from Waking Life:

Percy's The Last Gentleman

I waited until now to post this because I was waiting to finish Walker Percy’s The Last Gentleman. Though I read it for my English class, it deals with a classic existential problem. The main character, Will Barrett is an ex-pat of the pre-desegregation South, who is floating through life in Manhattan. His father killed himself, as did his grandfather. Each generation of his family has become increasingly more introverted and less prone to action. Will is, himself, always in a state of dis-ease. He is always going to a Freudian analyst or looking for someone to diagnose his problem. Will meets the Vaughts, a Southern family, in New York, and moves back to Georgia with them. The Vaughts’ all live lives of bad faith, each of them trying to fit a stereotype. Rita, the Vaughts’ ex-daughter-in-law, represents Kierkegaard’s aesthetic realm, while their daughter-turned-nun, Val, has stepped all the way up to the Religious realm. Sutter, the Vaught’s adult son is a troublemaker who stubbornly teeters on the edge of religious but refuses to acknowledge that he must make the leap on his own. Will suffers the same difficulty. He lives in bad faith squarely in the ethical realm, and he is looking for someone or some thing to cure him of his lack of the divine. After will goes on a journey of discovery to find Sutter and the Vaught’s youngest son, Jamie, he realizes that no one can make the leap of faith for him, and so he must take it upon himself. In a very Sartrian sequence, he comes to understand his father’s suicide, Sutter’s suicide attempt, and Jamie’s young death. Having faced death, Will understands that he is free (in the sense Sartre uses “free”) and that he must make a leap of faith on his own. I think that this story illustrates how Sartre fits into Kierkegaard very well, and lays out the Christian Existentialist process.

The Neverending Story

For the sake of my argument, I hope that several of you are familiar with the film “The Neverending Story” and its decent, though less spectacular, sequel, “The Neverending Story II.” As I was watching these movies recently, I noticed afresh that the evil forces could pontentially be read through an existential lens. In the first movie, it is called The Nothing; in the second movie, it is The Emptiness.

First, let me explain the setting of these movies. Fantasia is the world of dreams, imagination, and ‘make believe’ in general. Potentially, one could even assert that Fantasia is imagination itself. The Nothing of the first movie is destroying Fantasia and reducing it to non-being. It is an inexplicable, unknown evil. It destroys; creatures fear it, but they do not know why. One could look to Tillich’s theories of anxiety about non-being. The creatures are powerless to stop it in large part because The Nothing is not a particular object. Tillich notes that “anxiety strives to become fear.” If The Nothing manifested itself in an object or a person, then the creatures of Fanstasia could potentially fight it and save their world.

The “real boy” of the movies is Bastian who comes across the story of Fantasia in a dusty book. He is in complete control of Fantasia. Just by believing in it, it exists. The landscape and fate of Fantasia are all results of his imagination. Only he can stop The Nothing that is taking over Fantasia. The creatures beg him to do something about it. But Bastian thinks that he is too small and too young to make any decisions about Fantasia. Bastian ignores his transcendence because he believes that he is completely bound by his facticity(see Sartre’s theories of Bad Faith). Because Bastian is a pour-soi, a being with freedom, only he has the power to destroy and save Fantasia. If he were to allow Fantasia to be completely destroyed, which actually happens at one point, he would, in fact, create Nothing, as in Sartre’s negatites.

The Emptiness of the second movie is brought about by the end of memories. An evil witch steals one of Bastian’s memories every time he makes a wish. Once she has all of his memories, she can control Fantasia. When he loses all of his memories, also, he will become an agent of the witch. Tillich would see the witch as a Cynic. She is a staunch individualist who denies truth and reason for self-affirmation. She lacks meaning and seeks to take meaning from all others. She is empty because she lacks self-definition. She is trying to spread her Emptiness to Bastian and all of Fantasia. When the Emptiness is taking over Fantasia, everything becomes hollow. The giant Rock Biter, who surprisingly enough eats rocks, complains that he is hungry because all the good rocks are merely shells. Bastian finally conquers the Emptiness with Courage which Tillich defines as “self affirmation of being in spite of the fact of non-being.” Bastian jumps off a huge waterfall despite the fact that he is afraid of heights. He is beckoned by his father’s voice which embodies the last of his remaining memories.

While all of this is fascinating, I found myself wondering, why does Bastian care? He himself is not a denizen of Fantasia. If it is destroyed he will still exist.

Americans and War: A Satrean Analysis of the Public's Response to American Foreign Policy

As I was perusing today's online edition of the New York Times, I skimmed over the main headlines as I usually do: "Yankees and Sabathia Near a Deal" ... "Obama Calls for Governor Under Siege to Step Down" ... "U.S. Forces Kill 6 Afghan Police Officers By Mistake" ... "Best Bets in Cameras, Under $300" ...

Wait a second. Rewind.
"U.S. Forces Kill 6 Afghan Police Officers By Mistake"
That sounds like kind of a big deal. My country was responsible for the deaths of six innocent Afghanis. Today. So why the hell did I just skip over that headline? How many other similar headlines have I skipped over the past five or six years? Why did I do that? And is this normal? Are most other Americans just as guilty of this as I am? Sadly, I think the answer to that last question is -- Yes.

I was and am appalled at myself for doing this -- for so haphazardly skipping over such a news story as disgusting and angering as that one. So I began to analyze why exactly I did such a thing, and I found myself unable to do so without the philosophies of both Sartre and Beauvoir coming to mind. With regard to Sartre -- it seems to me that we as Americans have been conditioned all of our lives to reduce those involved in such tragedies to their mere facticity. With regard to Beauvoir -- we've clearly been conditioned to even more so disregard the "enemy" as the Other. It wasn't until soldiers in Vietnam began coming home and telling the horrifying stories of napalm usage and until video footage surfaced of the atrocities taking place, that the public really began to become outraged at what was happening. The same is true today regarding the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Those aren't real life men and women dying needlessly every day - they're "soldiers" or "Iraqis" or "Vietnamese". Unless we have a loved one or friend over there in harm's way, the reality of what is really going on doesn't really register unless we actually stop and think about it.

Imagine for a second if our high school textbooks didn't say that "58,000+ Americans were killed as a result of the Vietnam War" but rather "58,000+ real live men and women with hearts and souls and mothers, fathers, children, husbands, and wives were killed in the Vietnam War". See, now I think that would really cause students to stop and think a little more; to not reduce these people to their facticity; and to realize and have great concern for what types of actions our government is involved in.

Similarly, if that New York Times headline instead read "U.S. Forces Kill 6 Human Beings by Mistake", I probably wouldn't have so nonchalantly skimmed over it. But the mass media conditions us to do just that. Hell, this wasn't even one of the main headlines. I may be crazy, but I think this should be a big deal. Our government mistakenly murdered six people. Six people. But the powers-that-be lead us to believe that our government mistakenly murdered six police officers, or six Afghans, or six soldiers. Whether it be the various media sources or our elected officials, I think that the bottom line is that our society conditions us to see those directly impacted by our overseas involvements in terms of their facticity, and not in their transcendent qualities.

Existentialism: Thoughts on the Semester and Unanswered Questions

This semester of Existentialism has been a roller coaster ride of thoughts, feelings, and questions. I have found myself leaving class in a number of different moods throughout the semester; sometimes depressed, sometimes feeling like I have come to a solid realization about some part of life. While it sometimes feels that I have gained no ground overall, I think that this is in no way a bad thing. Existentialism has proven to be the most exciting and most thought provoking class I have taken during my time at Rhodes thus far. The skeptical feelings I had regarding the usefullness of the class prior to the commencement of the semester were quickly destroyed upon reading authors such as Kierkegaard, Sartre, and Camus. Prior to the beginning of classes, I had it in my mind that existentialism was just going to lead me in a circle of thoughts and ultimaterly answer no questions. I guess that I expected this while hoping that at some point during the semester the meaning of life would be discovered. Although this certainly did not happen, the level of thought which I experienced during the semester as well as the conversations brought forth in class have made me think more about life and existence than I ever thought I would. Despite these gains though, the largest question, for me at least, still remains. I have struggled throughout the semester on the topic of God and religion and how these two things relate to existential thought. As someone brought up in a culture where religion is often the only type of existential thought experienced, this class came as a bit of a shock. Reading authors such as Sartre and Nietzsche for the first time really made me take a close look at aetheism and examine the thought of life and freedom without God. I guess it killed me at first because it seemed to make too much sense what Sartre said...not so much Nietzsche, I still have trouble buuying in to slave and master morality talk... I felt that religion had been holding me back in my critical evaluation of life and the meaning of freedom. However, as the semster draws to a close, I still find myself completely confused. While Sartre and Camus make sense in their attacks on religion, religious existentialists such as Kierkegaard have made a profound influence on my way of thinking as well.

