Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Response to panel discussion
Friday, April 20, 2012
The Self-destructive Nature of Guilt
Interestingly, the novel "Mrs. Dalloway" provides a exemplary example of this destructive process, and religion in this case (as with many) is the driving force which encourages and exacerbates guilt. Indeed, guilt seems to be the primary tool utilised by religion to bring people under control. Miss Kilman claims that turning to religion sooths "the hot and turbulent feelings which boiled and surged in her" (Woolf 124). These feelings, however (which could be seen as Nietzsche's 'will to power'), rather that being assuaged, are internalised instead of discharged on the world. This causes Miss Kilman intense suffering and unhappiness. Her very act of "trying to subdue [the] turbulent and painful feeling" (128) fails, because even if she masters it and convinces herself that "it is in the flesh" (128) she will continue to feel a "violent grudge against the world" (129), that is, a resentment stemming from bad conscience or the internalised violence against herself.
Other than religion, what other societal mechanisms wedge guilt and bad conscience in place?
Nietzsche's Economic Claims (Creditor/Debtor Relationship)
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Eternal Return
Illness and the Ubermensch
This week in class we talked about the ubermensch or the ‘overman’ or ‘superman’ and how he is the future of mankind (gendered language here and in the rest of the post is Nietzsche’s not mine). While this ubermensch will go beyond man as he is thought of today, he will also come from man in an almost dialectical manner. If we see our current (slave morality) views of human beings as the thesis, then Nietzsche is arguing that we need an antithesis. This can be seen in the way Nietzsche characterizes exactly what the sickness of bad conscience is. “The bad conscience is an illness, there is no doubt about that, but an illness as pregnancy is an illness” (88). Pregnancy is first of all an illness that can only last for a certain length of time. After nine months, either the illness kills you, or you are then able to return to being healthy. Also, pregnancy is a kind of illness for the mother, but is not for the baby. In fact, it is only because of the illness that the baby can be. It is also only because the mother endures the illness and does not seek treatment for it that the baby is allowed to be born. This ‘illness’ is both a positive and negative symptom of modern society and slave morality. It is positive because it leads to the ubermensch, but it is also negative because it is a kind of nihilism that is life-denying.
Nietzsche describes this illness in reference to Europe. “Here precisely is what has become a fatality for Europe – together with the fear of man we have also lost our love of him, our reverence for him, our hopes for him, even the will to him. The sight of man now makes us weary-what is nihilism today if it is not that? – We are weary of man” (44). Here Nietzsche is recognizing the illness as nihilism, but rather than remove the problem, he is in fact advocating that we must embrace man. This does not mean that we look past his faults, but rather that we recognize the illness for what it is, and move beyond our current, nihilistic conception of ourselves. At the end of the second essay, Nietzsche argues that the “man of the future” will “redeem us not only from the hitherto reigning ideal but also from that which was bound to grow out of it, the great nausea, the will to nothingness, nihilism” (96). This man of the future is not just wishful thinking, but “he must come one day” (ibid).
Given Nietzsche’s insistence on necessity, it makes sense that this man of the future must come. But what will this look like exactly? Is it Hegelian/Marxian insofar as it is a dialectical process?
Friday, April 13, 2012
Necessity and Value
"But how could we presume to blame or praise the universe? Let us be on our guard against ascribing to it heartlessness and unreason, or their opposites; it is neither perfect, nor beautiful, nor noble; nor does it seek to be anything of the kind, it does not at all attempt to imitate man! It is altogether unaffected by our aesthetic and moral judgments! Neither has it any self-preservative instinct, nor instinct at all; it also knows no law. Let us be on our guard against saying that there are laws in nature. There are only necessities: there is no one who commands, no one who obeys, no one who transgresses. When you know that there is no design, you know also that there is no chance: for it is only where there is a world of design that the word 'chance' has a meaning" (Book III, paragraph 109).
