GETTING BACK INTO PUBLIC THINKERING^†

Since finishing my dissertation, I have not written nearly as much even in my journals as I used to do. I think the break is over now, however.

The last few weeks have gotten me in a new mode of doing phenomenology. I started a new exercise. I journal critical analyses of concepts and processes that pop into my mind when I first wake up. Sunday morning a week back, I awoke with a single notion in my mind: Compliance. I had breakfast and brushed my teeth. Then, I sat down to describe how I comprehend the meaning of compliance, compliant, comply. Maybe complacency? Let’s see… 

As with all of my thinkering, I begin with the terms. They do not usher from human lips without connection to their origins. But the connections do not need to be known to use the words. They carry their history within them no matter the apparent context which provides us the current (this usage) meaning. However, the context upholds this sense of the word. It grounds the notion in the meaning-spectrum that it could have and has had.

As I said, the word floating in my consciousness that morning was compliance. I give the standardized definition, akin to a fresh undergraduate in college. It is “the act of complying with a wish or a command.” To-be-in-compliance begins with accepting a rule and then yielding to it. The structure enacts consent. However, such an agreement need not be a complete surrender. Immanuel Kant’s “What is Enlightenment” offers a crucial insight. Complying with a particular command does not mean someone relinquishes the human right to critique.¹

As it intends the act of complying, I turn to my etymologies. COMPLY comes to us through a usage c 1600 about “acting in accordance with another’s desire.” There seemed to be a mixture at this time of two concepts. Most experts agree that COMPLY comes from the French COMPLI. It is the past participle of COMPLIR. Thus, it evolves directly from Latin COMPLERE: “to fill up,” i.e. to complete. The other influence derives from PLY, “to employ diligently.” That term derives, however, from Latin PLICARE, “to lay, fold, or twist”: i.e. to complicate. I can see how the two would be related.

In 21^st century technocratic society, this usually starts as an attempt to complete a given direction. However, due to technocracy’s inevitable circumstances, everything becomes over-complicated. 

GETTING TO THIS THING: COMPLIANCE

In an existential phenomenology, I focus upon the structures of experience as they appear to consciousness.

I now have an adequate understanding of the notion. I can start to disentangle the process. This helps uncover the necessary aspects from the unnecessary ones. This deactivates my presuppositions. As an anarchocynic, I obviously have suspicions toward any person or institution that asks me to comply. I am especially wary around directives when there is little transparency to the process.

To comply need not evidence as a rigid, external behavior. Rather, the compliant-experience unfolds within lived contexts. Thus, compliance is not merely an act of following rules. It is a mode of being-in-the-world shaped by power and authority. A person’s orientation toward both also shapes it.

But right now, I am only thinkering on the ‘HOW’ of fulfilling a wish. 

To comply acknowledges some other’s directions and goes-along-to-get-along-with-them. Or in a fancier language: to accede in order to proceed. Here, I uncover a sense of changing-movement. While such might be literal motion, the core structure appears more as an indication of a change in will. I let, for whatever reason, my own volition be put into the service of another. Again: This is not necessarily nefarious. Rather, it is an aspect of existence: I am an entity thrown into a world not of my own making nor by my own choice. I am always already dependent from birth. I must develop the ability to go along with those who help me as I move toward adulthood. By doing so, I learn to get along for myself as an adult.² I repeat the pattern as an instructor. I see this when I interact with those younger and still adapting themselves to membership in society.

As existential structure, then, compliance involves exchange of wills. It requires a kind of communication that at its best examples compromise. This means literally, together (cum) going (mittere) forward (pro) in mutual give-and-take. 

Here, though, I stumble upon the importance of understanding “will” and “volition.” This intends the power to direct my being toward something I either need or I want. 

Most of my fleshly being is involuntary. I do not instruct my stomach to process food. My blood flows through my body without my willing it. This is metabolism. A good metabolism means healthiness. A bad metabolism indicates unhealthiness. 