I guess ultimately I find myself asking the question, can you really be religious and an existentialist at the same time? This semester has been wonderful in that I have addressed questions which I never thought I would. The fact that many of them are still unanswered no longer bothers me. As Camus said, it's the struggle which makes meaning.

Note: I made a comment regarding this question after Jen's Thanksgiving post. I think its pretty thought provokng and I'd love to hear you guys' feelings.

P.S. Tom Robbins rocks.

Ok, so I know this is kinda last minute, but from what I've been hearing from everyone all semester, I think a lot of you guys would like the author Tom Robbins. He's super hippie, political, and sometimes absolutely ridiculous but he's an absolutely wonderful writer with lots of interesting things to say and lots of weird stories. I read 3 of his books at the end of the summer. I'm newly obsessed. Even Cowgirls Get the Blues is a hilarious (and sort of existential) book (and movie) that I would reccomend to everyone who's not too shocked by some graphic language and strange metaphors. Half way through it, I thought it was ridiculous and almost stopped reading it, but by the time I got to the end I wanted to read all his novels. Here's a trailer for the movie to show you how wierd it is, but keep in mind he's got some really good messages in the book. But since I can't do the computer thing you just get the link.

The existential Catch-22

A while back, we had to read a tiny passage from Joseph Heller's Catch-22 and it really got me thinking. I read Catch-22 about four years ago as a summer reading assignment for my English class in high school (it was either that, or Amy Tan's The Joy Luck Club). At the time, I read the book without looking for any sort of deeper meaning. I really enjoyed the book, but liked it mainly for its humor and unforgettable characters. Although Catch-22 remains one of my favorite books since then, I never took the time to really examine the meanings found in it. So I was a little surprised when it popped up for this Existentialism class. I had never even considered relating Yossarian to anything existential. After our reading, it really got me thinking about the book in its entirety, and I've found that a lot of Catch-22 is extremely existential, not just that little quip. 

Catch-22 is all about the absurd and the finite. Taking place in WWII, Catch-22 follows Yossarian and several other characters in a U.S. Army Air Force on an island in the Mediterranean. The very time setting of the novel is related to existentialism- the existentialist movement was very popular following the end of WWII. The main character Yossarian is obsessed with the idea of his own end. It really reminded me a lot of what we read on Camus. Yossarian is in this absurd situation and has full realization of it and his ultimate end. I think Yossarian is a lot like Sisyphus. Yossarian is a man who lives life to the fullest, hates death, and is condemned to a seemingly meaningless task within an absurd system. 

A critique of bureaucratic operation and reasoning, Catch-22 compares the bureaucratic system to Camus' idea of the absurd. The absurd for Camus arises when our human need to understand is suddenly confronted by the unreasonableness of the world. It is like trying to understand the catch-22. Yossarian inquires as to why he can't be grounded if he's crazy. Doc Daneeka tells him that catch-22 requires that if someone is crazy, they can be grounded, but only if they ask. The problem is, if you ask to be grounded, you are showing concern for your personal well being, and therefore cannot be considered crazy. You try to understand, but are confronted by the absurdity and unreasonableness of it all. "That's some catch, that Catch-22," Yossarian observed. 

Although the absurd is the main thing I got out of rethinking and remembering Catch-22, there's still more. Throughout the novel, Yossarian is constantly confronted by death and the finiteness of human existence. So many of his friends simply die throughout the book (don't worry, I won't give names and spoil it for you). Yossarian has the constant angst that accompanies the realization of your own end.

Reviewing Catch-22 and finding so many little existential connections makes me really wonder what else I've been reading that might be considered essentially existential. I don't think I'll be able to read another book or watch another movie without wondering and searching for these possible connections. This class will have made me into an existential critical reader. It has convinced me that once you go existential, you can't go back. 

Is Existentialism really that depressing?

Up until reading Miller and Roth, I didn’t really realize why people thought existentialism was that depressing. Sure I can understand why some might find the fact that Sartre so cooly writes off the existence as God as depressing but, after all, we still have the freedom to make our lives meaningful in just the way we want them to be meaningful. Now how is that depressing?!
I use to hate the way high school English teachers would make us sit and analyze “what the writer really meant” when he wrote a certain passage. I feel that that strategy is important for both the Roth and Miller excerpts though. I’m fascinated by the way that authors are able to turn a story into something so much more meaningful than simple entertainment. And I’m particularly fascinated with the way Miller was able to write such an influential American play that is really, pretty depressing.

Miller was able to illustrate some of the fundamentals of existentialism but creating a character who acts in complete antithesis to existential ideals. Willy Loman strives his whole life for the American Dream, becoming successful and taking care of his family, but he goes about it in all the wrong ways up until the very end of his life.

The introduction to the excerpt in our book claims that Willy “makes a final heroic gesture” (376) by killing himself. Now, according to the oh-so-reliable Wikipedia, a hero is some who, “in the face of danger and adversity or from a position of weakness, display courage and the will for self-sacrifice.” The problem, however, is that there is no danger or adversity. His wife explains in the Requiem that the final house payment was made and that “for the first time in thirty-five years we were just about free and clear” (377). Had he been more aware of his family he could have changed jobs early on to find something that would make him happy and take care of the money issues his family was facing.

It seems to me that Willy was trying to live in his facticity, but the problem was, he wasn’t actually living in his real facticity. He was putting up a front of what he thought a successful business with a successful family man would act like, but whenever that front was challenged, Willy responded by lashing out and then falling to shambles with the realization that he is not successful and that’s all he ever strived for in life. Willy is the prime example of what can happen to people when they make excuses and put things off in their lives. Willy never took responsibility for his lack of success as a business man throughout his life, but in the end he ultimately took on responsibility for all his mistakes in life by killing himself for the insurance money.

For me, it’s depressing to think that I have no control over my life. Yeah, it’s a little depressing to dwell on the fact that there very well can be no meaning to life, but instead of dwelling on that aspect, why not ponder how to make your life the most meaningful? That seems pretty great to me.

The Power of Philosophy - psychiatric style

Today at the Rat, while waiting in the stir-fry line, I was discussing my classes with the guy that makes the soft-serve ice cream at the Rat (who, by the way, is an amazingly caring and genuine individual who everyone should take the time to get to know). The usual question arose of what I was majoring in, and I told him that I was a Philosophy major, to which another person (who shall remain nameless) responded, “Philosophy?! Pshh! You must be one of those independently wealthy individuals...Why, the only thing people can do with a degree in Philosophy is teach people philosophy!” Although his comment was put in a sarcastic and annoying way, it *demonstrates a viewpoint held by many individuals (especially in the United States); namely that philosophers and students of philosophy contribute very little to the wellbeing of a society. Furthermore, it seems to be a common belief that philosophers merely criticize and cast seeds of doubt about anything and everything in the minds of others.

This harsh response elicited by the individual at the Rat today is hardly new to me (this type of criticism seems to be a trend for those concentrating in philosophy). Nevertheless, this particular situation made me think of what Foucault writes about in “Psychiatric Power”. Foucault might not have had this in his mind at all when he wrote this essay, but the way in which he describes the role and power of medical and psychiatric doctors in the past seems awfully familiar to how Philosophers are viewed in our society (at least by some).

