Bill Livant May 24, 1932 - June 2, 2008
Dr. William Paul (“Bill”) Livant passed away following a stroke at Victoria General Hospital on June 2nd, 2008. He is survived by his sons Paul and Benjamin, his daughters-in-law Eileen and Monica and his grandchildren Jacob, Hannah and Max Livant. His beloved wife Marianne Fischer Livant passed away in 1998.
Bill was a Brooklyn native who carried the love of his first home with him throughout his life. He graduated from Swarthmore College with a Bachelor’s degree and the University of Michigan with a Ph.D. in psychology. Bill and Marianne married in 1957 and had their first son Paul in 1958 and second son Benjamin in 1960. The family emigrated to Canada in 1967 when Bill accepted a faculty position at the University of Regina.
Over the 22 years that Bill was in the Department of Psychology he gained a reputation as a most popular lecturer who would often play the piano for students. He was less popular with the administration of the university as he maintained a committed solidarity with students and their causes. For example, Bill assisted students in publishing the radical newspaper Prairie Fire in the 1970s out of his family basement and was a longtime supporter of the socialist periodicals Monthly Review and Briarpatch, among many other progressive causes.
Bill and Marianne retired in 1989 and moved to Victoria, where Bill continued to work with various activist groups and causes, especially with the Latin American immigrant community in support of Cuba and Venezuela. Bill’s scholarly interests were broad and included Marxism, evolutionary philosophy and revolutionary social movements worldwide. He also loved music and had been a gifted classical pianist in his earlier years. A memorial for Bill is planned for a later date. In lieu of flowers, or donations, committed activism within any cause or charity dedicated to freedom from oppression and war is welcome.
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93 comments:
Bill never failed to make me think -- really think -- whenever I spoke to him. He was someone who forced you to question assumptions and to look at things in a new way. The feeling would last for days and weeks afterward: I felt like a haze had been lifted and that I could start to see things as they really were. Amazingly, when I came back to Victoria after sometimes many months had passed, Bill picked up the conversation where we had left off, not pausing for chit chat or niceties, but tucking straight into the intellectual meat, like some kind of philosophical carnivore. I never met anyone quite like Bill before, and I suppose I never will again. Bill, I will miss you. In fact, I already do.
One of my earliest memories of Bill was in the front yard of our house in Regina. Bill would walk all about the neighborhood, visiting his various colleagues of the university there. I have an unusually vivid memory of him talking to me about Marx in our front yard, with a corn-cob pipe in in his hand, and the Communist Manifesto stuffed into his back pocket. He always, always, treated me as an intelligent, thinking person, even when I was 5. Bill had real, heart-founded respect and admiration for humanity: he is a humanist! Beyond his unmatched intellectual qualities, Bill truly had brotherly love, a rarity in this world. He is my dear friend, and I'll always hold him close to my heart. My love to all of his family. -eric.
Here is one of Bill's favorite poems:
OZYMANDIAS by Percy Bysshe Shelley
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away
I’ve known Bill for many years; my Mom was his student back in the early 70’s when I was just a child. I have so many fond memories of my experiences with him, too many to write down. Often there were gatherings at our house and many interesting people were there but Bill always made a point of asking me my opinion on what was happening in the world at the time. He was truly interested in what I thought and I have to say, as a young person, I was somewhat intimidated yet at the same time I tried to come up with something intelligent to say! He made me think, that’s for sure. I remember him riding his bike and stopping by to see us and I tried to anticipate what he would ask me and come up with something that I thought would be interesting to him. It amazed me when he would interject a quote from someone’s writing so quickly during our conversations. I thought he had an encyclopedia in his head! When I was a student at the U. of R. I had a part-time job as an AV tech. There was a colloquium held commemorating the anniversary of the death of Marx, held in the Board of Governors’ theatre, I was taping the event for the psych department. I was wearing headphones and monitoring the mikes when suddenly I heard, “Lorraine! What do you think?” there was Bill looking up at me and everyone was waiting for my response. I didn't know what to say, I wasn't able to follow the discussion as I was busy changing tapes and mike levels! I quickly said, “Sorry, I’m having technical problems here!” In later years we all ended up on the West Coast, my Mom and Dad (Sylvia and Don Walsh) moved to Vancouver and Bill and Marianne to Victoria and I followed with my family. We had some great visits and I will cherish them. When my Dad became ill Bill would call me regularly to ask how things were going, “how’s my football player?” he would say, and “how’s Sylvia doing?“ and “when can I come over and press the flesh?” I really appreciated his calls. I am going to miss Bill very much and I know so many people will. My thoughts are with his family, he was so proud of all of you. I like to think that he’s shooting the breeze with his football player now.
I'll miss you Bill.
Lorraine Algera -- from across the pond
Where do I begin when reflecting on my relationship with my dear friend Bill? It began forty years ago when I was a student at the University of Regina. Bill was my mentor, comrade and dear friend. Bill and I both came from a big city background, Bill from New York and I from Berlin. We shared a similar “attitude” and hit it off from day one. During the mid-seventies I joined a selective circle of students who became known as Livant’s radicals at the Regina campus. We were always on the left side of the barricades, protesting against the war, racism and other political causes. Bill’s softer side came to light when he played the piano in the classroom building lounge during class breaks. During these moments, he seemed somehow angelic, and he took us to that perfect place. I loved those moments! Bill became my M.A. supervisor, it was quite a trip! I often came out of our discussions with a heavy head, but when I calmed down and reflected on what he said, very slowly I was able to put the puzzle together. Bill always looked at the “big picture” and he taught me to think dialectically, he opened my eyes to a political Weltanschauung that has guided my life. No other teacher has influenced my intellectual development more than Bill has. It was not always easy! He expressed his views in ways that reflected the mind of an Einstein. Bill was a true Wunderkind and he expected his contemporaries to have read and analyzed every possible written word of significance. Sometimes I had to fake it, but our conversation was always profound, and what I learned from Bill was worth the long and winding road we took together. In 1989 we moved to B.C, Bill and Marianne pitched their retirement tent in Victoria, and Don, I and part of the family became water rats in Vancouver. When in 1994 I finally completed my Ph.D., Bill and Marianne send me a dozen red roses. Bill was my cheerleader, and he acknowledged my efforts and contributions in the First Nation education field. That was one subject I was one up on Bill, and he listened gladly. 1998 was a sad time when our dear friend Marianne left us, I had a special bond with her, we both originated from Berlin, and Berliners like New Yorkers have their feet solidly on the ground and say it like it is! I know that Bill loved Marianne deeply, even though he didn’t always show it. Deep down there was a sentimentalist! Bill showed his great compassion for my Don (his Football player) during our struggle with cancer. At Don’s memorial in 2006, Bill’s words touched our hearts. He loved the big guy. Bill was always there for us when we needed his support. He usually stayed over at our place for a couple of days. I know he enjoyed his “Wurscht” and something sweet. I will miss Bill terribly. I will miss his great sense of humour, his voice on the phone when he called to announce his visits from across the pond from Victoria to Vancouver with “Hey kiddo, let’s press the flesh!” I wish I could hear that again … Now that he went over to the other side, he will continue the conversation, I am sure of that! (Well Bill, even Marx said: There is more than meets the eye). Billyboy, as Bill called himself will be fondly remembered by my family and me. To have had Bill in our corner during times of struggle was a priceless gift. Bill always championed the right causes for peace, justice and self-determination, he was always a friend of the underdog, for that we should all be grateful. At this time of loss, my thoughts and sympathies are with Paul, Ben and their families, especially his grandchildren, who will miss him so. Aufwiedersehen my dear friend Bill!
Your Berlin kid, Sylvia
Those interested in Ben's reference to Marx's Theses on Feuerbach in reference to Bill can read them at http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/
1845/theses/index.htm
Here's #11:
Philosophers have hitherto only interpreted the world in various ways; the point is to change it.
Bill's death has put me into a state of shock. He was one of the people to whom I felt closest. He was one of the few people in the world whom I would call a true political comrade. In many ways Bill was my political conscience. I am in the process of writing a somewhat critical paper about the Marxist concept of revolution, and I often found myself worrying about how Bill would respond to it.
Bill embodied the spirit of the 1960's: its optimism about the future, its swaggering self confidence, its contempt for the apologetics of the existing order, its hunger for new forms of cultural expression, its refusal to be "reasonable". I will always remember that the crucial meeting at which anti-Vietnam war teach-in movement was launched took place in Bill and Marianne's living room. I can still hear Bill passionately arguing for more radical action.
Because Bill was always so full of life, it is really hard to believe he is dead. A thousand ideas jostled around in his mind at every single moment, often making it difficult for him to fully articulate even one. When you discussed almost any issue with Bill, he was always three steps ahead. Thus it was not so important for him to listen carefully because he already knew what you were going to say. When Bill got excited, which happened quite frequently, the velocity of his speech increased dramatically. This made his meaning a rather hard to understand, and some listeners stopped trying. This was a problem for me during the early days of our friendship, but I gradually learned to seize upon the main thrust of his argument and to respond to this rather than the peripheral points.
For a person who probably considered himself a committed revolutionary, Bill had an extraordinarily tender heart. His revolutionary sentiments were, in good measure, identification with the sufferings of oppressed people. On many occasions I saw him repress, or rather unsuccessfully attempt to repress, tears of empathy and anger at the cruelties endured by exploited and humiliated human beings. Bill was also exceedingly proud of his children and grandchildren. He loved to brag about them whenever an opportunity arose, or even when no opportunity presented itself. Bill loved music. He seemed to understand music at a depth that I have rarely encountered. It was in some respects his natural medium. In a certain way music could resolve and express the numerous forces contesting within his thoughts.
When I think of Bill numerous scenes from Ann Arbor, Colorado, and Victoria come to mind. I can remember walking around Burns Park (Ann Arbor) in winter with Bill half heartedly trying to look after our children while engaging in an energetic political conversation. I can remember Bill entertaining the patrons of a mountain inn near Boulder for several hours with rapid fire musical improvisations played on an ancient and out of tune piano. I can remember Bill endlessly trying to explain why dialectics was the most natural and profound way of thinking.
Bill Livant was undoubtedly one of the most brilliant human beings I have ever met. The keenness of his intuition, the speed with which he could grasp and anticipate an argument, his power of association, the richness of his imagination were all quite astonishing. But somehow Bill could never fully harness his enormous intellectual capacities. His writings are a pale and inadequate reflection of his amazing intelligence. I am not exactly sure why this gap existed. Perhaps his intellectual brilliance simply outran and overwhelmed his patience and organizational abilities. Perhaps, notwithstanding his powerful mind, Bill lacked sufficient confidence that he had really vital things to say. That he could never marshal the full extent of his intellectual capacities is a loss for all of us, particularly those of us on the political left. We are not blessed with many people like Bill Livant.