Conversely, I consciously will my hands to reach for what I require. I will my legs to move me closer to what I desire. This is volition. Now, good and bad take on different meanings. Good will speaks to virtuous intent. Bad will involves vicious intent. 

If compliance, then, involves the acquiescence of the will, it can be enacted via virtuous (excellent) or vicious (malicious) purpose. The one asking for me to comply can be acting from either good or bad will. I, as well, may react to a mandate to fulfill another’s directive from either good or bad will.³

Living in a technocracy, I often encounter many rules, policies, and programs. These are supposedly required for the proper function of any given department, institution, or social structure. This further evidences compliance as a relational phenomenon at its core. It arises in the personal connecting with externalized authority.

This authority can be institutional, legal, or cultural. The meeting has a dual structure. On one side, the authority presents a set of demands or expectations. On the other, I am compelled to respond. In this response, compliance emerges as a lived negotiation between submission and refusal. From my standpoint here in 21^st century America, compliance often involves a sense of obligation or duty. This arises from an internalized respect for the authority or from fear of consequences. The experience manifests as a tension between personal freedom and external imposition.

Phenomenologically, then, compliance situates me within a horizon of possibilities constrained by the demands of authority. Compliance is never purely passive. It involves a deliberative process. I must evaluate the cost of non-compliance. I also consider the consequences of disobedience and the feasibility of defiance. Hence, the willful structure delineated above.

Yet even when compliance seems automatic, there is an underlying intentionality. This intentionality—whether conscious or pre-reflective—shapes how I conform to rules or expectations that open up a spectrum of experiences: compliance can be voluntary, reluctant, coerced, or even strategic. I can comply out of genuine agreement, pragmatic necessity, or fear of reprisal.

Making-way through the life-world importantly in a given era involves me, implicates me. Through all of these scenarios, compliance unfolds temporally. It requires being engaged with a rule or demand presently. This is often rooted in past experiences of learning what a particular authority expects. Additionally, the act of complying is future-oriented; it anticipates the outcomes of either conforming or rebelling. Such temporality is felt in how compliance structures my sense of security, belonging, or alienation within a given system. In situations where compliance is voluntary, the future appears as a space of order and predictability. In contrast, coerced compliance makes the future feel oppressive. It also feels like a space where potential freedoms are deferred. New—usually confusing—calls to comply can make a bit of uncertainty turn into full blown insecurity. This comes with a “sinking feeling” in the stomach. (I bet a few people reading this know that feeling.)

And the concept of embodiment becomes crucial for understanding compliance. It is lived not only as a cognitive or moral decision. Compliance is also rooted in the body. I encounter rules and constraints through my physical interactions with the life-world. This includes the way I dress, speak, and move in regulated spaces like classrooms, workplaces, or public venues. All of this reflects compliance in embodied action. In moments of compliance, the body becomes a site where authority inscribes itself. Sometimes, I straighten my posture in the presence of a supervisor. Other times, I lower my gaze to avoid confrontation. Compliance manifests through these gestures and postures: Body gestures align me—literally and metaphorically—with the demands of power.

Such burdens from compliance become existential issues tied to authenticity or ownmostness: I am my own self. I also am part of the collective human experience. However, I am a singular expression of it “like no other” as are my fellows. When compliance is unreflective—when one simply follows orders without questioning them—it may lead to a sense of alienation or estrangement. This is not the same as what I refer to as genuine inauthenticity: The structure of being-with-others wherein our language and customs share enough for communication to be possible. Rather, they are examples of adopting false authenticity: Rationalizations of how I am being “authentic” in allowing my person to be absorbed into the will of the systemic authority. Meanwhile, I deny my own desires, values, or objectives. In contrast, authentic compliance involves a conscious, deliberate engagement with the rule or demand. I remain my ownmost self while compromising with others. I freely choose to align with authority based on my own reflective judgment and their willingness to welcome critique.⁴

This remains the always already social dimension of compliance: it is often observed, expected, and evaluated by others. We comply within social contexts where others also agree or refuse to conform. This sociality creates layers of meaning around compliance. These layers range from social pressure and peer expectations to solidarity in shared acts of defiance. The experience of compliance is shaped by the gaze of others. This creates a feedback loop. In this loop, one’s actions are constantly interpreted and reinterpreted within a social field.