It seems as though the job of philosophers in this day and age is to create a problem (or at least increase the size of a tiny “dilemma” to an absurd degree) simply so that they can analyze or provide solutions for it. In this way, philosophers can be seen as obtaining power through their own means. As is assumedly the case with these philosophers, Foucault describes the realm of the 18th century doctor (the hospital) in a similar manner: “Thus, [the hospital] was a place of observation and demonstration, but also of purification and testing. It constituted a …setup designed both to bring out and actually to produce the illness” (40). Thus the actions of the philosopher (played here by the doctor) aim to purify humanity of its nagging existentialist questions (the illness). However, rather than curing their patients, the philosophers’ critical evaluations and doubts do more harm than good. In this case, the philosopher acts as both the “propagator and reproducer” (41). However, in the case of Charcot, it was thought that he “actually produced the hysterical fit he described” (45). Thus, there are also cases that Foucault seems to suggest such as this one, in which the philosopher is the propagator, reproducer, and also the creator of the “illness”.

After this point, the analogy becomes blurry and difficult to decipher. However, whether he meant to or not, Foucault gives a fine analogy of how the philosopher is viewed in our society.

I Think I've Finally Located My Angst.

I know a bunch of my peers on their last lap of the Search experience are stressing over what to write about for their final paper. It's supposed to be about what values they've gleaned from their three trying semesters of Search, and you know what? I'd truly prefer doing that to this entry that I'm supposed to be culturing right now. I have so many ideas about what to blog about that I really don't have any at all. Since Existentialism is serving as my last F1 credit, I feel I can justify my inability to succinctly tagline what I'm about to say by calling this a summary of a semester's worth of value-generating experience.

See, there. Example number one. I work better with a preset task, one which outlines what I'm supposed to do, while giving me enough creative license to do what I want. Sound like something from this class? Sartre's coefficient of adversity jumps to mind whenever I'm faced with this idea of overwhelming freedom. When I'm not given a topic to write about, I'm completely at a loss for words. Like the crag that Sartre uses to illustrate his concept of situational freedom, assignment boundaries grant me access to the sort of academic freedom that is necessary for me to efficiently function as a student. I'm especially fond of Sartre's assertion that "there is freedom only in a situation, and there is a situation only through freedom" (243). My freedom to write intelligently about a subject is predicated on there being a situation to write about said subject and vice versa. It's just like how you can't just say, "Yeah, I have so much freedom," because the inevitable response would be, "To do/be what?"

Which brings me to my second striking realization in this class: freedom is what makes a human being. This has sort of been spoon fed to me, because while I really liked the notion that "cool, we're free," I needed to examine the depictions of this freedom by Dostoevsky (in his Underground Man's refusal to adapt to the formulaic life) and Sartre (through the splitting of facticity and transcendence, he pinpointed how integral freedom is to our very nature) to allow this assertion to sink in.

Thirdly, and most importantly, I have come to grips with the concept that what I choose to do is really all on me. I have the freedom to choose to submit this blog entry or not. I have the freedom to set up parameters in which my intellectual freedom can operate so that my limited mind power can focus its energies on writing about one thing coherently. I have the freedom to not do that and have (what I fear this might be turning into) a really muddled stream-of-consciousness mess. I have freedom in any situation, no matter how dire. The responsibility factor, of course, requires a few assumptions. Like in any Physics experiment, a vacuum is necessary, so if I can fiat the total lack of preestablished values in this world (not even from religion, society, upbringing), I become responsible for the values that I create for myself and the subsequent decisions I make based on those values. Scary much?

Most recently, the possibility of an end to meaning-finding has been plaguing me. Since my quest for meaning really is utterly my own responsibility, the end of it (perhaps due to an overload of tragedy--an OD on Frankl's pain, guilt, and death) would also be my fault; would it not? I can't blame those external factors which might have driven me to depression because, after all, isn't sadness just another state of being with which I "affect myself" (231)? True I can't begin to comprehend the resilience of the human mind to tragedy, and one could contend that human freedom allows us to continue to find meaning regardless of what horrific things we suffer, but in spite of all that, this possibility of pointlessness is troubling.

I believe...no, I couldn't have. Have I stumbled upon what they call angst?

Economic Bailout

These are not my particular views, but I feel that it is an interesting alternative that must be considered. I want to propose a Nietzschian analysis of the economic bailout.

According to Friedrich Nietzsche, we are living in a slave like society. Society was not always this way, but as the many slaves began to resent and outnumber their masters, a shift occurred. This shift placed what was once “good,” being a powerful and controlling master, to “good” encompassing weakness and meekness of the slaves. What was once “good” was now considered “evil.” A premium was placed on the weakness of the slave because they were in majority. This shift also led to a sensation of a “herd mentality,” and the need to conform to society. Nietzsche despises these shifts because they are life-denying values, because the weak feel that they will be vindicated in another life (think Christianity), so they are resentful of this life. Nietzsche feels that this is completely unnatural, in a literal sense. In nature, it is know that the weak do not survive, something Nietzsche feels should translate into human existence. He also asserts that we have no responsibility to help the weak or the downtrodden, because it is not a naturalistic action, and is only sprung from such socially constructed emotions like compassion and sympathy.

That being said, why do we feel an obligation to endorse a government bailout, especially for companies like Ford, GMC and Chrysler? If they were a bad business, then, like in nature, they are simply not fit to survive in this world. An analogous situation that comes to mind is Wal-Mart. This company effective eliminated a large majority of competition like mom and pop stores, and continues to thrive. While some are critical of Wal-Mart’s “tyrannical” practices, the majority supports them buy buying there goods because they are at a low cost. They are successful because they eliminated competition and are still going strong. In a natural sense, they were the “most fit” species of retailers to see another day.

Nietzsche would assert that it is when feeble emotions delude our mind to feel sympathy and a need to help these people who have already failed. When the government bails them out, they are effectively saying, “this is how your business ought to be: successful and sustaining jobs for Americans.” Yet this denies the reality that they are failing, and therefore fundamentally should face elimination without sympathy from others, according to Nietzsche. Any sympathy or need to empathize with those that lose jobs or suffer from a non-bailout situation is considered weak and slavish. The bailout is already ideologically at odds with a pure form of capitalism, but also in contrast if you subscribe to a form of social Darwinism that Nietzsche endorses. This ultimately begs the questions: should ethical standards be ascribed to economy at all? If yes, where do ethics come into play when dealing with an economy?

Two Things:

1. We often discuss individual responsibility, because what should we say about the responsibility of others? Consider this excerpt from Heller’s Catch-22:

“From now on I am only thinking only of me.”
Major Danby replied indulgently with a superior smile, “But Yosarian, suppose everyone felt that way?”
“Then I’d certainly be a—fool to feel any other way, wouldn’t I?”

One of the basic components that we often discuss in existentialism is that we must always be responsible for our actions. However, is it always in the best interest to always think only of your own duties? Would it necessarily follow that if you and every other individual thinks only of himself, that some form of order would be present? I am probably wrong to desire order, because it is an absurd notion. This present life is the only system that I have experienced, but I find it far-fetched that if we all function as individuals that we would be in the same situation as now (which may or may not be desirable). I feel like that if we are acting in a bubble of responsibility, we have reduced ourselves to a machine-like state. But man is unwilling to be reduced to a formulaic life (Dostoevsky), there that is why we feel needs to attach ourselves to group identities and assume responsibilities outside of strict individualistic goals like surviving. This is also at odds with Nietzsche, but so is my life in general (no apologies Fred). So where must we draw the line of the extent of our and others responsibility?

2. Do we really have anything to say to each other? This question is posed by Harold Pinter. The selection in the book is very short on page 372. When I consider the dialogue that I generate out of class, I find it meaningless at the core. It is about meaningless things like TV shows or how hungry I am, etc. These things are not only meaningless to me when I analyze them, but I can only imagine how worthless they are to an audience. I am not much for words anyway, but it seems that Pinter might have a point here. Not all conversation is necessary, but the social nature of human existence proves this wrong (at least in America). To me, conversation might fall along the lines of Kafka’s view of the absurd, but what are your thoughts?

Meaningless or Meaningful?