Nevertheless Bill did make an important contribution to the development of North American radicalism over the last half century. Among other things he was devoted to Monthly Review and did a great deal to spread its influence. The Michigan movement against the imperialist war in Vietnam would have been a far shallower and weaker thing without the participation of Bill Livant. He helped us all comprehend the relationship between music, dialectics, and radicalism. He showed us how to be tough and tender at the same time. He was an unforgettable character, a wonderful friend, and a deeply ethical human being. I shall always remember and love him.
In fondness and sorrow,
Tom Mayer
Boulder, Colorado
Some people look at the world as it is and ask why. Others look at the world as it should be and ask why not.
Bill was fond of quoting this snippet from GB Shaw for 2 good reasons. First, like Regina's own modern-day Socrates, he utterly embodied the second sort of person, always questioning, questioning, questioning... Second, he spent a very important life actively, compulsively even, cultivating this second sort of person.
By both his example and his pedagogy, in the classroom and outside it, Bill taught us all to open up our minds and our hearts to a different, better way of being more decent, more fully developed human beings. He taught us all to take nothing for granted, to settle for nothing less than what was right and to question everything always. Like Socrates, i suppose, this made Bill exhausting to be around at times, but exhilirating too.
As Che said, every true revolutionary is motivated by love and bill truly loved teaching, a praxis of human development that was far more profound than any of the hackneyed phraseology of the cause-of-the week clubs.
As brilliant a teacher as Bill was, and as fervent a marxist as he was, Bill was more than that. He was a "radical" humanist, which, as he liked to say, derived from the latin for "getting to the root of something" and at the root of things for bill was always the cause of human development. This was his non-negotiable bottom line against which all else was measured.
While positivist psychology was drifting into neo-behaviourist and biological determinism (or 'rat psychology' as he liked to call it) on the one-hand and slap-happy, New Age self-actualization theory on the other, bill's eyes were always on the prize, pushing forward vygotsky and activity theory and reminding us constantly that 'what you work on works on you.'
He was a man who often startled, and troubled us because he truly lived in another time zone, in 'historical time,' and was preoccupied always with making history, a btter history, a more humane history in which people would be more free to be all that they could be.
he challenged marxist orthodoxy with his insistence on the importance of labour (and human activity generally) as a mode of self-development, and the subjective, the emotional, the emergent potential (and suppressed potential) of knowledgeable, creative people (engaged in activity in relationships and communities).
He challenged psychology with his emphasis on the importance of the social context of human development and pathology but also on our inherently social being.
indeed, he was a revolutionary revolutionary, rejecting disciplinary silos and all the economism and reductionism of positivized and stalinized marxisms in favour of a humanitarian radicalism that really centred on the essence of human potential rather than a crude and thoughtless communism.
he was, obviously, a very gifted and much loved teacher of mine.
i still remember my first social psychology class with him. he embodied everything a liberal arts education should be: challenging, critical, provocative., audacious, overwhelming, transformative...
i still remember, and often cite, the trademark lesson he called "livant's cure for baldness:" shrink your head to fit the hair you have left.
in this, livant was a cultural revolutionary, always planting his feet firmly on that archimidean point of independent, critical thought against the monsoon of junk culture, and establishment convention and intellectual orthodoxy.
If it wasn't for Bill I would likely have never left my lousy warehouse job to finish my honours paper. If it wasn't for Bill I likely wouldn't have seen the point of doing my MA or PhD or the papers we launched and which he never failed to inquire about. prairie dog and planet s weren't his beloved monthly review, but he recognized them for what they were, the reflection and realization of the community's pent-up creative potential and unfolding development. All these achievements were in large part his achievements too, and I expect many of his students have also been pressed by bill's 'why not?' questions to do more and do different in important ways.
I often credit Bill with teaching me to think critically but act generously. He taught me much more than that. I've missed him a great deal since he moved to Victoria and I miss him all the more now. But I know that he'd take some consolation in the fact that his spirit is still at work through his students, in the classroom and in the community, as they continue to look at the world as it should be and ask why not.
i'm a better person, and this is a better world, for having had bill to stimulate, support, provoke, challenge and shape us.
My fondest memories of Bill include his piano artistry exhibited on his grand piano at home. Without warning he was likely to wander over to the piano and launch into a beautifully rendered classical piece. Usually the music was effervescent, like his personality. He consistently made his guests feel at home and welcome with his open, friendly and cheerful attitude. Always a pleasure to visit his home, the visit was made ever so enjoyable by the warm, cheerful smile and kind words of Marianne. The world is a sadder place with both of them not in it, but the memories of their voyage through Regina do linger on.
Myron Kuziak
From Wilma Riley (Pender Island, BC): June 16, 2008
I will miss him terribly. I treasured his friendship. "Hi kid," he would greet me and then would ensue the most stimulating conversation. "Here, read this," and he would hand me a book with a passage marked which I would sometimes read aloud. It was a comforting thought that he was there, just across the water from me, still engaged, intellectually and morally, with the problems of the world. He never gave up on humanity. I would visit him and receive some spiritual sustenance although he would maintain his materialism in everything. Bill was an optimist. I, a pessimist, but we agreed that the world for human beings would never become better without the engagement and struggle of committed and concerned human beings. He was solidly grounded in material dialectics and he was like a rock. I am still struggling to realise that his presence is gone. His passing is a loss to his family, his friends and to the left struggle. Too soon he was gone. In loving remembrance, Wilma
June 17, 2008
Our thoughts are with you in this time of sorrow. We will miss seeing Bill out and about on his regular walks through the neighbourhood.
Bill was a dear friend, mentor, teacher and elder. We had a connection right from the beginning of his teaching career at Regina. When we formed the Prairie Fire Collective and needed a place to use as an office and workplace. Bill and Marianne offered us their basement in the fall of 1969. We had many political discussions late at night putting out the Fire.
Bill had an amazing intellect. Although I was not a Psych student I often audited his lectures. I could not let my mind wander for even an instant because he could make thought leaps that if you missed them you didn't know how he got to his next thought.
Bill didn't just play piano for his students, when we had Faculty of Arts meetings he would play the appropriate theme music for the various faculty as they entered the room. It was soon after he played Rule Britannia for the Dean, Sir Edgar Vaughn they removed the piano from the room.
The world has lost a mensch
Barry Lipton
(Ward's Island, Toronto, ON)
I have a deep appreciation of Bill's enthusiastic support of our theatre company, and his words of encouragement were so much appreciated!
Clayton Jevne
(Victoria, BC)
Bill was a fine man and a committed educator. His sharp wit and fine sense of humor will truly be missed.
Scott Wilson (Caron, SK)
Bill was such a force of nature that it's hard to believe he's gone.
Alison Hayford (Regina, SK)
I only had the pleasure of spending a bit of time with Bill. He was wonderful, sharp, witty and very personable. I really enjoyed chatting
with him... perhaps the correct word is bantering... he was lots of fun and charming to boot.
Katherine Christensen
(Gananoque, ON)
Bill and I were colleagues for many years. Although our disciplines were different, we shared a common outlook on what the social sciences should be about.
Among the many people I have known, Bill was one of the most gifted intellectuals I had the joy of encountering. I learned much from him and if his irrepressible tendency to gallop off in all directions at the same time could, at times, be irritating, his warmth and sense of mischief never failed to redeem him.
I recall one event. It was about to be a tense and acrimonious meeting of the Faculty of Arts and Sciences at the University of Regina. We convened in a large lecture theatre, at the front of which was a piano. As the Dean – Sir Edgar Vaughn – entered from on high, Bill dashed to the piano and played Elgar's LAND OF HOPE AND GLORY. The right wingers were infuriated by this act of impudence. The left had to repress their laughter. The Dean later allowed that this was one of his favorite pieces.
There was another occasion. I was at Bill's place in Regina. I asked him to play Bach. He went to the piano and played Hayden, then Mozart, then Chopin. Exasperated I exclaimed, “Bach, you bugger and if you don't oblige, I am drinking my whiskey and I am out of here!” Bill obliged.
James McCrorie
(Regina, SK)
Bill – his passion for life, for The Arts, for issues, for justice, for us all, for LIFE! He was a brightly shining star. I remember seeing Bill often along the bank of Wascana Creek, with his coffee mug, contemplating... on many a morning – and then appreciated getting to know him much better as an adult here. I think he saw me as Edmund ever after, from the time in the early 90s when he and Marianne and Tess and Warren came up to see “King Lear” at Shawnigan Lake. He'll be missed by many.
Cam Culhum
(Victoria, BC)
Bill and Marianne and their boys, Paul and Ben, arrived in Regina the year after Jo, Eric and I did with the hope of building a university in which knowledge could be put to use by a population willing to challenge capitalism. We had worked in the anti-war, integration and civil liberties struggles throughout our own university education and we welcomed the relative freedom from cold war hysteria we experienced here. What we found, of course, was that there was no escape from the diseases of late stage capitalism. And what we put our efforts to thereafter was participating with fellow Canadians in the campaigns of our lifetime on behalf of the continuing socialist struggle. Bill and Marianne were loyal to that task and their names will rank with the multitude who lived and worked, contributing their special talents, to the cause of human liberation. It is an honour to count them among our comrades.
Joe and Sheila Roberts
(Regina, SK)
Ken and I liked and admired Bill and Marianne very much. Marianne was just back from Chiapas when I talked with her for the last time. I miss her still. Now, after a lifetime of study, teaching and inspiring people in all walks of life, Bill – a force of nature! - leaves us all with good memories and an example of unwavering commitment to social justice. Truly a life well lived.
Andrée and Ken Scott
(Victoria, BC)
What an appalling loss the first stroke inflicted on Bill in 1993. I always found it amazing that he found the strength to reconstruct his life. And also quite marvelous after Marianne's death.
Susi Dell
(London, UK)
Of all the cards in my stash, I thought this was the most appropriate for Bill:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/one43/352156482/in/set-72157594470270280/
Tom Mayer
(Boulder, Colorado)
Bill and Marianne were noticeable forces in my life at an important time.
Coming into late adolescence, when consciousness really accelerates, having Bill in Regina as an engaging example of political conviction outside the “normal” and an astonishing example of just how gifted a person can be...
Marianne gave me my first dance classes. 'nuff said. That she was always positive and shining is what I remember the most. She always lifted us up.
Just when one's growing to know there's a world out there, I met them and could see through them what a world could be. Cachet of east-coast intellectual, art awareness and participation across the boards... and hey, they came to small-town Saskatchewan. So “out there” wasn't something to read about, scrounged for in libraries and magazines, it was right here. So there was a way to go.
Robert Clinton
(Edmonton, Alberta)
Special was our “Billy Boy” - “Billy Boy here, calling from across the water,” would greet me as I lifted up the receiver most Saturdays or Sundays.
Ebullient, enthusiastic, ever curious, always thinking, wondrously finding brightness even in a grey sky. It was all there when I watched him play Bach on my last visit.
I shall miss him. Miss him.