Nietzsche's point here is similar to the one he makes in the Geneology of Morals about the strong acting strong and the weak acting week. It is absurd (says Nietzsche) to fault the strong for being strong. It is who they are. In both texts, what Neitzsche is basically saying is that there is no such thing as an 'ought' claim, only 'is' claims. Saying something ought to be a certain way can be true regardless of whether that thing is that way or not. For Neitzsche, this is complete fiction. We may be able to imagine the ability to make such claims, but they have no relationship to the real world. According to this logic, morality is meaningless because it prescribes normative claims about the way we should act.
By arguing this, Nietzsche’s critique goes beyond the current ‘slavish’ moral systems we have today. Yes, asking the strong to be weak is absurd, but in a way, so is asking them to be strong. If Nietzsche is right, then ‘asking’ to do anything is not appropriate, regardless of what we are asking. The insight that ‘there are only necessities’ not only questions the legitimacy of slave morality, but also any kind morality in general. It questions the possibility of values in general. If everything is necessity, then my choosing to value something as good or bad (or any other value for that matter) is also a necessity. In this way, the noble morality falls into a similar problem if it is articulated as the principle ‘might is right’ or ‘might determines right.’ What this principle assumes is that the strong deserve to make choices about what good and bad mean. But this is just as problematic as allowing the weak to determine good and evil.
Perhaps this is why in addition to warning us that we shouldn’t think of the world as perfect, eautiful, or noble, we should also “guard against ascribing to it heartlessness and unreason.” The universe is neither organized nor unorganized, it just is. This appears to me to be a very strange metaphysical stance. It seems like such a world is devoid of any meaning. While many have argued that Nietzsche is a nihilist, Nietzsche himself says that nihilism is one of the worst consequences of slave morality and is something he wants to avoid.
How can Nietzsche advocate for a particular way of looking at the world when there is only necessity? Nietzsche often uses medical metaphors, arguing that people in the modern world are ‘sick.’ How can Nietzsche make a judgment claim about sickness? Why not prefer sickness to health? Sickness, after all, is a natural phenomenon. Isn’t it ‘necessary’ for people in the modern world to be sick?
Judgments as Rank-Ordering
The protest might go: "If we subscribe to some moral system (e.g., a deontological theory like Kant's), then our judgments/actions are not motivated to establish rank but rather to do the right/good thing (like acting for the sake of duty and the moral law). I think Nietzsche's naturalist approach will be helpful in seeing how even these moral judgments/actions are still in fact rank-ordering. Given Nietzsche's set-up of master (aristocratic, Homeric, etc.) values and the oppression experienced by slave peoples, it seems then that moral theories, or morality in general, seem to arise as an expression of ressentiment of these slaves. The very nature of this expression is indicative of the higher motive to invert the values of master morality. We should note a distinction here, a sort of dual-way we can look at morality: either as (1) within a moral system or (2) outside of a moral system (such as the naturalist perspective). Within the confines of a given moral system, actions and judgments are never regarded as rank-ordering. However, if we step outside of these confines into the perspective of the naturalist observer, we see that these ostensibly "good deeds" actually have an ulterior motive to invert the values of the master class -- and inverting values is in fact one way of establishing rank. The ulterior motive of any morality project then seems intrinsically rank-ordering.
For comments, is there a way that we can view morality from an objective third-person standpoint (not as an adherent to the moral system) and still see moral judgments as actions as genuinely for the sake of the good, or are we forced to admit that there is always an ulterior rank-ordering motive?
Friday, April 6, 2012
Is Abraham "behind the world"?
1. Regarding our conversations about whether or not there is a religion grounding the telos of the ethical… if theology is separated from morality of Nietzsche, how does this relate to Kierkegaard’s understandings of the groundings of the ethical. I’m sure the answer to this will arise in our readings of Nietzsche, but I generally think of lessons in theology as grounding the origins of “good” and “evil” and our rules of what are good and bad actions as being received from theological teachings.