It seems to me that most people, when asked if their life is meaningless or meaningful, ponder the question for a moment, then almost always answer with "meaningful." Is there such thing as a meaningless life? I think so. People always hesitate before answering the question, because they really do have to think about whether their life has meaning. The way I see it, a person's life is only meaningful if they give it meaning. It's a simple concept. There is no meaning until it is imparted. However, who is to say that meaning will last? The thing that gives your life meaning may be there one day and gone another, therefore leaving your life meaningless. So, is there really a reason to give your life meaning. I guess people just do it to feel important. You can even hear people talk about their jobs with some sense of misplaced importance,"Yea, they wouldn't survive without me working here." People impart importance to feel special, and it works for the most part. I just don't see the purpose of it. You feel important for a month, then get fired, and your previous job doesn't randomly explode. Everything keeps moving without the self-important swagger of that self-important employee, and that person is broken. It's like people give their life meaning in the one place where it is most likely to fail and be taken away. People set themselves up for pain and disaster, almost like we have an innate sense that tells us that we have to make ourselves a flimsy cocoon of happiness that has to be easily broken. I don't know if this is true for everyone, but it is definitely what I have seen. And I definitely think that self-important existentialists promote this. Comments?

Be Bad, Don't Be Evil

Over the semester, I have constantly been drawn back to one philosopher when consulting how one should act whilst in the world. The philosophers we have read over the semester offer multifold distinctions between being in the world, being with others, and being alone within one’s own mind. While this all well and good, I have always leaned toward Nietzsche’s view of the world in terms of life-affirming and life-denying principles. Nietzsche begins his section on Good and Evil/Bad by discussing the transition from the morality system of Good and Bad to Good and Evil.

Nietzsche determines that the “good” was determined by those who where in fact good; the nobles. He then goes on to discuss how being able to name things was a manifestation of the nobles’ power. He then traced the origins of the terms “good” and “bad,” stating that the former came from a concept of something noble or aristocratic, whereas the latter originated from terminology for common things. Nietzsche also discusses the knightly-aristocratic system of valuation, which prized good health, strength, and war. He contrasts this with the priestly system of valuation, which was based on impotence and brooding with intermittent outbursts.

Eventually, the priestly class’ hatred festers into something so great that it can force a radical revaluation of values. Nietzsche says of the priestly caste “The truly great haters in the history of the world have always been priests…also the most ingenious haters” (81). He then traces how the priestly caste manages to force a radical change in human history, causing a revaluation of values, into those of the priestly caste. Now, from “Good and Bad” morality has turned to “Good and Evil.” How exactly did this come about? Nietzsche traces what he calls a “slave revolt in morality” (82), stating that it began when the slavish, impotent ressentiment of the priestly caste becomes a creative force and gives birth to its own set of values. This is where we see a dichotomy in the origin of the two morality systems: Master-morality, which is based on self-affirming virtues and is worried little with external forces which it cannot change, and Slave-morality, which is built on a reactive force (which reacts to external stimuli primarily) as opposed to a truly creative one.

In order to better understand the difference between Master and Slave moralities, Nietzsche tells a story about lambs and birds of prey, stating that the lambs blame the birds of prey and hate them for being so evil, whereas the birds of prey are merely concerned for their livelihood, and harbor no grievances against the lambs. This passage also highlights the introduction of the double-doing of slave morality, stating that the birds of prey are faulted (by the lambs) for being…birds of prey. Nietzsche believes this to be ludicrous, like “separating the lightning from the flash” (83). For Nietzsche, the doer cannot be separated from the deed, for the deed is the expression of the doer’s strength (or weakness).

I believe Nietzsche’s description of the world is rather hard to argue with. He is very straightforward, and a lot of the things he details are intuitively true. I know it’s been a while since we went over his work, however it seems to be a pretty impeccable, if a bit harsh, criticism of western morality.

Tragic Optimism

When we discussed Victor Frankl in class about three weeks ago, I remember that some people seemed to have a problem with his "tragic optimism". This is the idea that all human experiences are led by 1.) pain 2.) guilt and 3.) death, and that humans can transform these experiences into something better or that these experiences can give someone meaning in their life. I do not quite remember the objections to this idea, but I was quite surprised that everyone in the class didn't agree.

Maybe I was so quick to support this because I have already experienced a very painful even in my life, and it took me a long time to heal from this experience. Though it is nothing that could be compared to the Holocaust, it did cause hours of self-reflection and numerous questions about society and tis values. While I would never wish my experience on anyone, it is only because of it that I am able to be the person I am today. It was difficult to take the pain and transform it into something good, to make my life benefit positively from something that awful, but I did it. That is something that I love about existentialism: so many of its facts are difficult to accomplish because they depend solely on the self, but once you truly achieve something on your own, you feel inspired to do more because it is in your power to handle it. It is the same thing with taking responsibility for your actions and not making up excuses to look better in front of someone else - if you did something stupid, don't blame it on the alcohol if you were drunk. Just admit to what you did and move on.

I definitely agree with Frankl's idea of "tragic optimism" in terms of 1.) pain and 3.) death and find it inspiring that a man who experienced the Holocaust, an unfathomably painful experience, still has faith in himself and in life to make it meaningful. When you consider everything this man went through, it puts a lot in perspective, and what is irritating are those people who are so caught up in their petty experiences, i.e. break-ups or bad grades. Some people can't get over themselves to try and make something meaningful out of any experience, and it is these people who would be the "they" in society.

Yet, I'm not so sure what Frankl meant by 2.) guilt. Maybe the thought that the guilt caused from a lie would lead you to stop lying and then you would consequently lead a better and more meaningful life. However, I feel like a lot of people do not feel guilty when they do something bad - it is only after they get caught do they feel guilty. That concept of guilt kind of throws everything off because it shows that people won't try and transform this experience until they are caught, and what if they are never caught? So what do you guys think Frankl meant by guilt? And if you are never caught doing anything bad like lying, but you do it everyday, are you still guilty?

Egocentricism and Bad Faith

We must turn the mind’s judging eye solely on ourselves if we are going to make an evaluative statement regarding bad faith. It can never be known whether the women on a date or a waiter working in a restaurant are acting in bad faith. Their actions can be seen but in no way can we know the intricacies of their thoughts and how their thoughts influence their actions. The reason I bring this up is because after Sartre’s lecture Existentialism is a Humanism he takes a few questions from the audience. One individual asks why Sartre thinks it is reasonable to judge people. Sartre responds that he only judges people in bad faith for that reason. (I would quote but I lent my book to someone). Nonetheless Sartre says he can reserve judgment for those in bad faith.
Without a long, serious talk it is not possible to know if someone else is acting in bad faith. I cannot sit down in a Chilis or Applebees and know whether or not someone is in bad faith. Witnessing two people on a date does not show any information about whether they are acting in bad faith or not. The waiter or the person on the date is the only one capable at those moments of being able to recognize if they are in bad faith or not. Their is nothing implicit in any actions that show bad faith.
I think Bad Faith should be an activity of egocentricity. It should only be turned on oneself and oneself only. For lying to yourself is a crime that you, the person you are lying to, can be both the judge and jury. With that settled, I hope the continued harassment of Chili’s employees by saying that they are ignoring their transcendence will stop.

Existentialism and Self-Identity

Existentialism and Self-Identity

After reading Luis Borges' Borges and I at least five times now I am still utterly and hopelessly confused. What are we supposed to do or think about the self? It is there in our head but that is about it. It can be reflected sometimes through speech but ultimately only small fractions that do not fully grasp it. It can be expressed through clothes or other forms of work but they all fail to fully capture a person's self--and these are put out there for world to view and judge and trivialize. Or it can be let alone to toil in the head.