Mordecai and Liz Briemberg
(Vancouver, BC)
Here are a few tributes to Bill that came to us from the Regina area in hand-written cards.
BARRY BARLOW wrote:
The obituary in The Leader Post was perfect. How Bill would have loved it! What he meant to his family and friends was extraordinary.
CALLA-DAWN BROOKS wrote:
I remember him as a passionate pianist who welcomed me into his home where he shared some good stories and love for jazz. He was a dynamic, charismatic man. I'm very grateful to have met him.
ANNE CAMPBELL wrote:
He will be sincerely missed.
SHARON KLEMKE wrote:
Bill was really an exceptional man in his time. I really like the line in the obit about how he maintained a committed solidarity with the students – less popular with administration. This also reminds me of Gabe Prendergast – the students came first.
Here are a number of tributes to Bill that came to us in hand-written cards from around Victoria.
VERONICA & TERRY MARNER wrote:
We enjoyed hearing his wonderful piano playing at the wedding of Monica and Ben. We know how committed he was to his political beliefs. He will be missed.
KATHY HUMPHRY wrote:
I read Mr. Livant's obituary and was impressed by the fullness of his life, and the richness of his contribution to humanity.
GRAHAM & JEAN DRAGUSHAN wrote:
We have wonderful memories of the great gatherings in Bill and Marianne's house years ago, filled with music and fun. Bill was such a character – he will be missed.
MAUREEN, RANDY & ANGELA KANEEN wrote:
We'll miss him in the neighbourhood!
BILL CARROLL & FAMILY wrote:
We are deeply saddened by Bill's death but happy to have know such a wise and wonderful person.
ELIZABETH & HOWARD LIPTROT wrote:
We always enjoyed speaking with him as we passed his house, and will miss him.
VERA & KEITH COSTAIN wrote:
We will miss him – he was a great character and we enjoyed our spirited conversations with him from time to time.
MICHAEL & CHRISTINE BLOOMFIELD wrote:
He was an original and will be missed.
SHARON & CHARLES DURRANT wrote:
Bill's daily “Pinewood Promenade” and witty remarks will be greatly missed.
SAUL ARBESS & PENNY JOY wrote:
A man we loved has passed on. He will be missed and remembered.
I first met the Livants when I was still a teenager. As we were immigrants who grew up away from extended family, I finally found a "home away from home" at their place, and kind of uncle and aunt figures in Bill and Marianne. Our connection as family was made legal when his son Ben married my sister Monica, but I've always considered them all as family and always will.
One thing I'll never forget is a phone message Bill once left for me, can't remember what it was about, but he finished off saying
"love love love"...something my room-mates at the time thought was hilarious. But it actually became part of our vernacular, and I still say it to this day...
I realize now, with regret that can only come in hindsight I guess, that I've been wrapped up in my own young family's life and haven't spent a lot of time talking with Bill as I had in the past. My most recent memories of him involve his solidarity with me while I was on strike for three months last year. He was someone who definitely wanted to hear how it was going long after all my other friends and family were sick of the whole topic. I appreciated how he followed the strike and sought out my opinions on things he had read in the media.
His sudden passing will take some time to process, as in, I can't quite believe he won't actually come upstairs and join us for a meal this weekend. It's like that with family...I will miss my "uncle-in-law"...
love, love, love
Tess
An old friend, long out-of-touch, who met Bill and Marianne in Ann Arbor and got to know them in Regina. What an amazing man! Twinkling eyes and wit. A gifted and profound teacher and provocateur.
Donna Goodman
(San Francisco,CA)
Bill was a classmate and close friend during our high school days. He was, in many ways, the class radical. I didn't agree with everything he had to say, but I found his willingness to say it inspirational.
One small event: We were in an Honors English class together, and the teacher, trying to inspire us to appreciation of poetry, had each of us produce a "book beautiful", i.e., we were to paste favorite poems in a scrapbook and illustrate them. Bill thought this was an imbecile assignment, was not at all shy about saying so, refused to do it, and in its place submitted an essay on Shelley's "Prometheus Bound" (or was it "Prometheus Unbound"?) At any rate, it was well beyond what any of the rest of us were doing, so the teacher accepted it.
My parents had an excellent record collection, mostly 78's, and there were many that I had never listened to. When Bill discovered this, he would come visit me bearing chamber music scores, and lead me through my own record collection.
It was at his urging that I read Tom Paine's "Age of Reason", another inspirational eye-opener. I'm sorry that we lost contact after college; I miss the intellectual sparks.
Norman Bauman
(Tomkins Cove, NY)
I loved having Bill as a first cousin from start to finish. As kids he was always full of fascinating and entertaining plans, information and cheer. At Swarthmore he was more of an encouraging big brother, and some of the glow of his music, writing, and academic (psychology and economic) creativity rubbed off on me. He always seemed to keep track of what I was doing and always had something good to say. Many of his friends became mine. I treasured the connection and will miss him.
Judith Rapoport
(Washington, DC)
Bill has been a non-blood-parent through our relationship. Beethoven has said: MUSIC IS THE HIGHEST SACRAMENT GIVEN FROM HEAVEN, HIGHER THAN EVERY KNOWLEDGE OR PHILOSOPHY. This word has Bill incorporated through his life. Others may speak about his political activities, for me he was the “Maestro.” Never I will forget what music brought us together.
TRAUTE
(Porto Allegre, Brazil )
I am really going to miss Bill. I always looked forward to our conversations. While I did not get a job in Victoria several years ago, I felt very pleased with my interview, given that I came away from the visit with a good friend. Over the years, I received regular phone calls from Bill, as he shared his thoughts about what he was reading, thinking, and doing. I learned a great deal from him, given the penetrating questions that he would ask and the reflections that he would share. He constantly encouraged me in my work and life. I deeply appreciated his humanity and humor. I found Bill to be a wonderful comrade. I feel deeply fortunate that I was able to know him and to share so many moments with him.
Brett Clark
(Raleigh, North Carolina)
Bill was one of the most talented people I ever knew. He was a terrific pianist and could actually read an orchestral score at the piano! I remember Dick was trying to prepare something but there was no piano reduction, so Bill read it through with him. I think he made some of it up, but it all worked.
Elizabeth Raum
(Regina, SK)
It was very interesting to read the obituary and realize what a vibrant and productive life he and Marianne had. Bill's presence in all pro-social justice events will be missed.
Lina DeGuevara
(Victoria, BC)
Bill was an incredible inspiration to me growing up. He played piano while I sang and he made odd sounds with his mouth. This would go on for hours and he never seemed bored. The last time I saw him was at my mom's memorial in September. He was a light to me on a very dark day. He told me stories about mom and gave me a much needed hug. He had been there way way back in the beginning when all the lefties migrated to the prairies together. I don't know what you believe but I feel happy that he is with Marianne again. Him playing and her dancing. Maybe my mom is with them fighting about Mao. Who knows? I hope so.
Shoshana Sperling
(Toronto, ON)
I will always think of Bill as "one of Brooklyn's best"- such a brilliant, exuberant and loving soul. He loved his family so very much and always "kvelled" when speaking of you. He was a great guy and a treasured friend.
Annie Kaslow
(Brooklyn, NY)
I am very saddened by this news. I had been looking forward to seeing Bill on my next trip to Victoria. I think he was something of an institution for us all, and lots of great spirit. He always had and will keep a very special place in my heart.
Radhika Desai
(Winnipeg, Manitoba)
Regina didn't know what hit it when Marianne and Bill arrived! I will remember both of them fondly and with full intention of capturing at least part of their feisty engagement in life!
Leslie Dyer
(Vancouver, BC)
He was a wonderful man, unique and truly himself. He lived fully and that is a grand thing in life.
Kate Rubin
(Victoria, BC)
I'm so sorry to hear of Bill's death – such a shock and really quite impossible to believe. He was such a larger than life person.
Kirsten Costain Schou
(Heggadal, Norway)
It's a sad time for everyone. Bill was a most generous soul, particularly appreciated by me when he let me practice on his gorgeous piano! And as I recall, he was even kind enough to tell me my playing was nice. They say that the spirits of great musicians always live on in their instruments, so there you are! He will always be with us, and the kids were lucky to have him as a granddad for as long as they did.
Kathy Prendergast
(Hua-in, China)
I wish I had seen Bill more often and taken more time to get to know him and his work better. Whenever I did see him, I was touched by both his compassionate interest and his brilliant intellect. He was a very special person and I know that he has given his family great things to cherish forever.
We met Bill when he came to fetch us from the train station in Regina on June 12, 1968 and looked after us while we organized our four children and 18 pieces of luggage. Much water has flowed under the bridge since then and through it all we retain not only loving but familiar memories of Bill and Marianne who were close to use because there was at least some shared memories. Even when Josef and Bill were in disagreement about practically everything, the closeness remained. On one occasion, Bill said to Josef that he should have become a rabbi and J countered with suggesting that B should have been a concert pianist. Even after we visited Bill in Victoria after Marianne's death, when Bill had had his little cry, they soon resumed an obscure political argument. I say "obscure" because they both of course had the same end in mind: peace and harmony for all.
Monica & Josef Shubert
(Regina, SK)
Bill and Marianne, my sister, met at Tanglewood one summer in the late 50’s when he was taking a composition, or maybe a conducting course with Lenny Bernstein. She was attending a choral workshop. We have his description of the girl with the wheat-gold hair that he encountered there. I remember the freckled redhead practically foaming with exuberance, who burst in on us one Madrigal evening soon after they met.
Bill’s incredible musical energy and ability to comprehend and absorb a piece of music at a glance was a joy to everyone who had the good fortune, as I did, to make music with him. Later, as he mellowed, he also displayed great patience and humanity as well as his ever present enthusiasm.
It was wonderful after Marianne’s dancing career came to such a dramatic end to see the two of them working together building Marianne’s singing competence, confidence and ambitious repertoire. After Bill’s stroke, roles reversed. I’ll never forget the two of them playing a two part invention together each of them taking one part – one hand!
And I remember the friendship that grew up between my Bill and hers through my Bill’s love of song and the other Bill’s love of accompaniment. They’d go off together for hours into the music room and roam through Schubert, Dowland and Britten, the works. They had planned a joint recital that Fall – 1993 – but my Bill died in August. Her Bill had his stroke in September.
Connie Sattler
Sister-in-Law
(Moodus, Connecticut)
Despite political disagreements, Bill was always found to be on the correct side of the barricades. Elaine and I express our profound sense of loss at Bill's death.
Bob Lyons
Regina, SK)
A Gift in the Name of William Livant has been made to the American Diabetes Association by Nett & Rick Richter.
As part of the Million Trees NYC initiative of the New York Restoration Project, a tree sapling has been planted in honor of Bill Livant by Ann Kaslow.
Bill was a very good friend to us. As we knew him, he was a man of extraordinary wit and vitality, the man who came to visit us in Regina in late winter wearing shorts and hiking boots, the man for whom mankind has first and foremost to be understood as part of nature producing and reproducing itself by walking and handling. But he was also the man who seemed to keep nature at bay by will, intellect and irony. ow well I remember how he fought back after his first stroke.