THE NEW INQUISITION

The reinterpretation of compliance occurring today in many places around the United States of America is a reactionary one.

It is based in the disjunctive EITHER/OR binary of contemporary politics. The disjunction usually brings structures of approval for those on “my side.” It results in approbation for those on “thy side.” In this disconnection, all actors are near each other physically while far apart—if I may be so bold—spiritually (intellectually). Discordance between the directors and the directed involves how formerly shared notions of public engagement confirm/deny long held value structures.

Some people, like me, have spent their entire lives studying comparative intellectual history. (Well, at least ¾ of my life is dedicated to this study—45 of 60 years.) Humanities scholars with whom I dialog regularly see little safety in the contemporary compliance regimes of higher education. The structures are built in the name of “careful governance.” Yet, similar moves in world history record how easily “good intentions pave the road to hell.” Too many times, institutions slide down the slippery slope to vicious authoritarian control.

As universities and colleges originated out of the medieval Catholic Church, perhaps that provides a good place to explore. 

How would compliance be structured if we were talking about older institutions like the Catholic Church? That is, the organization of Holy Mother, the Church, included the Holy Office for the Doctrine of the Faith. Most people know this body as the Holy Inquisition. Its members ensured that any teachings and actions aligned with the “orthodoxic” worldview of Roman Catholic canon law. Orthodox, as grasped here, means to hold the “right doctrine.” Literally it is Greek for “correct opinion.” This was grounded in sound theology based on living tradition and sacred scripture.

Universities today owe much of their structure to medieval cathedral schools. Their governance was influenced as well. Education in these schools was tied to the Church’s mission to produce clergy. These schools were the place for those with a calling—a vocation. They improved their thinking skills, aiding them to order the Church and, in some cases, the State. This evolved into the colleges and universities supported by Popes and Kings. Bishops and Princes also supported them. This ensured there were enough trained theologians, notaries (lawyers), and physicians. Their role was to help keep the “City of Man” more in concert with the “City of God.”

In a technocracy, the compliance regime serves a similar role. The Curia’s work in the Church included identifying those straying from the narrow road of the “true faith.” But there was so much more they accomplished in keeping the machinery of the church working. In a technocratic regime, investigating issues where norms drift is just a portion of the work as well. Other efforts are necessary to maintain the institution’s machinery. Much more effort is needed to keep the machinery of a given institution working.

Modern universities have largely shed their religious overtures. However, they continue to bear the hierarchical and compliance-driven models from those early days. Part of the binary discord today revolves around the effort to improve diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) at educational institutions. Recent laws in many regions of the USA aim to curb such initiatives. Contemporary political factions put these forth via legislative measures. In doing so, they blatantly seek to control academic discourse. Such measures serve as a precursor to a more authoritarian and suppressive university structure. This is reminiscent of the darker days of the Spanish Inquisition.

Medieval institutions like contemporary universities were tightly controlled by centralized authority. In the past, this authority was the Church. Today at public colleges, this control is by the State. The Roman Inquisition, for example, was not about public spectacle. It operated quietly within the legalistic framework of the Church. The goal was to enforce doctrinal purity, ensuring that no one deviated too far from the accepted teachings. This mode of governance is eerily akin to how compliance regimes work in universities today. They quietly regulate faculty, students, and programs under the guise of maintaining academic integrity. Recent laws aiming to stop DEI initiatives claim to be mechanisms for maintaining “neutrality.” Yet, they often serve as tools for enforcing a particular ideological stance.