I am not trying to argue for a Cartesian mode of self, but i am not arguing against it. I am merely trying to figure out what role it plays in existentialism. If you are fully aware of your actions which I think is a staple to Sartre's makeup of existentialist thought: "what would happen if everyone did as one is doing?" Is it not the point of existentialism to shock you into a form of self-awareness that lets you realize you are in control of yourself. But isn't saying that you are in control of yourself also troubling? At what point when I am not reflecting on myself am I not in control? If I am washing plates, I can reflect on myself doing it. I can daydream or think on other matters and the dishes will still be done. Is that not odd? I could have been thinking in my head the whole time: "wash those dishes to perfection! What if everyone were to wash dishes like that?!?" But I didnt. I cannot do this though if I am reading a book. Is it not impossible to read a book and at the same time try and focus on yourself reading the book? If I were to do that I would have missed out what the book said. So what happens to the voice of self during the times of deep concentration? Is this situation not as solomon describes it: "The paradox of self-identity, Solomon says is the ultimate existentialist quandary."

The short excerpt from Borges ends by stating "I don't know which on of the two of us is writing this page." The two of us is referring to him and Borges which are the same person. Trying to distinguish between the two selves that "I like hourglasses, maps, eighteenth-century typography, etymologies, the taste of coffee, and Robert Louis Stevenson's Prose; he shares the preferences, but with a vanity that turns them into the attributes of an actor" I think if read this too much it will make me go crazy, but nonetheless it is extremely interesting. Is the mere typing of those lines about what he likes the vanity that is attributed to actors? It has to be, but how else could he express his point and why does it have to fall into this divide of think that knows, thinks reflects and thing that physically embodies these sentiments.

Does anyone else find this interesting/troublesome?

Cornell West, Race, and Existentialism

Before Thanksgiving break, Dr. Cornell West gave a guest lecture at University of Memphis. For those of you who don’t know or who weren’t able to attend, Dr. West is a well-known professor of philosophy at Princeton University, and arguably the most popular speaker on today’s college lecture-circuit. West is known for having an eccentric, yet charismatic persona, being a staunch social activist, his works on race, democracy, and religion, and most importantly his appearance in the last two installments of the “Matrix Trilogy”—ok, not really. But, nonetheless, Dr. West spoke on president-elect Obama and the iconic significance of an African-American president for racial reconciliation.

Although a paltry amount of his time was allotted to discussing Obama’s future as president, West purposefully integrated his own philosophy of social equality and racial injustice. In light of being in Memphis, West argued that all peoples oppressed identify themselves with a “blues people”. West praised the genius of musical figures like Isaac Hayes, John Coltrane, and Mile Davis, explaining how the musical genre of the blues is representative to all peoples outspoken of the social or racial struggles in life. Furthermore, West addressed the importance of music as a positive tool for enlightening others of social injustice. As an avid listener of hip-hop, it was fun hearing Dr. West allude to musicians like KRS-1, Dead-Prez, and Talib Qweli who fight to make a positive difference within the black culture.

Nevertheless, West frequently referred to the term “white-supremacy” in his speech. Though I find this term the least bit offensive—as I find the meaning of its essence to be true—I couldn’t help but think how an existentialist would react to this term. Just to clarify, West’s use of the term “white-supremacy” is in every way indistinguishable from Shia and Sunni contempt for Kurds, Chinese disdain for Tibetans, or Amin’s ethnic hate for Ugandan tribes. The term “white-supremacy” accounts for the subservient view of non-caucasian individuals in the U.S. In particular, this term applies historically to the racial injustice blacks have and continue to endure. Although I don’t take issue with the deplorable reality of such a term, I do find Dr. West’s solution problematic as I think Nietzsche would agree.

One other important aspect to note about Dr. West is that he is a self-proclaiming Christian. Additionally, West integrates New Testament morality with his remedies for racial injustice. Subtle references to “the cross” and the biblical examples of Jesus as a persecuted figure contribute to West’s argument that ultimately the “poor in spirit” and the oppressed will righteously prevail. After hearing his adamant views on social inequality and its application to the Bible, I immediately wondered what Nietzsche would think about racial reconciliation. After all, West’s message is that racially oppressed peoples have been martyred for years. The parallel between the racially “oppressed” with the racially “supreme” is highly analogous to Nietzsche criticism of “slave/master” morality. While “white supremacists” assume the role of a biologically superior breed of society, as historically solidified by economic and political “successes”, minorities identify themselves as “victims” in an unwanted racial stasis, leveraging their biological disposition against white elitists. According to Dr. West, festering resentment seems to be an integral part of a “blues people” (i.e. Nietzsche’s “slave mentality”). By disregarding racial norms, as pre-established norms set in place by “racially elite”, West encourages racial transcendence similar to Jesus’ transcendence of Jewish laws.

Thus, as an existentialist, how does one respond to a racially torn society. Does one have the right to collectively identify himself with the causes of one's own race, displaying resentment towards others races? Or simply revolt?

My point here is neither spurn racial awareness nor questions is legitimacy, but rather address an existential approach--in light of Dr. West's solution--to the imperative of racial reconciliation. Your thoughts?

Changing a Paradigm?

Michael and I made a late-night trip to Wendy's on Thursday evening, and we talked about the stigma that comes with Existentialist philosophy. This came up in class, too, when Dr. J told us about how the other professors she eats with crack jokes about existentialism like "why don't you just skip class and let them figure out what it means."

So most folks have a sort of general, half-baked idea of existentialism. Just to get an idea of it, here are the top three definitions of existentialism from Urban Dictionary (www.urbandictionary.com):

1. "you can use this word in pretty much any context and it will make you sound pretentious and/or confuse the person you're talking to." (strangely enough posted by someone with the handle "kierkegaard.")

2. "there is no spoon"

3."Existentialism in its purest form is any philosophy which states that existence precedes essence; that is to say, that there is no inherent purpose in life (though normally this is not carried through to nihilism.). It also states that the physical world does not necessarily precede the conscious state, as a conscious mind must find itself in a world to attain consciousness in any meaningful state."

So the third one is kind of getting closer to it, but we don't ever really get a satisfying description (number 5 talks about personal choice, but that's about it). The popular view of existentialism, I think, largely comes from very vague knowledge of certain phrases from Nietzsche and Sartre—from Nietzsche, "god is dead;" from Sartre, "hell is other people". Taken out of context, both of these bites just sound depressing, little maxims for pissed-off fifteen-year-olds. And that's enough for a lot of people to write it off as nihilistic, dark, and inexcusably French.

I think that the root of all this is the existentialist assertion that life has no inherent meaning—key word there being INHERENT. A month or so ago, the Sou'Wester published an editorial by a kid who was railing against postmodernism, reducing it to the idea that life is meaningless. It was a bad article, but it got me a bit riled. It basically positions postmodernism (which is broad and has enough problems on its own) or existentialism as synonyms for nihilism. Just because life has no inherent meaning doesn't mean we get to just throw up our hands and say "whatever."

So I wonder if there's much we can do to change the misconception. Existential thought is so ingrained in art and media that we don't even realize it most of the time. I've been thinking for a while about how art can be used to explain philosophical ideas; right now the popular conception of philosophy in general is a lot like the popular conception of existentialism: pretentious, boring, and pretty much useless if you want a job that pays money. So I wonder if it's possible to present philosophy in such a way that it reveals itself to the reader in a transparent, organic way. Consider the Bible: it's a collection of stories that, in it's own bizarre way, gives certain people an idea of the nature of being and an ethical system. It's the best-selling book of all time. So why can't we do the same things with philosophy through narrative?

On the other hand, why should I be concerned with how others see philosophy, or how they see me in light of it? Why am I annoyed by it? Should I feel any responsibility to change something that likely won't be changed?

Be Prepared to be Foucaulted (with some Butlering for good measure)

In class today, we touched on Foucault’s notion of discursive regimes of power, that is, a web of power relations that normalizes certain discourses, marginalizes others, and therefore produces truth. Foucault, along with his postmodern counterparts, is claiming the death of the subject insofar as the Cartesian ego, i.e., an essential and coherent subject, is nonexistent outside of discursive (and for other postmodernists, performative) practices. There is no prediscursive subject, just as Saussure declared there are no preexistent ideas outside of language. Foucault is drawing attention to the fact that our subjectivities, those things that inscribe our identity, are discursively constituted by a rhizome (rather than a hierarchy, to use Delueze’s term) of power relations that are at once political, economic, religious, medical, sexual, etc.