I first met Bill in Regina, where I had a one-year teaching appointment in Political Science in 1988-1989. After a meeting about the upcoming Socialist Studies conference, Bill and I got to talking about dialectics. When he heard that I was working on Lukács' ontology, as well as Christopher Caudwell, he got quite excited. We met regularly thereafter and had many long and fascinating conversations. Bill was extremely helpful to me in shaping several conference papers and articles. He was as helpful to my wife, Michelle Weinroth, who was then completing her doctoral dissertation on William Morris.
When we moved away from Regina, Bill drove us to the airport at seven o'clock in the morning. As we drank coffee together while waiting for our flight, Bill explained to us the dialectical approach to Zeno's paradoxes. No occasion was inappropriate for intellectual inquiry. No object in the universe was foreign to him or unworthy of thought. Everything was one, but divided. To grasp it required engaging with the world and finding those with whom such engagement could be possible.
I think of a passage of a letter he wrote to Capitalism Nature Socialism when that journal was just starting up: “I just want to say that I hope CNS doesn't become 'too academic' too fast. It shouldn't be just for a 'technical elite.' Maybe struggling human bodies ought to be our target audience. After all, they are laying their bodies on the line. Where your body is, there your mind will have to come, sooner or later. Analysis ought to help to make it sooner.” Always focused on the everyday experience of working people, Bill had a remarkable ability to take apparently simple, even trivial, phenomena and show with great profundity the contradictions they harboured and their broader significance. Bill embodied a truly philosophical mind.
Bill was a very supportive friend and mentor for me; he always saw things others did not and was able to help me work things out. In my work to this day, I regularly ask myself how Bill would state a question. I do not have his insight or depth, but I try to follow his inspiration. He was a wonderful and exceptional friend and teacher, who will always be in my thoughts.
Paul Leduc Browne
(Ottawa, ON)
I just learned about Bill's passing, so forgive me if I ramble a bit.
I've been through a lot of ups and downs in my 43 years, and the other morning I was pondering the question: when was the best, most interesting, happiest time in my life? Without question, my years in Regina are right up there at the top. I took those years for granted at the time, but some 20 years on, I'm quite comfortable saying that my decision to attend the University of Regina (1985 - 89) was the best life decision I've ever made. Bill was a key link in that decision. The link came via my father, Charles Tolman, who introduced me to Bill, who in turn set me up with a great group of folks in a co-op house in the Cathedral District (Barry Lipton, David Lethbridge, Ketih Cowan, et al.). Throughout this period, Bill was the center of it all. He seemed to transcend the stodginess of academia while at the same time being highly academic. Whether it be on the steps of our Robinson Street house in the summer, or in the Livants' lovely backyard, or stopping by his U of R office (I smell the sweet pipe tobacco just thinking about it), he had an omnipresent aura, and always had rich food for thought. From the dialectics of a knot on a piece of rope, to his prophetic predictions about the politics of water and globalization, he was a huge influence on all of us. And not just in the political sense. Bill was a person, unlike other profs, I always felt I could confide in. And I did, many times. Yes, sometimes he annoyed me and talked me into an glaze-eyed trance, but this is more a testament to his vibrant, eccentric, fascinating character than it is a comment about me or my sometimes fragile attention span.
I helped Bill and Marianne move some of their stuff out to Victoria when they left Regina. And in the years the followed, I was delighted to have the Livant influence right here in my home town (Victoria). It was as though I'd brought a significant piece of the Regina ethos back to the coast with me.
As the years went by in Victoria I drifted in and out of the scene, and regrettably Bill was among the many I slowly lost contact with. I moved to Japan in 2002, and ended up living there for the better part of the next 5 years. But the omnipresent Livant had always lingered in my thought processes. It took me a while to get my roots re-planted when I eventually did return to Victoria, but for one reason or another, I never got a chance to re-connect with Bill. I had a lot of stories from Asia to share, which no doubt would have had him reflecting back on his favourite tales of peasant revolutions led by Mao and other Asian insurgencies. And I would have, as usual, listened, for hours, with a raised ears and a very big smile.
Thus, it's with great sadness and regret that I now learn that I won't have a last chance to sit on his step again and hear him ramble on about the dialectics of this, the dialectics of that, or life generally.
Sorry I missed you, Bill. You had a big influence on my life, and will continue to influence me.
To the remaining Livant family, my heartfelt condolences to you. You've not only lost a great father, but a great, warm, kind man, whose influence was far reaching.
Sincerely,
Peter Tolman
Victoria, BC
In late 1982 I received a phone call from Bill Livant. He wanted me to come to Regina for a lecture. He had read my review of Lewis Brandt’s then recent book and wanted me to elaborate on the theoretical basis of my criticisms. I knew that Lewis was also at Regina and imagined that he would join in the discussion. Unfortunately, I found myself innocently caught up in some local and less-than-amicable politics. I learned how intense Bill was about his mission, often to the point of ignoring diplomacy. But to a large extent Bill and I shared that mission. The styles differed but the content was the same. So that was the beginning of a very complex, fascinating, and sometimes uneasy relationship. Whenever I think of Bill now, two things come immediately to mind. The first was his astonishing musical ability. On one of my several visits with Bill and Marianne in Regina, I was upstairs resting when I heard Chopin. As I listened, I realized that it could not be the stereo and went downstairs to investigate. There was Bill, fingers flying, totally engrossed in the music. I was flabbergasted. He had never spoken to me of music before. I had no idea that behind all the talk of dialectics lay such an enormous musical talent. The second thing that comes to mind is that length of rope he seemed always to carry in his pocket, ready to be whipped out and knotted to illustrate the dialectic. Discussions seemed always to come sooner or later to the nature of the dialectic. At just the right moment, out came the rope, the knot was tied, and enlightenment was assured.
I have been doing a lot of reflecting on my life in recent years and have thought about putting together a list of people who, other than my immediate family, were significant in my own development, beginning with Mrs. Beers, my kindergarten teacher. Bill will be on that list.
Charles Tolman
I'm sorry to hear about Bill's passing. I can still recall his distinct voice and Brooklyn accent, all these miles away in Canberra from Victoria, where I knew him from his appearance and intelligent remarks and questions at activist meetings (Sept 2001 - May 2003).
Rest In Peace, Bill.
Gaik Khoo
On my first phone conversation with Bill, maybe 25 years ago, we mutually established through dialect analysis, that we had grown up a few blocks from each other in Brooklyn. From there it was a simple step to dialectical analysis. Nobody ever surpassed Bill's insight contained in his little essay, or rather, in the title thereof, that the key notion was the "Hole in Hegel's Bagel": a fantastic glimpse into the negativity of the dialectic, worthy of a Buddhist master.
Bill and I also co-chaired a Socialist Scholar's Conference panel on Ernst Bloch. Who cared about Ernst Bloch? Bill Livant, that's who!, passionately and playfully. He was the purest and the funniest thinker I ever knew, and the most serious about thinking, which he saw as necessary to save the world. I fear that his like will not be seen again; it passes away with the playful universality which Jewish culture could achieve before wrecked by the great blight signified by Zionism.
Ave Atque Vale, Livant!
joel k
After I wrote the preceding comment, I read through the others, and was struck by the observation--which recalled a similar thought of my own--that Bill, for all his brilliance, and for reasons I for one do not know, hesitated before writing the extended exposition of his ideas which the world sorely needs. I wonder, then, is there a way to go through his papers and organize them in such a manner that the outline at least of such a work would emerge? Can a committee of sorts be brought forward to look into this and ways of its implementation? I would like to share in that.
Joel Kovel
jskovel@earthlink.net
Bill and I met only a few times but enjoyed each other through writings and e-mail. My first memory of him was his proposal for a National Guinea Pigs Union sometime in the late 60's or 70's. Perhaps among the most memorable things about him is his vibrant joy in whatever he was doing, a mischievous glee in thwarting the pretentiousness of the rulers, an insatiable curiosity fueled by the question "what if it isn't?". He was a towering proof that the life of a revolutionary can be fun. And one of his greatest regrets on dying must have been that he won't see how it all turns out. Hasta luego.
Richard Levins
(Cambridge, MA)
I have been thinking of Bill and Marianne. I have such strong and wonderful memories of them, not just the political debates and learning and eccentricity, but the piano, dancing, laughing, the dialectical knot, great kindness and fun.
The first time I met Bill was at Connaught Library when he dropped off Paul to participate in a program that Doris Rands and I had put together. One of the kids asked him, “What is smarter, a human or a dog?” Bill responded, “Relative to what?” Did anyone ever get a straight answer? I was fascinated. Before long, he had a circle of kids around him talking about monkeys and goats and whatever animal they could think of. Which one was smarter, they kept asking? And so it went. Needless to say, that first meeting led to a lifetime of friendship.
When my children were born – Kate and Patrick – Bill was the first to phone the hospital. He told me that Kate was born on the day that Benjamin Britten died and that his son, Ben, was named after him. I don't recall a story about a Patrick but I do remember the beautiful flowers he left at the hospital.
In 1980, my husband, John, and I were driving to Kingston to do a Master's degree at Queen's. I was very ill on the drive, and as we arrived in Winnipeg my appendix burst and I ended up in the hospital for 10 days. I still don't know how he found out, but Bill phoned the hospital to offer us money, moral support, and a plane ticket for me to complete the trip. We didn't accept but I have never forgotten his kindness. He phoned a couple of times during my stay just to make sure we were all right.
In the late 1970s, John and I took a year off and traveled throughout Europe, including Eastern Europe. We were overwhelmed with evidence of loss caused by the war, and war crimes. In Leningrad, we walked through a cemetery that held the remains of hundreds of people who had died during the siege, all in graves marked only by year. On returning to our hotel, I wrote to Bill to express my pain about our experience through Poland and the Leningrad cemetery. When we got back to Moscow, we went to the Canadian Embassy to check for mail. There was a letter from Bill responding to my previous letter. He told of Marianne, then Fischer, just 10 years old, being sent by her parents to England in 1938 to escape the coming Holocaust in Germany. He went on to say that in 1965 the Livant family lived in Poland while he was a visiting professor at the University of Warsaw, that he and Marianne went to see Auschwitz, that there was by coincidence a suitcase in the display with a tag that read: “Marianne Fischer AGE 12.” I could only imagine how it affected their lives, and later the lives of Paul and Ben. As for me, the story helped frame my life and obliged me to make it worthwhile.
I always believed that Bill and Marianne made life worth living. They were talented, intellectual, out of the mold teachers of so many things. And yes, I know the eccentricities were sometimes a problem. I don't know if Paul and Ben remember phoning John and I to come over and sort out their dad, who had nailed statements about Davin School on all the trees in the neighborhood. I can't remember the circumstances but I do remember the problem for Paul and Ben.