2. Would Nietzsche consider the Abraham story to be something that is “behind the world” or part of our actual experience? If thinking of morality in terms of God is to not look at historical/anthropological evidence, how would the Abraham story classify? Would Nietzsche count it as something that is part of human history? Or something that is a “lesson” from God, something “behind the world”? In reading his later discussion on the relationship between Judaism and Christianity I would think that Nietzsche would consider the development of these religions as part of the history of people that concepts of “good” and “evil” came from, as he describes the evolutions of the language, but Nietzsche does not want to consider the story of Adam and Eve as the origin of good and evil? Nietzsche’s references to the writings of Tertullian at the end of Essay One would give me reason to believe that he would consider the actions/repercussions of the Abraham story as legitimate contributions to the evolution of “good” and “evil”, however I’m not sure that Nietzsche would agree with the way Kierkegaard describes the story. Does Kierkegaard refer to the story in a too “behind the world” way for Nietzsche?
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Towards Kierkegaard's Lessons
Firstly, Kierkegaard is upping the price of faith, and therefore making Christianity as a whole more expensive. He is showing the rarity (and horror) of faith, asserting the almost inhuman courage it involves, and thus rendering faith priceless. Moreover, this is not only an attack on non-believers who disregard faith as easy, something anyone could do. It also seems to be aimed at those believers too who assert that they have faith; Kierkegaard wants to show how faith is not a commodity. He shows how the leap of faith does not involve a small gap but rather an ever-widening gulf, one that very few are selected to jump in the first place. Perhaps, then, Kierkegaard is suggesting that most people are not required to have faith in order to be Christians. Since faith is such an exclusive thing, Christians are only required to believe in God and admire, as well as respect, the suffering and strain faith requires. Rather than using Abraham as the model of faith, Kierkegaard calls him the father of faith, which suggests a guiding figure who, rather than expecting actual reproductions of his faith in his followers, requires only belief in God and his use as a great guiding figure to Christians.
Secondly, Dr J suggested a more abstact, overarching interpretation of Kierkegaard's aim. That is, Kierkegaard may be using the story of Abraham, and the faith that thereby results, as an analogy of the paradox humans are forced to face in their everyday lives. In other words, it makes visible, if not understandable, the fact that we are forced -- everyday -- to live with the paradox that I mean everything and nothing. We are required to believe both these contradictory things simultaneously. In a certain sense then, the Abraham story is able to elaborate on a fundamental aspect of human life.
Are there any other lessons in which Kierkegaard would have been interested?
Friday, March 30, 2012
Reposing of the Question
I don't have a positive thesis to put forward here, but I have re-articulated the sentiments we had over "what the point" of all this is about. For comments, I think it might be insightful to provide a defense for why we should consider faith as something intrinsically valuable. From Kierkegaard, it seems sort of taken for granted that faith is good and something to be achieved, but his description of it makes the value of its attainment very dubious.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Questions about the Third Retelling
Abraham's Breasts
Faith's Disturbing Repercussions
While I think I am able to brush the contours of understanding here, I am unable to understand how this argument can be applied practically. If the irrationality and singularity of faith is applied in practice, it seems to involve worrying repercussions, and I can't seem to see beyond these consequences. Maybe it wasn't Kierkegaard's aim for it to be applied practically, but surely he wanted faith to be something that is adopted, or rather taken up as "a task for a whole lifetime" (Kierkegaard 23). If this is the case, then how would Kierkegaard respond to cases in which people literally emulate the story of Issac and Abraham, except without the happy ending? This is no insignificant worry, for there have been instances of exactly this. A few years ago I read an article about a mother who drowned her four kids, claiming that God had told her to do it. There seems to be a whole collection of reports on this; here is a link to a similar article http://articles.cnn.com/2004-04-03/justice/children.slain_1_deanna-laney-jury-rules-god?_s=PM:LAW.
How are these examples any different from the story of Abraham, except that 'God' allowed them to go through with the murders? Surely, then, by Kierkegaard's logic, these murderous mothers are even better exemplifications of faith, because they actually had to go through with the murder. Why are these mothers categorised as insane, while Abraham is considered the "father of faith"? For there is no way to show that these women didn't actually hear God, in the same way that there was no way to prove that God ordered Abraham to sacrifice his son. Like Abraham, in fact, these women satisfy the fundamental characteristic of faith: the belief in the proof of things that can't be proved.