Every production of identity is an imitation, a representation of an idealized norm that serves regulatory purposes. Bodies are produced and governed through a regime of discourses—specific mechanisms by which knowledge is codified—and furthermore, themselves (re)produce the very power that produced them (to quote Dr. J). For example, Foucault defines sexuality (in his book the History of Sexuality Part 1) as independent of biology; rather it is the production of socially situated discourse. That is to say, there is no way to think about “natural” biology outside of scientific discourse. According to Foucault, beginning in the eighteenth century, sex became a means by which institutions (namely, the state) utilized biopower (the systematic control of bodies) through the monopolization of truth discourse and authoritative knowledge concerning sex:

What was involved…was the very production of sexuality. Sexuality must not be thought of as a kind of natural given which power tries to hold in check, or as an obscure domain which knowledge tries gradually to uncover. It is the name that can be given to a historical construct… (The History of Sexuality Part 1, 105).

This new deployment of sexuality was marked by an “interplay between truth and sex”—a scientia sexualis, which demanded that sex produce truth (Foucault 57). Scientific discourse, along with those discourses within the political and social spheres, materializes that which it names; that is, by the mere utterance, truth is produced, identity is circumscribed, and bodies are materialized.

Within this new play of (performative) discourse, there is no subject outside that regulatory discourse which normalizes. One way identity is formed is in the very “process of assuming a sex” because of the “truth” that sex produces (Judith Butler, Bodies That Matter). In this way, sex is not possessed by the subject or merely a description of the body of the subject, but is “one of the norms by which the ‘one’ becomes viable at all, that which qualifies a body for life within the domain of cultural intelligibility” (Ibid). Those that are outside this domain, the “abject”, constitute those subjects that have not assumed a normative sex, gender, religion, political allegiance, psychological category, etc. That is to say, the subject is defined only in relation to the abject, that which it is not. At the same time, the existence of the abject exposes the instability of normative categories, and serves as a means by which “the force of the regulatory law can be turned against itself to spawn rearticulations that call into question the hegemonic force of that very regulatory law” (Ibid). I mention Judith Butler because she proposes a theory for resistance that makes Foucault’s explanation of power seem not so hopeless after all.

Alright, I think that's enough Foucaulting for one blog, yes?

Marquez & Frankl

My assigned précis was to discuss Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s Love in the Time of Cholera. However, due to unforeseen events, my discussion was a little dysfunctional and brief. As I pondered what to “blog” about, I realized there was still some Marquez that I wanted to explore since the discussion in class touched on some of the questions I had but did not delve deep enough to satisfy me.

When I read Marquez, we had just discussed Frankl in the previous class and Frankl’s idea that all human experiences of pain, guilt, and death can be transformed into learning experiences, resolutions, and reflections. In Love in the Time of Cholera, Fermina Daza has just lost her husband and learned of her former lover, Florentino Ariza’s, undying love for her all in the same day. The grief that Fermina is feeling from the death of her husband alone is enough to cause her to wish for death, much less the emotional rollercoaster that Florentino has sent her on. Fermina is overcome by grief and confusion so much that, “crushed by grief, she prayed to God to send her death that night while she slept” (Solomon, pg. 363). It was at this part of the reading that I began to consider Frankl’s ideas about human experience of pain, guilt, and death. Fermina has just experienced all three. Death, obviously, pain caused by her grief, and guilt for all of the unsaid things that she should’ve told her dead husband and for the feelings she still has for her former lover. However, Fermina’s reaction to these experiences is to wish for death. The weight that they carry feels as though it is too much for her and that she would feel better if she were dead.

It is here where Frankl would suggest that Fermina learn from these experiences. According to Frankl, the optimum form of life transforms tragedy into meaning. The pain that Fermina is feeling is an opportunity for growth and reflection. It is in these moments that the true meaning of our lives is determined. These experiences can motivate us to make our lives meaningful while we are in it. Fermina’s tragic and painful experiences are giving her the opportunity to find the meaning in her life.

In the context of the plot of Love in the Time of Cholera, I believe that first act that Fermina can perform to transform tragedy into meaning is to accept Florentino’s love. Although it is a little hasty to move on with your ex after your husband has barely been in his grave for twenty-four hours, I think that here is a time and place for Fermina to resolve and reflect. At the end of the excerpt that we read, it is clear that Fermina realizes that she still has feelings for Florentino. If she does not return to him she will experience guilt, which will cause her more pain. It is almost as though she is given a second chance at love with the reappearance of Florentino. In the beginning of the excerpt she expresses guilt that she had left things unsaid with her dead husband and regretted doing so. Florentino is offering her a chance to love again and perhaps better this time. Here she can do as Frankl suggests and learn from her guilt and resolve to “love more meaningfully”, turning her tragedy into meaning.

Frankl is not the only existentialist that we have come across that emphasizes the importance of experiencing all that we encounter and looking for meaning in those experiences. Camus would criticize Fermina’s wish for death because she would be no longer “living to the maximum”. Sartre would scold her for being in bad faith for trying to transcend her experience. Love in the Time of Cholera presented a scenario for some of the more positive messages that tend to be overlooked in existentialism to emerge. Trying to find meaning in a meaningless existence is a challenge especially when tragedy has occurred. However, these existentialists suggest ways to turn those tragedies into meaningful experiences which produce a much more meaningful way of life. Finding meaning in tragedy is a struggle but as Frankl says, it can motivate us to make our lives more meaningful. The death of Fermina’s husband has caused her to experience great loss and pain, however, this tragedy has the opportunity to inspire her to seek greater meaning in her life.

The Concept of Society in understanding Existentialism

Coming from a sociological background, I cannot resist applying ideas of society throughout this course. Many students have struggled with conceptualizing existentialism, but for me the concept of a society has helped me understand many of the works and authors that we have explored. The development of societies through the creation of norms, values, and institutions has been questioned for years; however, Berger’s Social Construction of Reality argues that norms were developed so that interactions between individuals would be less strenuous. By having norms, people are able to have a certain degree of predictability when gauging each other’s actions and reactions and preventing us from having to make decisions all the times. Existentialism has thus argued that it is these norms that have limited our freedom as they consciously or unconsciously guide our every action, unless one achieves absolute moral responsibility for one’s own actions.

Heidegger’s Being and Time comments on this aspect of society when he discusses the fallen Dasein in the They. The They is described as everyone and no one at one with an inability to assert one’s individuality. Similar to society, one can loose one’s individuality in their everydayness and pre-established norms and values can easily restrict one’s freedoms as they are nearly impossible to redefine, unless you are Gandhi, King, or Mandela. Likewise, the angst that Heidegger refers to stems from questioning one’s being as with the Dasein as one is confronted with possibility and uncertainty, the possibility that is eliminated with societal norms and values that guides how one should exist.

Sartre’s "Bad Faith" also eludes to societal norms and values with his discussion of facticity, that is everything in the life that serves the background of our freedom or limits our freedom, such as language and culture. He suggests that we should transcend this facticity, those laws and restrictions that society consists of, and become an être-pour-soi, a being for itself.

Philip Roth’s The Human Stain clarifies a fundamental connection to the concept of society and existentialism when Faunia states, “Close all the doors, before and after. All the social ways of thinking, shut ‘em down. Everything the wonderful society is asking? The way we’re set up socially? ‘I should, I should, I should’? Fuck all that. What you’re supposed to be, what you’re supposed to do, all that, it just kills everything” (Solomon 375). Faunia asserts the restriction of freedom that society holds on all individuals in an attempt to follow norms and values. Existentialism frequently points to society as the cause of limitation and constraints, as Faunia notes, and it is these restrictions that existentialists strive to transcend.

If we can conceptualize society as the main cause of human limitation and we begin to understand what societal norms and values exist within our own lives, I believe we will not only be able to better understand existentialism, but also ways in which we may be able to find some sense of freedom. For example, many articles I have read discuss American’s obsession with the economic institution over all others in comparison with other states in addition to the highest homicide rates in the world. What norms and values then does America hold, through what mechanisms were they created and how are they replicated from generation to generation. If we want to apply philosophy, I think these types of questions are important to ask if we are to understand what exactly restricts our freedoms.