I could go on. There is a story for every day of the week, and every week of the year. I just wanted to express that Bill and Marianne are in my heart – and knowing them was a gift to me.
Faye Rafter
(Regina, SK)
Looking back, The University of Michigan and Ann Arbor in the late fifties and early sixties was Camelot.
I met Bill on my first airplane flight ever from NY to Detroit while he was hawking the aisles to find people who might want to share a ride to Ann Arbor. He asked how my first flight felt and since it was not too exciting he reminded me that if I had expected the sensation of whirling through space that I should remember how fast the planet is moving and we don’t feel it at all. Bill was a year ahead of me and living in a different co-op. We met on the touch football intramurals and at the enormous psyc and soc parties in which he played the piano and we sang and where the annual spoofing skits had to use the talents of one guy who could juggle and ride a unicycle. We all got supported with teaching and research appointments. We sometimes visited the Old German pub and sang rounds.
Bill was among the brightest people I ever met and one of the most undisciplined. Psychology was too easy for him. He immediately saw through BF Skinner’s behaviorism and with his special ability to capture the essence of good ideas he explained how Chomsky had demonstrated that we were wired to do grammar, not discovering it through a bunch of rewards for the grunts we generated by chance.
Not all that impressed with his field, Bill picked up the ideas that explained the most him. He was an intellectual Marxist and his activism showed more in his willingness to engage anyone in conversation than in organized group efforts. He handed out clever pieces he wrote on the illogic of deterrence and sought out some of the brighter minds at the U of M - Kenneth Boulding whose humor and imagery were like Bill’s and Anatol Rapoport who masterfully brought together the topics of strategy, conflict and conscience.
We were in Ann Arbor when the civil rights movement was beginning and with the start of protest against testing atomic weapons. Bill proudly wore one the first buttons of SANE. When people asked, “Are you sure?” he got the chance to present the case to ban the bomb. Even the door to door encyclopedia salesman had to withstand Bill’s question of why he should buy when they were using some Defense Department nonsense to define fallout shelters. Our political awakening came as Students for Democratic Society grew in our midst and came to a frenzied point with opposition to the Vietnam War. He was in the original group that created the very first teach-in ever and the critical meeting that spawned the event was in his house.
Ann Arbor was also the place we all became couples, then parents, then Ph.Ds, owners of a first new car. For some of us this was a Rambler, the first effort to go smaller, for Bill it was a Checker, the taxi company model. Bill and Marianne came out with two sons. Bill had urged that their names be Fidel and Patrice, but Marianne prevailed in letting the boys create their own identities, so they got more common names taken from contemporary musicians; Paul Hindemith and Benjamin Britten.
The gang split to schools all over and we had much less contact although he did visit us in Berkeley and much later we made a couple of great trips to Victoria. Tom Mayer, Bill and I became a group of informal communicators commenting on issues and discussing the legacies of Boulding and Rapoport. Bill helped to bring out the child in all of us. He was always the bright very well read dilettante, recognizing the absurdities of the powerful without malice while caring deep down for what is in the heart of people.
His encouragement of my wife Phyllis with her poetry was just wonderful and he saw bits of wisdom in simple texts and simple language. Bill once read my mind to ask what I was thinking, “How come someone as smart as you hasn’t gotten somewhere important?” I don’t recall his answer but I think the question was wrong. Bill was one of a kind, absolutely unique. He knew so much, saw through bullshit so easily, stood for what he believed in, shared an uplifting optimism and twinkle, kept a kind and friendly engagement with every person and every flower he met. If that is not greatness then the rest of us just do not have our priorities right.
Peace.
Marc Pilisuk
(Berkeley, CA)
New York Times Death Notice: Published June 22, 2008
LIVANT--Bill, 24 May 19322 June 2008. ''Easy to look like Einstein; a lot harder to think like him.'' His death is weightier than Mount Tai.
Excerpt from a letter to MICHIGAN TODAY (Fall 2000)
I remember Bill Livant. He was a psychologist at the Fresh Air Camp in 1957 when I worked in the kitchen. He was too radical for me. Next fall, I was walking across the Diag when I encountered Bill mounting a silent protest against something the government was doing. A Naval ROTC cadet walked up to Bill and spat in his face. I was incensed. I grabbed the cadet and told him that he was a disgrace to his uniform. He scurried away.
John H. Wilde
(Greenwood, SC)
Excerpt from "Notes From The Editors," in MONTHLY REVIEW (Volume 60, Number 3, July-August 2008)
We are sad to report that our good friend and indefatigable supporter of MONTHLY REVIEW,Bill Livant, died at the age of seventy-six in his home city of Victoria, British Colombia on Monday June 2, after suffering a stroke the previous week. It is impossible to explain the brilliance and wit that Bill brought to the understanding of dialectics and a wide range of issues from Darwinian evolution to political economy. Bill had called each of the editors of this special issue individually within the past few weeks (at this writing) to provide his thoughts on various projects they were engaged in: this special issue, their forthcoming Monthly Review Press book, CRITIQUE OF INTELLIGENT DESIGN, and the question of stagnation/financialization. He will be deeply missed. (See the box on Bill in this issue.)
For those interested in looking at Bill Livant’s work, three of his short articles (“I’ll Make You an Offer You Can’t Refuse,” “The Dialectics of Walking on Two Legs,” and “Livant’s Cure for Baldness,” previously published in SCIENCE & SOCIETY) appear in a new book edited by Bertell Ollman and Tony Smith, DIALECTICS FOR THE NEW CENTURY (Palgrave Macmillan, 2008). (Other contributors to the book, besides Bill and the book’s editors, include: Richard Levins, John Bellamy Foster, Lucien Sève, David Harvey, Frederick Jameson, István Mészáros, Michael Löwy, Thomas T. Sekine, Christopher J. Arthur, Nancy Hartsock, Joel Kovel, and Ira Gollobin.)
[CORRECTION: There are four articles by Bill Livant in DIALECTICS FOR THE NEW CENTURY, the fourth being; "The Hole in Hegel's Bagel."]
Excerpt from “Introduction: The Badder The Better,” in Bad Subjects (Issue #8, October 1993)
Our current e-mail list hovers around two hundred subscribers from four continents; these voices contribute to our conversations in surprising and often fruitful ways. Once in a while we get some praise. Thanks to online correspondent Bill Livant for the encouraging words (and the title of this editorial): 'We on the left are not braver than others. But we must try to see a little further and a little clearer... Good luck to Bad Subjects: The badder the better.'
Ron Alcalay and Steven Rubio
(Issue Editors)
I met Bill Livant in 1995 at a lecture at UVic. I had only been at the university for maybe six months by that time. I had, however, been on the lookout for Bill Livant, as described by David Lethbridge, my psychology professor and mentor from Okanagan College, who had been Bill’s student in Regina. David described Bill as,”not a 19th century style professor”, a man who walked with a cane and who had had a stroke, and “Bill will talk your ear off”. I still remember seeing this character with a cane teetering around the ’free lunch’ table and thinking, “Hey, that must be Bill Livant.” It was. I introduced myself. We hit it off right away, and by the time he was done telling me his schtick, I was already invited down to his place sometime soon to ‘press the flesh’ and let him know what I thought of the article in the issue of Monthly Review that he had handed me. We became good friends, and remained so over the years, with my coming and going to different schools and jobs in and out of Victoria. My partner Donna and I met at his house. We shared many a meatloaf.
We ALL know Bill was a great talker. One of the first things he ever said to me, after he had began to ‘talk my ear off’, on that first day we met, was: “I’m a New York Jew, we never give up the floor, ‘cause we won’t get it back”. A joke I would hear numerous times over the years from Bill, usually issued with the wink of an eye, as if to include a hint of apology. I suppose that when you consider the baffling variety and complexity of stuff that Bill knew, perhaps the only way he could help to keep it all straight in his own mind was to share it with you.
Ironically, what I will miss perhaps most of Bill was that he was such a good listener. In the 10 to 20 percent of the airtime that I could muster during one of our meetings, I came to appreciate what Bill would remember, and contribute back on future occasions, from what was going on in my life – my worries, my problems, political or social issues that bothered me. He was able to focus on the things that were bugging you, and he would offer his take, his advice, his help. Bill really cared about what was happening to you and this set him apart from those who merely talked a lot.
I learned an awful lot from Bill, and think of him as a mentor in many ways. I was always amazed with, and emulated, his ability to think dialectically. I remember asking him, early on, “How do you do dialectics?” At the time I was attempting to read Hegel’s “small” Logic. He gave me a copy of Mao’s Four Essays on Philosophy and recommended I start with that instead. He had oodles of examples, tricks, and sayings to try to help one to think dialectically, to see the asymmetry of things, to sniff-out the one-sidedness in things. Others have already mentioned the knotted rope he carried around. I’ll never forget, “Hegel’s bagel”, or “one divides in two, but it tips”.
Reading MR will never ever be quite the same again.
Billyboy, I miss you loads man,
Love Home!
Mike Hagman
hagmanfarms@telus.net
Well, having read the comments I am touched - astonished by the similarity of experiences with my own.
Bill Livant cannot be replaced.
Of all the observations that Bill shared with me, one in particular stands out.
Of the catastrophic shift (circa 1980) in world politics, he said:
"These people are not just opposed to Socialism -- they are opposed to all forms of social planning."
Frankly, I have never been able to escape the influence of Bill's comment.
That's the sort of guy he was - in a cheery, warm and friendly way, he forced you to re-think your world.
He was the best!
dani rubin
[check www.victoriacasc.org for Bill’s video footage]
I admired Bill because he concluded a successful marriage between theory and practice.
It is the second time that I've met an intellectual not afraid to do practical work while theorizing about Socialism: helping to pack things for the caravan to Cuba, distributing leaflets in rallies, setting up tables at the Central America Support Committee events...etc.
While living in Chile, the Party sent me to a political theory school. However, at 15 years of age I only understood [from my very serious and boring instructors] the very basic rudiments of Marxism – Leninism theory. My political life was based on practice and a bit of theory extracted from bad experiences: life in Santiago’ shanty towns is a practical lesson in capitalism economics.
It was Bill who explained me some of those complicated thoughts, such as Dialectics, Historical Materialism, Dialectic Materialism..etc. Some of these intriguing concepts had eluded for a while, but Bill provided with a valuable perspective on the revolutionary praxis.[el Socialismo de las cosas pequenas -the Socialism of small things].
Prior to his death we had spoken about a meeting [it never took place] to discuss the "epidemic" of poor workmanship in our societies and its relationship to the Neo-Liberal economic system and ideology.
Being this a very obscure topic, Bill showed great interest.
Since then, I've found a book that talks about the subject [Tomas Moulin: El Consumismo me Consume - Chile - LOM Editions] and it makes me realize that we were not the only ones interested in this topic, at least the writer of this book is also interested….. [anyone else interested on the subject??????]