In brief, I find the irrationality and incommunicability of faith extremely disturbing. It seems to me like a facade behind which to hide, but maybe that is because I have been sold the 'cheap' version of faith and I'm entangled in and too attached to universals. But even if this is so, Kierkegaard's assertion that faith transcends the ethical realm (because of its dependence on universals) and therefore that it suspends the ethical, seems to result in horrific actions such as the ones mentioned above. What good is Kierkegaard doing then? What is his aim? Because to me all it seems to do is exonerate or excuse these people when they are insane and in fact the need help. I am open to anyone showing me that I have completely missed the point!
Faith and Kierkegaard
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Back to the Bible
After our conversation on Tuesday, I decided to dust off my New Oxford Annotated Bible and look back over the story of Abraham. One dispute we were having was about the covenant that God makes with Abraham concerning his fathering of nations. According to my translation, God says “this is my covenant with you: You shall be the ancestor of a multitude of nations” (Genesis 17:4). One question that was raised was whether or not Isaac was necessarily the fulfillment of this covenant. While it is true that Abraham actually had a son before Isaac with the slave Hagar, my translation at least makes it pretty clear that the covenant God is making with Abraham not only names Sarah as the mother but tells Abraham to name their son Isaac and that it is through him that He will keep his covenant: “your wife Sarah shall bear you a son, and you shall name him Isaac. I will establish my covenant with him as an everlasting covenant for his offspring after him” (Genesis 17:19). This passage shows that God’s covenant rests on miracle that Sarah, in her old age, bore a son. Even though this was a miracle, there isn’t really any reason for Abraham to think that God might establish another covenant with him through another son.
As for the actual passage of the binding of Isaac, God says too Abraham “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I shall show you” (Genesis 22:2). While God doesn’t explicitly say that He won’t provide another son if Abraham kills Isaac, He does emphasize the fact that Isaac is Abraham’s only son, and that he is a son Abraham loves. This is obviously a big deal for Abraham, yet he complies without complaint. He also briefly discussed whether Abraham could have known that God wouldn’t actually make him sacrifice his own son. Before Abraham tells Isaac that the Lord will provide the lamb for the burnt offering, he tells the two attendants: “stay here with the donkey; the boy and I will go over there; we will worship, and then we will come back to you” (Genesis 22:5). While this might suggest that Abraham assumes that both of them will be returning, it could also be Abraham concealing the true purpose of their travels from Isaac. When the angel comes down to stop Abraham from killing Isaac, he says “for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me” (Genesis 22:12). This wording seems to indicate that what Abraham needed was fear and devotion. This makes it seem like Abraham was being praised for trusting in God and being willing to sacrifice his son for His sake, instead of believing in a paradox.
What, if any, does this textual evidence suggest? Does it support Kierkegaard’s interpretation of the Abraham story? In what ways might the translation play a part in the way we understand this story today?
Unsettling Paradox?
I realize that there is a great difference between religion and the concept of faith that we were talking about yesterday, but I think they are linked if the cheapened version of faith gave way to religion and religious organization today. What I’m wondering (the point of all this rambling) is, if the purpose of religion/faith (at least for many) is to find comfort, is it possible that we utilize religion in a way that includes true faith (as according to Kierkegaard)? Could people find “having faith” in the paradox fulfilling in the way they find organized religion fulfilling? If Kierkegaard explains faith as accepting paradox, does this imply that being a person of “faith” (be it Christian, Jewish, Muslim, anything) involves accepting paradox, though it may be unsettling? Then where is the comfort and safety of religion? Or maybe coming to find peace with the paradox is the path of finding faith and religion becomes obsolete? Maybe this is where the “cheapened” version comes into play. People are under the impression that faith/religion/spiritual life should be the “easy” and comforting counterpart to the rest of life that is hard to understand.