Fun Times With Existentialism

George Carlin: "Religion is an abdication of responsibility."

God and Existentialism - Admittedly Less Exciting than Michael's Pictures

The first two paragraphs are mostly re-cap from Tuesday, so if you were in class, feel free to skip ahead. The juicy stuff's in para. 3.

On Tuesday, we considered whether or not it is possible to be an existentialist and still believe in God. Before we did, though, we tried to nail down some of the trademarks of existentialism, beginning with the ways in which Samuel Beckett’s play, An Act Without Words, illustrates the absurd. By creating a character who, despite continued reflection, gets no closer to the carafe of water he is reaching for, we come to realize he is engaged in a completely futile activity. Likewise, the existentialist argues that as life unfolds, we often come to realize much of it is a rather pointless activity despite all of our efforts to make it otherwise. Thus, the fact that we keep trying is fairly absurd. Beckett illustrates the pain associated with realizing the absurdity of life quite beautifully at the end of the play when the defeated character puts his face in his hands as the curtain falls.

However, we also discussed how in realizing this absurdity, the existentialist argues we also recognize our freedom and the possibilities that come with it. Though the existentialist suggests there is nothing inherently meaningful about life, the freedom life’s absurdity gives us makes it possible to inject our own tailor-made meaning into it. Camus demonstrates this in his discussion of Sisyphus. Though Sisyphus has been eternally condemned to push a bolder up a hill, Camus argues that in continuing to do it, Sisyphus does what only human beings are capable of - he makes meaning out of meaninglessness. By forcing meaning into the experience, “[Sisyphus’] fate belongs to him. The rock is his thing…The universe henceforth without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile…The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus is happy (198). In other words, although life is absurd and our action seems futile (as Beckett’s character suggests) we are free to create meaning in our lives, which makes it all worthwhile.

Upon discovering these existential nuggets, we were led to the question of whether or not it is possible for the existentialist to believe in God. Kierkegaard, our resident Christian existentialist, argues faith in God is in fact the very thing that brings the absurd to light. For instance, in the case of the binding of Isaac, Abraham had to suspend all of his rational beliefs about the nature of right and wrong in order to obey God. “As the individual, he became higher that the universal: this is the paradox which does not admit of mediation” (17). Thus, by exercising his faith, Abraham engaged in a sort of absurd, but beautifully human activity. Like the other existentialists, Kierkegaard argues that coming face to face with this absurdity creates a sort of anxiety. However, unlike the others, he suggests that only faith can soothe it.  

The problem with this, and the question we raised in class, is that it seems we lose something fundamentally existential when God enters the picture. If there is a God, it means there is something that can make sense of the world, thereby negating the absurd and taking away our freedom to make life meaningful on our own. Insofar as this kind of freedom forms the backbone of existentialism, it seems the true existentialist cannot put it by the wayside. Thus, although the religious existentialist can develop ideas of the absurd and anxiety in relation to God (the way Kierkegaard does), I wonder if it is possible to fully recognize the sort of freedom necessary to be an existentialist while also being a theist. Though my intuitions say no, I would really like to hear everyone’s thoughts, as the issue seems pretty important to establishing what the existentialist is really committed to. 

Not-So Happy* Holidays courtesy of Existentialism! (But what really constitutes happiness anyway?)

As I sit here enjoying my Thanksgiving holiday I find myself in the midst of a mild existentialist crisis. Everyone present has clearly been waiting patiently for an entire year to come so that they can enjoy the holiday and all its trimmings. As much as I love spending time with my family and friends, eating my body weight in turkey and stuffing, and enjoying the gorgeous scenery of Northern Wisconsin, I begin to ruminate on my existentialist readings. Why do we make such a huge deal over holidays? I know the traditional answers to this question include such items as spending time with family, relaxing and being away from work or school, but from an existentialist viewpoint there are many items worth pointing out when it comes to holidays. First of all, if we are simply truly alone in this world, as discussed by some of our more recent readings then why do we hold so much joy in the time spent with our loved ones? Why even bother with them if we are simply meant to be alone? The dark existentialist concept that our lives are simply the path to our impending death also creeps up on me. Why do we spend so much time looking forward to a holiday if really it means it is just another year closer to our death? I know this is really depressing to think about but it is true, at least for the existentialists. The reminder is also made manifest in the little things, like maybe one day those who like to cook in my family will be gone and by some evil twist of fate I will be called upon to prepare the Thanksgiving feast. Anyone who knows me at all well knows that cooking is not my strong suit. Even I probably would not want to eat anything that I would not even want to eat something I personally had made. Yuck. Just another pleasant reminder from the existentialists about our own personal responsibilities (if we even can have them when the world is simply pretty much against us anyway). A reminder of my own attempts at getting what I want only to find that they are futile. Thanks existentialism, for instead of making my holidays a pleasant and happy time filled with warm memories, warmer cocktails, and the beauty of nature, you remind me that none of it matters because we will all just die alone anyway. Happy Holidays!

No Task:

Sartre holds that the essential existential belief is "existence precedes essence," and not the other way around, as is the case with all other things in life (i.e. the paper cutter). Since we all know that there is no God, it follows that we were not created by any thing, much less for any purpose. But if we exist without a purpose--that is, if we have not been given a task--we are condemned to find our own purposes, our own tasks to carry out. 

David Shrigley's only task, apparently, is to fill the page, and I dare say that this philosophy carries over into each of our lives as well. With no grand scheme in mind, with no final plan or ultimate end for our lives, the task we create for ourselves may often feel as insignificant or as inconsequential as simply filling a page. Many of us have found this idea to be more pessimistic or depressing than it actually is, assuming that by "filling up the page" we are saying that we will all sit in tiny little desks in tiny little rows with our tiny little pencils, copy down words from a medical dictionary until we fill up both sides (the front and the back) of the page with our tiny little handwritings, sign the honor code like good boys and girls, and die. 

I am sorry to disenchant you, my friends, but there is so much more to existentialism than this. Existentialism, Sartre wants to tell you, is ultimately the most optimistic and humanistic philosophy available: do not become forlorn by the fact that your task is "merely" to fill a page. Instead, consider the possibilities. Fill it up with love poems, erase them, and fill it back up again. Cover it in stickers. Cover it cupcake sprinkles. Cover it in glitter glue. Trace the contours of your hand. Make that tracing a turkey. Wipe your ass with it. 

Write the opening lines of your novel. Write the heartbreaking conclusion. Draw every shape you know, then every shape you don't know. Fill the page with black marker; paint back over it in white. Flick some pink in there to be trendy. Make a Warhol. Make a Pollock. Make Friedrich Nietzsche's mustache. Copy "I will not be in bad faith" until your hand begins to cramp. Finish the rest of it with your left hand. Break out the old Spirograph. Blow your runny nose and fold the page over. 

Hell, go ahead prick your thumb and leave the bloody print there in the corner. No one will mind. In the end you will not have been asked to draw anything in particular. You will not have been graded for accuracy (there are no still-life mannequins), or even creativity. There are no grades, and if there is, they are completion grades, so do whatever you want. 

You cannot fail. 

You cannot fail.

You simply. cannot. fail.

So have at it. 

Venn Diagram:

Do you really feel this alone? Why or why not? 

As Fast As You Want:

Do you feel limitless yet?

If I would still like to only go 55 mph, what does this say about me? 

Does Existentialism really eliminate a speed limit?

Ought we to drive a certain speed anyway?

Do you feel safe with no speed limit?

Really? You look kind of afraid. 

How many accidents actually occur on the Autobahn anyway?

How fast would you drive if there were no limit?

The Beast is Near:

Buber and the Ethics of Care

In our recent discussions in class, the question has been raised: is there an ethic that stems forth from an Existential Philosophy? And as I have considered this, I have thought more and more about the ideas presented between Nel Noddings' Ethics of Care and Martin Buber's I and Thou. I would like to present their philosophies in a manner of co-dialogue per se, and hear your response; does a form of the ethics of care arise out of Buber's philosophy? I would like to say that it does, though it seems odd that an ethic of care would surface with regards to Existentialism.