Carlos Flores, Victoria, BC
[check www.victoriacasc.org for Bill’s video footage]
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Bill, mi amigo…como dijo Neruda refiriendose a nuestros camaradas “con aquel que no conozco y sin embargo es mas hermano que mi hermano”, y es que esta lucha de siempre nos ha hermanado mas alla de fronteras, idiomas y barreras. En ese andar nos hemos topado con un monton de humanidad: zapateros, campesinos, profesores, lavanderas y intelectuales; los enpingorotados de torre de marfil y los del pueblo; es a esta categoria a la cual tu pertenecistes...y de alli mi respeto por tu consequencia y simpleza .
En la palabra de Marti : “todo el orgullo del mundo cabe en un grano de maiz”, hombre simple y humlide en tus tareas fuistes y de alli tu grandeza de camarada. Y es que no puede ser de otra manera, si es que esa teoria revolucionaria es para redimir a los pueblos, entonces debe ser utilitaria y practica como metal, martillo y arado, lista al sevicio de todo aquel que quiera usarla....asi es la teoria del Socialismo en sus diversas variantes, pero en la fundamental del Marxismo. Tu entrega del Saber me toco en lo personal y te agradezco el ayudarme a dilucidar material teorico lleno de vericuetos y obscuridades...en fin, seguramente ya esta todo dicho, si bien no todo entendido habran otros que se sumaran a esta lucha, ya sea por algun tiempo o de por vida,..gracias por tu ayuda y paciencia...hasta siempre camarada!!!
Carlos Flores, Victoria, BC
[check www.victoriacasc.org for Bill’s video footage]
So many fond memories of "billy boy"...like how he could wear shortpants on the coldest of days. His help for almost anything and anyone ...his music, his hospitality, his humour, his wisdom and the first clue I had on why and how an intellectual could be important. A great guy and a good man much missed. Condolences, love and happy landings Bill!
js
So many memories. Bill and I met in 1967, standing side by side, at the U. of Regina's urinals, when he first pressed the flesh. That year was my first teaching job and Bill helped me through it. He never forgot and always admired me for giving one class all A's for an outstanding piece of collective work. Although I admired his towering intellect, it was the lovely atmosphere of his Regina home with Marianne and the two boys that I most enjoyed. As an anthropologist, he asked me to take the boys on an archaeological expedition and we did find what appeared to be a buffalo jump (or kill-site). I know that the boys remember that time. I left Regina at the end of the academic year and met Bill and Marianne occasionally over the years when they came to the west coast.
In 1968, Bill and I drove to Chicago for a gathering of the Students for a Democratic Society (SDS). We were driving in Bill's trusty Checker cab, the "Blue Bomber." Driving at night in North Dakota, with me at the wheel and Bill sleeping in the back, we hit some black ice, slid down a hill sideways, across a gas station, narrowly missing hitting the pumps and ended up in a rose thicket, unharmed and able to continue with only a few scratches on the car. That was a powerful weekend and Bill seemed to know all of the principal players.
Fast forward to 1989. I take a job with the Sask. government, the Livants have an empty nest and agree to have me stay with them. So I got to be with Bill in his home environment and become more intimate with his vast, dialectical mind. Marianne and I would joke that we were a "bulwark against communism," (a cold war phrase for those who weren't around then), as we were regaled with Maoist thought. By the end of that year, both had retired and were thinking of moving to Vancouver. I, being from Victoria, urged them to consider Victoria and arranged for them to stay with my wife, Penny, who set them up with a realtor friend. They were only going to have a "look-see," but, by the end of that weekend, had purchased their new home that they would live in for the rest of their lives, and our lives were the richer for it. There were extraordinary conversations and we, all 3, played music together occasionally. Bill taught my Alexander the piano for a period of time and we cycled everywhere. When Bill had his first stroke, the thing he lamented most was not being able to cycle.
His love of Marianne, that I saw up close, never diminished, as the mere mention of her name could bring tears to his eyes. Much of our time together was at concerts where Bill exhibited a deep understanding and resonance. He would love to go backstage when the all woman quartet, the Lafayette, had played, comment on and praise their work.
Whenever I needed to wake up my brain, I would visit Bill, and never failed to be enriched by those experiences But my most enduring memory of Bill was as a wonderful friend, intensely loyal and loving and always encouraging people to make a positive impact on the world.
A meat loaf on every table!
Who will teach us now?
My friendship with Bill for almost forty years was characterized by Surprise and Joy. Bill continually made intellectual demands on me.
Time has not diminished his weekend house call to instruct me about how the world worked and reality. His rudimentary pedagogy only required a mere string which he manipulated to visually demonstrate that “one divided into two” showing me that “class” was the most powerful tool of social analysis. And that a simple knot made transparent the mystery of historical and dialectical materialism. I welcomed these lovely and now memorable visits.
Bill continued to instruct me when I left the University of Regina to become the Director of the Occupational Health & Safety branch in the Blakeney régime (1972 – 1982). He had a larger theoretical vision of the meaning of the work environment and a practical understanding of how workers actually experienced working conditions. His patient Socratic effort shaped my understanding of his innovative and daring analysis of worker health and safety public policy. The creative defense of his proposals influenced OH&S policy, statute and regulations in Saskatchewan. I will always be in his gratitude!
Bill appeared to be continually at war with mindless authority and “obedience” seemed to be the most dreaded word in the language. He was a gentle, kind and loving person with enormous insight into the Marxist intellectual tradition.
With an outstretched heart I embrace Paul, Ben and their families.
Bob Sass
Dear Bill: You were my mentor for what I learned about the political psychology of Dr. Bethune. Very much enjoyed were the long chats we had at the Montreal Bethune Symposium in 1979 and at your Regina home. Thank you for your friendship and wisdom. "So long, it's been good to know you"
Mickey Rostoker
(Regina/Vancouver)
There is a hole in Hegel’s Bagel, Bill famously said. A hole, Bill pointed out, is not "nothing", a simple absence, but a very important, if little recognized, "something" that contributes to the overall structure and deeper meaning of everything and everyone with which it stands in relation. And now we have a hole in our bagel, and its name is "Bill Livant".
Bill wrote relatively little and published less, so his widespread and often profound influence on the thinking on family, friends, students and many scholars might easily be missed. This would be a bad mistake. For no one got into people’s heads the way Bill did – nothing and no one was sacred - shaking up whatever he touched, making it move (everything "walks"), connecting apparently disparate elements, viewing them from different angles, revealing contradictions, and placing the results inside a larger (and, again, in a still larger) context. And then, as Bill sometimes put it, "returning to the watering hole", breaking things up only to re-order them anew to capture some connection or movement that still eluded him and/or us. To be sure, capitalism always came in for its share of hard knocks, for Bill’s methodological practice never lost its political edge.
Bill was not one to lecture, but to provoke and stimulate, to work with people and not on them, to tease them into extending their intellectual reach, to dig deeper into what most already knew in some way and to some degree in order to arrive at a new insight or a new way of viewing an old one that was as much a surprise – because they did half the work of getting there - as a delight. And, in this way, he usually got them (he got us, for I was also a beneficiary of this practice) to think more fully and more accurately about the subject at hand.
"Dialectics" was the name Bill gave to this "game", and he played it with great verve and joy. For Marx, dialectics had to do with – 1) what the world really is (Ontology – reality behaves dialectically, i.e. consists of innumerable processes involved in complex and evolving interactions); 2) how we can learn about such a world (Epistemology – essentially, how to bring the most important patterns we observe in these changes and interactions into proper focus and to relate them); self-clarification (how to make use of what we’ve just done for the problems with which we are most concerned); and 4) teaching dialectics to others as part of the transition from theory (what we now understand) to practice (acting upon the world to help realize the best of its potential). Though keenly interested in all the steps of Marx’s dialectic, Bill devoted most of his time to teaching dialectics, and in this no one matched his creativity. He was the Master Teacher, and we were all his students.
What set Bill’s teaching of dialectics apart from that of his peers, both past and present, was his heavy use of questions, paradoxes and humorous micro-tales about all sorts of everyday topics - bagels, baldness, walking, bicycles, etc. No one was better at shedding light on major philosophical questions with what seemed like trivial examples: "Everything important", Bill said, "is lying on the ground in the forest". Winking at the border guards also proved an extremely effective technique for crossing the ideological barriers that have been set up throughout our lives in this society to restrict our thinking to safe grounds, basically to bourgeois ideas organized along bourgeois lines. Probably nothing is as difficult as to move from one paradigm for understanding society to another, especially if the new paradigm is diametrically opposed to the old one, threatening everything the latter tries to rationalize away and defend. But this is the chief task Bill was engaged in whenever he passed, Socrates like, among us disrupting the undialectical certainties of everyone lucky enough to encounter him. And what luck …and a privilege and a joy it was. Everything Bill did was connected one way or another to helping us think more dialectically, and he was terribly good at it.
Have I left out Bill, the person, in this account? I don’t think so, because everything is inter-connected, interacting and overlapping, and Bill was as intense and full of life and fun and curiousity and desire to be of help as were his preferred ways of thinking and teaching. And one could not exist, not anyway at the level at which Bill functioned, without the other. According to Bill, the hole in Hegel’s Bagel – for thinking, if not for eating – was the most important part of that bagel. In the years to come, I believe more and more people will come to realize that the Bill Livant hole in our bagel is every bit as grand.
Are we putting it to the best possible use? Now there is a disturbing question that Bill might have asked (though he would have found a way to phrase it as a cure for baldness, or a bike trip, or…).
I love you Bill, and shall carry you with me in my head, in my heart and in my dialectics always.
Bertell Ollman
(New York City)
Praise comrade Bill Livant for introducing me to the _Monthly Review_ and consistently engaging newer activists (like myself at the time) with audacious demands to fully engage in class struggle.
I met our soon mutual friend Mike Hagman on a student-strike picket line and our conversation of that struggle definately included due consideration of Bill's provocative and legendary presence (and he will continue so walking along with us in efforts to create a classless society ever still!).
A few days after 9/11 while visiting with Donna Harrison it was a real treat to sit near Bill listening to Radhika Desai reveal to a packed Student Union Building theatre particular problems socialists must overcome beyond the cabal of U.$. and Taliban et. al. and was touched and honoured that Bill remembered me even after having moved away six years before then.
Bill, your passionate insistence on every person's contribution to social change as well as appreciation for enjoying life lives on.
Thanks to John Shafer for letting me know about Bill's passing.
solidarity,
chris vance (red ]at[ tao.ca)
I first met Bill only six or seven years ago, and although I belong on the extreme outer fringe of his family I felt quite a jolt when I heard that he had died.
Some of my friends in Sydney, Australia, were quite astounded when I remarked how I sad I felt. After all, how close can one claim to be to one's daughter-in-law's sister's father-in-law, who lived on the other side of the world?
Being in Bill's company - even on only a few occasions - was enough to show me what a 'presence' he was and how much influence he had on the way everyone around him conducted their lives.