Where it becomes dangerous, though, is when the Roman Inquisition gives way to the Spanish Inquisition.⁵ Under the papacy, the Roman Holy Office served as a tool for doctrinal correction. The precursor established by the Spanish monarchy enforced religious and political conformity. It was originally sanctioned to address doctrinal heresy among conversos (Jews who converted) and moriscos (Muslims who converted). This led to it becoming an instrument of state power. It served as a tool for enforcing political and cultural conformity under the guise of religious orthodoxy. The Spanish monarchy integrated religious control into its political strategy. This transformed the Inquisition into a weapon of fear and punishment. Their Inquisition went far beyond theological concerns. It became a tool for controlling every aspect of public life. It crushed dissent. The “religious arm” of the Church conducted the inquiries. Afterward, the “secular arm” of the State swiftly punished anyone deviating from the norm.

Contemporary political factions initially frame recent DEI laws as regulatory and neutral. Nonetheless, they set the stage for something much more authoritarian. Anxieties around immigration and gender transition are growing. This increases the temptation to use university compliance offices to police thought and discourse on these issues. This situation echoes the shift from a policy-based bureaucrat to a faction-inspired inquisitor.

The Spanish Inquisition harnessed fear of the “Other”—whether religious or cultural. Current political factions tap into fears surrounding race, gender, and identity. They justify their interference in academic spaces. Policies aimed at regulating DEI start with good intentions. Quickly, they expand into policing research. Since instruction at universities grows out of current research, the policies suppress teaching and control the public intellectual sphere.

In this light, it’s not difficult to see how university compliance offices evolve—or devolve. Today, they more resemble the methodical operations of the Roman Inquisition. In the future, they provide ready instruments of control. This would ultimately turn universities into battlegrounds for ideological control. It would stifle the free inquiry and diversity of thought that these institutions are meant to protect.

Thus, what I see with these recent laws is not merely a legal question of how to handle DEI initiatives. It is a broader cultural struggle over who gets to control the narrative in our institutions of higher learning. Immigration and gender issues can amplify fears. These fears drive political factions to adopt more invasive measures. They masquerade these measures as compliance to suppress dissent or alternative viewpoints. Compliance regime offices and review boards will start insisting on their imprimatur for academics to engage in research. They will also require it for publishing scholarship.⁶

If this trajectory continues unchecked, universities become less about fostering intellectual curiosity. They transform into sites for enforcing ideological purity. This is a chilling prospect for any democracy that values free thought and open discourse.⁷

The past teaches us that control often creeps in under the cover of order. And that is where the complacency connects to compliance. Without vigilance, American higher education today will become more like “orthodox teaching” was 100 to 800 years ago. Academics must refuse neoliberal administrative systems. They need to demand once again fully authentic shared governance. If they don’t, the enforcement of compliance will spiral into outright suppression of academic freedom. You will comply or you will be dealt with.

And good siblings… that is what I was thinking about this last Sunday.

ENDNOTES

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1. Among the better contemporary usages of this notion is Herbert Marcuse, One Dimensional Man. ↩︎
2. At the moment, I set aside all the potential material circumstances. These could maladapt me as a person, e.g, abandonment, abuse, poverty, etc et al. ↩︎
3. The determination of this may be highly subjective if trust languishes between the directed and the directors. There is a tendency for most to convince themselves of their own “good intentions.” At the same time, they stay suspicious of how honest others’ are.  ↩︎
4. This goes beyond taking polls. It also surpasses forming committees to examine possible stumbling blocks to implementing a compliance regime.  ↩︎
5.  I know that the Spanish Inquisition predates the Roman Inquisition. They offer good historic happenings for us to think about today.  ↩︎
6. This technically is still the case at Catholic institutions as well as some fundamentalist church schools.  ↩︎
7. I am fully aware that many conservatives want to impose certain kinds of returns to orthodoxy through state power. They often feel they are responding to how most progressives impose restrictions on personal belief. The question always comes down to this: Has the state legislated its power to harm dissenters? Has the political regime used its power to destroy lives based on disagreement in beliefs? Ultimately, the valid worry is the state enforcing conformity. It is not whether new initiatives have revealed that some “good people” make harmful decisions influenced by dehumanizing activities, e.g. classism, sexism, racism, xenophobia, homophobia, transphobia, etc. et al. ↩︎