My passion for the study of politics was kindled while I was an undergraduate student at Western Washington University. I owe a special gratitude to Gerard Rutan, with whom I spent countless office hours arguing and puzzling over the state of the world. Ken Hoover provided a less combative yet just as essential form of support. Vernon Damani Johnson, Butch Kamena, and Sara Weir each provided inspiration and mentorship. Outside the political science department, I owe special thanks to Brenda Miller and Gary Geddes. Gary in particular had a foundational impact, not least because his seminars cultivated a camaraderie and bonhomie that is all too rare in academic spaces. Finally, I need to thank the friends and intellectual companions I met during this time, including Lee Gulyas, Jeremy Pataky, Carter Hasegawa, Janel Davis, Ian Buchan, Trevor Sargent, and Brian Mapes Skywalker.
At Duke University, I was fortunate to fall into an intellectual community that provided the right mixture of rigor, humor, passion, and commitment. The beating heart of this community was Peter Euben. Peter is everything a mentor should be: generous, supportive, attentive, and lovingly critical. None of this would have been possible without him. I also owe an incalculable debt to Rom Coles, Ruth Grant, and George Shulman. Each of them provided guidance, support, and critique in their own unique way, and I am deeply appreciative of their individual and collective efforts. In addition to stellar faculty members, I was part of a cohort at Duke that pushed, prodded, and supported one another. Special thanks are due to Laura Grattan, Stefan Dolgert, Alisa Kessel, P. J. Brendese, Ali Aslam, James Bourke, and Joel Schlosser.
I would also like to show my appreciation to the staff at the Kettering Foundation, where I spent a wonderful stretch of time as a postdoctoral research associate. Derek Barker made my time at Kettering possible, and for this and many other reasons, I am deeply indebted to him. I also thank David Mathews, John Dedrick, Randy Nielsen, Sara Mehltretter-Drury, Noëlle McAfee, Jack Becker, Connie Crockett, David Holwerk, Paloma Dallas, and Alice Diebel for making my time at Kettering so fruitful and intellectually stimulating. While at Kettering I also had the great fortune to meet Michael Neblo, who has become a wonderful mentor and friend.
This project was completed at Colorado State University, where I have been extremely lucky to find yet another group of supportive colleagues. I owe special thanks to Brad Macdonald, who has done so much to make political theory a vibrant presence at CSU and whose passion for the vocation of political theory is infectious and inspiring. Thanks also to Michele Betsill and Bob Duffy, who, as chairs, have guided me through the early years of an academic career. In addition I am grateful to Steve Mumme, Gamze Cavdar, Marcela Velasco, and the other members of the CSU political science department for creating such a collegial and exciting place to work.
A small part of chapter 2 was originally published as “Bringing Ourselves to Grief: Judith Butler and the Politics of Mourning” in Political Theory (August 2012), and is reprinted here with permission. In addition, this project was developed through various conference presentations, and I owe a debt of gratitude to a string of discussants and copanelists who pushed me to sharpen or deepen my arguments. In particular, I must single out the Association for Political Theory working group convened by Jill Frank in 2012, which helped me to develop the arguments made in chapter 4. Special thanks also to the other members of that group: Steven Salkever, Arlene Saxonhouse, Thornton Lockwood, Jeff Miller, and Joel Schlosser. I was also very fortunate to be selected for the APT first book manuscript workshop in 2013. Deep and abiding thanks to the organizers of and participants in that workshop: Mark Rigstad, Andrew Murphy, Melissa Schwartzberg, Simon Stow, Christina Tarnopolsky, W. James Booth, Libby Anker, Michaele Ferguson, and Joel Schlosser. Bonnie Honig has read pieces of the manuscript and has been very generous with suggestions and support. I also thank the anonymous reviewers and my editor at Cornell, Roger Haydon, for seeing the potential in the manuscript and helping to bring it to the finish line.
A connective thread runs between all of these spaces. My wife and companion, Hollie Johnson, is a remarkable person with whom I am blessed to share a life. Hollie has been there for me since before this project began, and her love and support have been steady sources throughout the course of its completion.
And finally, this is a book about the pain of loss and the potential for repair, and as it happens its genesis is rooted in a personal calamity. In December 2006, I was hit and then run over by a dump truck while on my bike commute to the campus of Duke University. In an irony that I only later appreciated, the vehicle struck me while I was on my way to deliver the final exam for a class I was teaching entitled Politics and Tragedy. I avoided permanent disability or death by a matter of inches.
It is a cliché that near-death experiences fundamentally alter one’s perspective, and it is a cliché because we can never fully live (or live fully) in awareness of life’s fragility. Yet this experience remains a presence in my life, and it serves as a potent reminder of vulnerability and interdependency. To be tossed by a vehicle like a cheap toy is to realize the contingency and chanciness of life. But beyond this I learned that recovery only happens with and through others. After the crash I was instantly surrounded and supported by a community of friends, mentors, family members, health professionals, and even strangers who had witnessed the accident. One should not romanticize communities too much, of course, but one also should not underestimate their importance. This book is dedicated to all those who brought me back to life.