My son Len treasured his connection to Bill, through his wife Gabrielle, Monica's sister. I heard about Bill long before I met him, I think because Bill was something of a surrogate father to Len, his own (decidedly left-wing) father having died while he was still at school.
For my part, I'm taking up the invitation to play a tribute to Bill on my violin at the memorial. From my repertoire of Celtic music I've chosen three pieces, for the following reasons:
1] Coolin - in recognition of Bill's individuality. I imagine him standing on a hilltop, encouraging others to come up and see the world as he saw it.
2] Schottische (from a set that the Bush Music Club of Addison Road often plays at dances) - in celebration of Bill's clearly thought out and clearly stated ideas, together with his unfailing courtesy.
3] Harvest Home - a dance tune of Irish origin, chosen because it is in the form of a conversation. It’s as if a perfectly rational statement is made by the first speaker, then this is unexpectedly countered by a proposition that is way off the subject. This jousting continues back and forth until in the end the two speakers arrive at an amicable agreement to disagree.
This web site is a fine tribute to Bill Livant, and I am happy to see that Ben's excellent obituary has been published in the July/Aug issue of Monthly Review, a journal Bill supported in many ways. Over the nearly two decades that I knew him, Bill and I had many discussions of MR articles. In recent years, we would get together on a fairly regular basis over coffee and take up the contradictions of global capitalism, often by looking at minutiae of everyday life, sometimes by resort to a grander scale. Bill had a brilliant mind and a remarkably broad base of knowledge. He was in his element whenever he was engaged in free-flowing dialog, which is one reason why he did not produce a vast quantity of publications. His impact on those who knew him was enormous. When I dedicated my 2004 book, Critical Strategies for Social Research, to Bill, I was acknowledging some of that impact. I miss Bill, but more than that I am so grateful to have known such a wise, kind and jovial revolutionary. An inspiration to us all.
Bill Carroll
Victoria
I'll always remember Bill as the brilliant and generous teacher who announced on the first day of class his intention to teach us to think. In my case he actually succeeded, and it was probably our mutual surprise that endeared us to each other ever after.
Going through this transformative learning process was challenging and exhilarating even beyond the high hopes I had for the university experience.
By offering intellectual exercise to practise and strengthening it, Bill taught my thinking to "walk" in a perceptible motion of back and forth, side to side. I didn't realize what had actually happened until after the semester was over.
No doubt Bill could easily have described his teaching method in philosophical terms, but for me it's expressed by the simple image of an adult supporting a child by the hands as it totters along on uncertain legs, learning to walk. The kindness and patience implicit in this act still move me deeply, some twenty years later.
Bill used to say that he hoped someday to become a wise man instead of a wiseguy; I don't have any doubt that he was a wise man all along.
Anne Bauman
(Cumberland, BC)
Been thinking a lot about Bill lately. I am so appreciative for having known him, and for all of his enthusiastic support for my writings (with critiques, of course) over
the years...
Mitchel Cohen
(New York City)
The Algonquin Round Table had Benchley,
Kaufman and Woollcott.
Three of them - pischers, all.
The Pinewood Round Table had Bill Livant.
One of him - mensch, always.
What an honour to have been in his orbit.
Peter McGuire (Victoria, BC)
Bill got a big kick out of the fact I … agreed to … name my son Fidel. At one protest I attended with my son when he was about three, Bill appeared from the crowd, with his crazy hair and that huge grin of his exclaiming ‘There’s Fidel!’. A moment later my son was gone. He had disappeared into the crowd on Bill’s shoulders. An hour or so later, Bill showed up again, returning a happy child who had really experienced his first protest. Fidel, now 15, still remembers that day.
Of course, naming my son Fidel put me in the perfect category of ‘candidate for political discourse’. I’d be sitting on a bench in a park, watching a ball game, and there’s Bill with his grandkids. Off the kids go to play (this was a few years ago), and I’m free to engage in discussion … or so it seemed. The Monthly Review, had just republished an article ‘Why Socialism’ by Albert Einstein and Bill prods me, what was my opinion. Right now I’m tired (I had a baby in tow), and I’m thinking about my next cup of coffee or other slighter stronger stimulant. I don’t know, hmm, I’ll have to think about it, hmm. Finally I had to confess, damn it Bill, I’ve never given any thought to Einstein being a socialist! A few days later the article appeared in my mailbox.
Now my kids are older and I do have more time and energy to engage. Unfortunately Bill is no longer with us. I sure remember his love of life and miss his enthusiasm. He was never put off. Bill was first in line to meet you on any idea, if you dared to disclose your opinion.
I met Bill through joining the Prendergast family, I married Tess. Therefore I had the pleasure of meeting Bill. When ever we met he almost always said "hows it going kid". Looking back I see that line as an opening line to a conversation about whatever I was thinking about or into at the time. Bill would always listen and eventually if time allowed he would usually talk about what you said and make you think about things in different ways and help come up with new ways of problem solving (Dialectics). I remember him throwing me one of his knots and being asked to think. I don't always think, it gets me into trouble a lot. But, Bill made me think! I will always remember Bill sitting in his front yard peacefully sitting in the sun, waiting for some one to come along so he could ask them a simple question.
PS. Bill, thanks for the for the coles notes version of Marx, It helped explain between the lines. I will miss you very much.
To honour the memory of Bill Livant a contribution has been received by The Heart and Stroke Foundation of B.C. & Yukon from David Lethbridge.
FROM: His Excellency Mr. Ernesto A. Senti Darias, Ambassador, Embassy of Cuba in Canada.
On behalf of the Cuban people and government, the Embassy of Cuba expresses its deepest sympathies following the death of Dr. William Paul Livant.
We mourn the loss of a great friend and strong supporter of Cuba. Dr. William Paul Livant was a lifelong Marxist with broad scholarly interests including Marxism, Evolutionary Philosophy and Revolutionary Movements worldwide. He was also a longtime supporter of the socialist periodicals Monthly Review and Briarpatch, among many other progressive causes.
Dr. William Paul Livant visited Cuba on two occasions, one being to attend a philosopher's conference in Havana in the 1990s. He was a committed activist who worked with various groups and causes, especially with the Latin American immigrant community in support of Cuba and Venezuela. We were struck by his dedication.
We express our sincere regret at the pasing of Dr. William Paul Livant and send our heartfelt condolences to his family and friends.
Dr. William Paul Livant will long be remembered as a hard-working, persuasive individual who earned the respect and admiration of all.
Sincerely,
Ernesto Senti
Ambassador of Cuba to Canada
c/o
Randy Caravaggio
Goods for Cuba Campaign
(Victoria, BC)
Bill and Marianne both left a lasting impression on me. They were about something. Such vitality, passion and joy; a loyalty for family, friends, politics, music, singing, dancing, nature. Bill was right up there when he played the piano. What a heavenly gift he had.
The memories I have of him are many. As I write I have to smile. He was so excited when I asked him if he wanted a pair of lederhosen I had grown out of. He immediately put them on and as we hiked along the Salmon River, I remember Marianne getting upset with his idea of fashion and style.
When I moved to NYC in 1980, Bill was on sabbatical in Brooklyn. I used to tease him, telling him that he was the only communist I knew with a "villa" on 1156 E. 13th in Brooklyn.
Bill was a kind, generous man, a good friend. He came to my rescue when I needed a very heavy sewing machine transported from Moodus to NYC. I met him at the Marxist Center on the lower Westside. We listened to a lecture on Marxist humor. Afterwards, Bill lugged the sewing machine via subway to E. 76th Street for me.
One gorgeous Sunday at the end of October, Bill Marianne and I biked to Coney Island. We pranced around playing tag on the empty beach. We became so hot, we striped down to our underwear and went swimming with wild abandonment.
I could go on and on with memories but the most heart-rending is after we went bike riding in Prospect Park in May. All three of us laid on our backs in the grass in the backyard, enveloping ourselves in the beauty of the cherry tree that Bill loved since his childhood. Later, Bill tenderly read to me the love letters his parents wrote when they were courting. He was so proud of those letters. He loved the home his parents created for him, even the worn kitchen curtains that Marianne wanted to change.
Bill was a man for all seasons. A gifted man with an extraordinary intellect, robust sense of humor and a tender sentiment. I feel so blessed to have known Bill. What a gift, thank you so much.
Jerry DeLopez
(Moodus, CT)
I first met Bill many years ago standing in his kitchen in Regina as he praised the one pot dinner cooking on his stove--which Mao's followers considered de rigeur, Bill said. His two young boys listened with rapt attention while Marianne chuckled in the background. That was September 1973when I was making my cross Canada dance video trip to document dance groups under a Canada Council grant and Marianne was one of my stops: she was the founder of the Regina Modern Dance Workshop. I videotaped her classes and interviewed her on camera. She was a vital source of creative energy that blazed memorably through my camera lens. I didn't spend much time with Bill that trip. Many years later after he and Marianne moved out here I played that tape for Bill and Marianne in the basement of my old house in Vancouver and Bill suddenly blurted out in the darkness " My God Marianne you were so beautiful!" So it was through her I first encountered Bill. After they moved here Bill would make regular trips from Victoria,call me up to inform me he had the latest Monthly Reviews for my edification and we met for talking and political updating after which he was off to see others on his regular circuit of friends. Bill was pleased that I was at that time, the late 80s, very involved in peace activism and education. I was editing a newsletter that I had started, with support from the BCTF, called "Teaching Peace", as part of a newly organized Peace Education Coalition that promoted teaching peace in high schools and concentrated on yearly conferences that brought students together from all over the province, which came to be called Youth for Global Awareness. Bill was happy to get the newsletter and to read about the reported YGA conference activities. I think he was gratified to see how dedicated I was to promote the goals of this project to rescue the future of young people. I was also teaching courses at Capilano College on globalization and world system theory, global formations of capitalism, socialist movements, etc. We had many conversations on these topics.
In June 1992 Bill and I went to Cuba to attend a long conference at the University of Havana on "revisiting" socialism. We shared a room. We were the only Canadians among a large number of American attendees with whom we did not share the thought we were trading with the enemy. Bill presented a paper onn the role of the bicycle in Cuban economy and its ecological ramifications--the Cubans were forced to rely on the bicycle out of economic necessity during this "special period" after the fall of communism in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union. For me it was an eye opener on Cuban society and their socialist experiment under Fidel. Bill would ride a bicycle into old Havana every day on his own.
One incident stands out in my memory and became especially poignant after Bill's first stroke, when he couldn't use both hands to play the piano anymore. We were taking a stroll around the U. of Havana campus and came upon a low, squat older building with large doors. We opened a door and saw that it was in fact a large hall with a grand piano standing in the centre. There was no one there. We walked in and I asked Bill to try out the piano. He sat down and without any hesitation broke into Brahms' First Piano Concerto which gloriously filled the hall. As he played I walked upstairs to a mezanine and looked down to watch Bill soaring through this gorgeous music. It was a magical moment I will always remember.
Bill was a consummate musician, not merely a player. He had a profound understanding of the music he played, it was the greatest of gifts, which I always deeply appreciated because of my own lifelong love of music. I play the piano. I used to sing bass-baritone many years ago and once in a while Bill would accompany me even though I was no longer in good voice and stumbled through the music. Bill was very patient and could transmit his ideas about music very clearly and confidently, one might say almost with a musical wisdom that conveyed the truth of the music immediately and without hesitation. When he visited me he might bring a new piece in his memory to play for me, say a Bach prelude or fugue. He knew I was delighted to exchange musical ideas and experiences.
You can imagine how crushed I was when I visited Bill after his stroke and realized he would no longer be able to play the way he always had, and he even joked about playing for one hand only.
We will all miss Bill's endless mental energy and his depth, and , most of all, his oceanic humanity. Bill always reminded you to ask the central question: what is the whole the part is part of? In life, in politics, in music.
Matthew Speier
Vancouver,BC
We were so very sorry to hear from Connie that Bill has died.
I have four particularly strong memories when I think of Bill. First, when he and Marianne came over years ago and were staying with Ruth in the Principal's Lodge at Newnham College in Cambridge; I have forgotten why I was there. He was brash, funny, and irreverent and treated me as if I was a natural soul-mate: a little flattering but confusing since I was actually rather shy and immature. I can still see him chatting in the corridor, just as I can remember him describing how Ruth drew the curtains by pulling backwards on the cords till she lay on the ground.
Next, years later after his first stroke when they stayed at The End House in Cambridge and he showed a grace of personality in dealing with having lost so much that mattered to him that few could match: the spirit of the Blitz in an archetypical American.
Then, and this I heard at second hand, the way Bill made time for our son Richard when he first visited Victoria. At the time Richard was struggling to communicate with the older generation and the older generation, including me, was struggling to communicate with him; we were really grateful for Bill's response to him, if a little startled.
And finally, when I visited Victoria when Marianne was dying and the poor man didn't know where to put himself and all the intellectual bits that I found difficult just vanished into insignificance.
It is a relief that Bill did not have to struggle a second time to deal with the consequences of a stroke. I am sure he got so much happiness from fighting his way back the first time but it's not something one should have to do again.
Although I was not able to attend the memorial gathering for Bill, I am sure his spirit took part and was right at home: the leader of the party.
Jim Cohen
(London, UK)
FROM Joan Givner: Here is [an excerpt] from Emily's play ["Shop-Talk"]... Emily worked for a number of years at the gas station "Neighbors" on Albert Street [in Regina], taking a great interest in all the customers and writing about them in stories
as well as this play. Bill was a frequent visitor and she thoroughly enjoyed his bantering. He is "The Marxist" in the play. Well, not really, but he certainly inspired the character... It is not an accurate vignette of Bill, nor was it intended to be, but perhaps captured something.
From Scene ONE: The MARXIST enters.
XAVIERE: How's my favourite Marxist?
MARXIST: Where's your manager?
KATJE: He left early today.
CHORUS: Potential energy is a useful concept only for conservative forces; we cannot associate a potential energy with a frictional force.
MARXIST: I would like to lodge a formal complaint. The price of the pretzels is outrageous, outlandish!
KATJE: He doesn't make the prices.
MARXIST: Who does?
KATJE: Someone out there.
MARXIST: Out there? Out where?
JAY: In the upper echelons of uh -
MARXIST: Ha! That's the way they like it. They inaugurate a process in which guilt is constantly deferred. Someone must take responsibility.
JAY: Hey, we just work here! Don't blame us!
MARXIST: Why, of course not. Do you think I would quell my doubts and fears by selecting an arbitrary victim, by transferring the collective burden of responsibility onto one isolated figure?
JAY: No sir. I wouldn't accuse you of that.
MARXIST: Do you take me for a philistine?
JAY: No, no sir. I wouldn't take you for one of those!
MARXIST: Confront your manager! Tell him that these exorbitant prices are intolerable.
KATJE: Are you complaining about just the pretzels or all the products in the store?
MARXIST: (To KATJE) Very good! Very good! I've committed the metonymic fallacy. But you can see why, can't you?
KATJE: No.
JAY: No.
MARXIST: Why, the pretzel is a most appropriate symbol for the tangled web of our corrupt socio-political system. (To KATJE) You are right, my dear; why be reductive when all of the prices are simply unsatisfactory.
The MARXIST leaves.
From Scene Two: The MARXIST enters holding a book.
YOUTH: I suppose it doesn't really matter.
MARXIST: (To YOUTH) Young man, seemingly trifling matters can, before your eyes, metamorphose into events of extraordinary consequence; apparently trivial actions can snowball, and with virtiginous speed, amass a significant political residue. So, at the risk of sounding supercilious, what is this matter that evokes such an apathetic response?
YOUTH: The choice of a laundry detergent, sir.
MARXIST: Aha, with every purchase, one contributes to an economic infrastructure sustained by the oppression of a third world people. You may select a box of Tide, seduced by the slogan, "Tide's in, dirt's out," but all the scouring pads in the world cannot remove the spot on your soul.
CHORUS: It is important to distinguish between the concepts of mass and weight. Mass is an intrinsic property of matter. The simplist idea of mass is that it is a measure of the amout of matter in a body.
MARXIST: Yes, those petty matters have the habit of... Oh, for the love of God, a double entendre.
FRED: A double what?
YOUTH: He's referring to the double meaning of the word "habit," sir: habit as a custom and habit as clothing or costume.
FRED starts counting the money in an envelope.
MARXIST: In other words, the word "habit" sports two respective habits. (To YOUTH) Very good! Very good! (To JAY) "Entendre" - a French word meaning... Now if that French girl were here... Where is she?
JAY: At home changing her habit, sir.
MARXIST: Oh, I see. Give her this.
He gives the book to JAY.
JAY: "Hitler's Dictatorship and the German Nation?"
MARXIST: She has a passion for mysteries.
The MARXIST leaves.
On behalf of the Editorial Board, we are pleased to present Volume Nine of MUSICOLOGICAL EXPLORATIONS, a journal published by the graduate students in music at the University of Victoria. The intent of the journal is to enrich musicological discourse at the university level, providing a forum for scholarly work by graduate students and faculty.
We take this opportunity to express our gratitude to Bill Livant for his valued donations.
David Cecchetto and Deborah Hopper
(Managing Editors)
Dear Mr. Livant,
We gratefully acknowledge your recent gift of two boxes of sheet music to the McPherson Library.
Thank you very much for thinking of the University of Victoria Libraries.
Sincerely,
Sam Aquila
Head of Cataloguing Services
I must send belated sympathy on the death of Bill. I have a couple of special memories of him; he was a special man... I am glad that your kids got to know him well. A sense of roots... and wings! This is what we give as good parents, methinks: roots and wings. God bless Bill and Marianne for their creative, almost intuitive grasp of this ideal. I pray that Paul and Ben and all of you partners keep their memory alive. We loved them both very much.
Thel and Don Haug
Paul and Ben;Sorry to hear about the passing of your father.My mother Sheila just passed away last month so I am in the process of re-connecting with folks I knew way back when.I had a lot of respect and admiration for both your father and your beautiful mother when we were kids and as a teen and visited you all in Regina a couple of times passing through.I just wish I could have known your folks as an adult;I can just imagine some wonderful converstions.Having mostly been raised single-handedly by my mom I always imagined all of you as the perfect family together.Our folks live on through us,our kids and grandkids and our future generations to come.Much love and respect.....
I still can't really believe Bill is gone. You must find it strange. Barry's mom said it best when she met Bill the night before Barry and I got married:
"Your friend Bill is twice as alive as anyone I've ever met."
Mary Love, Toronto
(December 2008)
The following is from THE PHENOMENOLOGY OF BAGELS by Jason Bell: http://uk.ibtimes.com/articles/213919/20110914/new-york-city-bagel-food-columbia.htm#0_undefined,0_
Bill Livant, author of untidy Marxist monologues like "The Dialectics of Walking on Two Legs," published a piece in Science & Society titled "The Hole in Hegel's Bagel." A ten point dialogue with the self: is the bagel's hole a part of the whole? Marx: yes, we must penetrate appearances and discover their secret essences. Something is hidden in a bagel hole! At point 10, Livant asserts that wholes without holes are actually in drag masquerading as everything, which is ideology. Right. So a bagel without a hole isn't a bagel? If you eat around or ignore the bagel's hole, you're an ideologue? I think Livant is trying to articulate, in a needlessly circuitous manner, that a whole which rejects its hole (or space of hiding) evacuates its essence and becomes appearance. Then, the holeless whole appropriates the essences of others as appearances, functioning as "ideology." Right. I'm more interested in point 8, where Livant asks, "How does one get to the hole in the center of the bagel?" Obviously, one starts at the bagel's outer rim, circular as a rubber tire shaped around a barrel drum, takes a Snow White poisoned apple bite, examines the dental mold left in whole wheat dough, and then tears the bagel apart with teeth and fingers, wrestling with the elastic bread between fractious crown fillings and picking poppy seeds from incisor gaps, before hitting the gasp of diver's oxygen sealed within the pneumatic ring; it is a breathing space; and onto the other side, punctured and perforated with many lover's bites, severing the torus into two halves. Livant describes this process as "eating your way through, moving." The mind must possess enough flexibility to traverse the bagel's tricky topologies, to finally find the extreme something hidden in all that nothingness.
If, as Livant claims, "Hegel's great insight is that the truth is the whole" (point 1), then we necessarily come to question whether the hole is part of the whole (point 2). Grand metaphors be damned, this raises a crucial question for the phenomenology of bagels. Is the hole part of the bagel? Here's how Livant figures the answer: a hole is a place where something is hidden, Marx believes the hidden parts of the whole reveal its "systemic and dynamic character," the essence of a thing is that which is hidden-so the essence of a bagel, not its appearance, lies in the hole. Livant extrapolates this deduction into a bizarre geometry of ideology-an ideology fills in holes and evacuates essence. Point: a bagel has a hole. Point: a bagel is not an ideology. This is, of course, not true at all and totally inconsequential for the experience of a whole wheat everything bagel on a 79 degree New York Saturday.
Years have passed since Bill died, and I did not know, having moved away from Victoria in '02. Bill played piano at Margot and my wedding. Prior to his first stroke, Bill and I would collaborate on some obscure pieces by Faure, spending hours trying to perfect the rhythmic interplay between the piano and the Baritone. He was NY, he was that branch of Judaism that embraced socialism as religion. Would he be disappointed that I am now a cantor? Or that I live in Las Vegas?
Hazzan Rob Menes
Las Vegas, NV
2012-12-19
http://exam-music.bandcamp.com/track/windowsill-prod-apollo-brown
Song by eXam, Posted by Max Livant
http://exam-music.bandcamp.com/track/windowsill-prod-apollo-brown
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