The Ethics of Care is an ethic based on myriad factors, but I am only going to explicate the ones I find most relevant to our discussion. The first aspect I would like to discuss is the notion of the relationship. A caring relationship centers on dialogue between the one-caring and the cared-for. Within both the one-caring and the cared-for, (and within everyone you may randomly pass on the street) there are what Noddings' calls, "An Ethical Ideal." The Ethical Ideal, is essentially, exactly what it sounds like: it is the best picture of oneself, and with each interaction a person has, either as one-caring or as a cared-for, their ethical ideal can either grow or diminish. Now, there are two different types of caring for someone: natural care and ethical care. Natural care arises innately from within you--this is the sort of care perhaps a mother has for her child; it is seemingly easy to care for this person because natural affection flows towards this person. The second kind of care is one called ethical caring; this is the kind of caring we are called to do even when it is hard--we ethically care when we are not already in a relationship with someone, and do something for them anyway. Perhaps an example of this would be, imagine you are at the grocery store and a woman drops her gallon of milk next to you--you have a choice: either you keep going, and perhaps neither yours nor her ethical ideal moved in any direction, but perhaps you stopped, picked up the milk, handed it to her, and then kept going: perhaps then, both of your ethical ideals were increased. You had no obligation per se to her because you were not engaging in any sort of previous caring relation with her, but you decided to ethically care for her nonetheless. This feeling of the "I must" that appears within you, is called "obligation"; however, obligation is a choice, and you are free to reject obligation. There are two last things that I would like to discuss before I move on to a discussion on Buber, and those things are Engrossment/Motivational Displacement and the notion of dialogue. Engrossment and Motivational Displacement go hand in hand, in the sense that they occur subsequent of one another. When one-caring engages in dialogue with a cared-for, the one-caring "engrosses" in the cared-for. To engross means to fully engage; to step outside of who you are for the time being, outside of your time constraints, your hunger, your annoyances of the day, and fully and actively engage in what the other person is saying and feeling: by doing this, you "motivationally displace" yourself in order to care for the other. The last thing I want to emphasize is dialogue. Noddings says that dialogue is absolutely essential to the nurturing and the maintenance of the ethical ideal; one must practice both speaking and listening; acting as both one-caring and a cared-for in order for natural care to occur more frequently. With practice, although we are not obligated to do this, we eventually care more naturally, more frequently. It requires less effort to simply desire to nurture others' ethical ideals, and when we are nurturing, very often, and this is also important, people begin to reciprocate that care, and it becomes a cyclical process of relationships.
Finally, I get to Buber. Again, I am only going to address a few specific things here, as this is already quite long, (basically to the bottom of p. 321 in the book.) I specifically want to begin with the ways in which his focus on the I-It relationship and the I-Thou relationship seem to be analogous to those of a caring relationship. He says that the word of humans is two-fold, that in our nature we have the potential to treat or name something an "it" or a "thou", but only by naming something does the "I" come into the picture--thus, creating a sense of dialogue between two things--either the it or the thou. However, Buber says that

"The world of experience belongs to the founding word I-It, whereas the founding word I-Thou grounds the world of relating".

By this, I take Buber to mean that when humans engage with something they enter into this two-fold (I-it or I-thou) relationship; however, the I-it is called forth when a human engages with something that either does not reciprocate that engagement or something that you simply experience. In opposition, the I-thou, is said to truly call forth the I in the relationship. Buber says that in the process of becoming the I, I utter Thou. I take this to mean that in a relationship, where both the I and the thou are being treated as a "thou", thus engaging one another, they encounter one another, and they stand in the process of relating.
The last thing I want to do briefly is show how some of these philosophies are analogous. Both Noddings' and Buber have a distinct philosophy that is based on relation with the "other", and the ways in which we respond to that other. For Noddings' it is treating them as a cared-for, and working to displace yourself and nurture their ethical ideal. For Buber, it is the recognition of the "person" as separate from the recognition of the person as a thing or an experience. Consider the aforementioned possibility of the woman in the grocery store. How might Buber respond to her? Would he say that she was an I-it or an I-thou? The I-It versus the I-Thou seems similar to the caring relationship with regards to the one-caring and the cared-for and the ways in which we choose to treat and engage the people with which we come into contact; in the sense that just as we are both ones-caring and ones-cared for, we have also both been the "its" and the "thous", perhaps we have been treated as an it by a random passer-by, while our mother or best friend treats us as a thou. And although Noddings is not religious in nature while Buber is, it could also be construed that just as Buber says that in experiencing each "I-thou" relationship, where we stand in the process of relation, we come closer to the ultimate "I-thou" it could possibly be said that, every relationship that is reciprocal, we come closer to the ultimate one-caring, whether that be a God, the ultimate friendship, or a soul mate or sorts, just so long as it recognizes the essence of the relationship as dialogical and relational.

Secondly in the analogy, Buber says: "Founding words do not assert anything that would exist beyond them, but spoken, they ground an inventory of states of affairs. Founding words are uttered by the essence." I wonder how this line might appeal to Nodding's idea of the ethical ideal being the best picture of yourself--she calls it a "reservoir of care" that is completed through all of your past experiences of caring or non-caring relationships. So, these founding words--thus, a person entering into relationship with someone else, naming them an I-thou--call upon an inventory of the state of affairs. What does that mean per se? Well, perhaps it means, it calls upon this reservoir of all of your past engagements of relationship, and considers all of those relationships in preparation for your about-to-be relation with this new I-thou.

Here are just some thoughts about Buber and Noddings, clearly there is a lot more that could be said, but this is already quite long. Please add your own thoughts. But, to answer the original question, I do think that some sort of ethic can arise from an Existentialist philosophy, because humans interact with one another--period. And somewhere, there is a driving force behind that relatedness and dialogue. I didn't talk about this much, but I also wonder how the idea of "vulnerability" which is quite relevant in Noddings' would play into an Existentialist ethic.

Assorted thoughts about Buber

In class on Thursday we talked about Buber and what he calls the “dialogical existence.” He says that relationships are always in one of two realms: either I-thou or I-it. While I read Buber and while we talked about him in class, I kept thinking about a conversation I’d just had with one of my best friends. This friend is in Professor Shade’s Ethics class, and he was telling me about this book that he was reading for class. He talked about how the woman who wrote the book believes that men and women care in different ways. She says that men care in a more general sense, where they care about everyone equally, and they treat everyone they know in the same way. However, women are more discerning in the way they care about people, and they really love the people that they care about. Women are more protective of and loyal to the people that they care about, whereas men see everyone as equal to each other. The way my friend described it to me, it seems like (to use Kierkegaard terms) men live in a universal realm, where everything belongs to everyone, and women live in a more personal realm in which they treat people differently due to how they feel about them and the situations that exist.

This reminded me a little of Buber’s I-thou, I-it relationships. He distinguishes between these relationships by saying that I-it is essentially detached, while I-thou involves the whole person. I don’t want to assume connections that aren’t there, but I did see parallels between Buber’s ethics and the care ethics discussed above. Because if the idea is that men treat everyone the same, isn’t that essentially treating people as objects, taking away their individuality to be their own person? And if women have fewer relationships but they are stronger and with people that they really care about, isn’t that an I-thou relationship in the sense that it’s a deeper relationship, involving the whole person? When my friend and I were talking about this, I kept thinking that men caring about everyone is really like men caring about no one. Because it’s like stretching man too thin, to the point where their relationships don’t mean anything. But women have fewer, but stronger relationships that actually may end up being more meaningful.

I like the idea that Buber creates an ethics that differs from Sartre’s in the sense that it is a religious ethics. While Sartre flat out denies that God exists, Buber’s ethics definitely has a religious feel to it, even though he never mentions God. Sartre believes in man taking full responsibility. And I think Buber believes in that too, but it seems like his view is a little more forgiving maybe. An overlying sense of faith, maybe not necessarily God, but certainly spirituality. Buber uses words like “grace” and “essence” and it seems clear that his whole I-Thou concept has some religious implications to it. Perhaps the Ultimate Thou is what we are all meant to strive for, what we should all have the goal of reaching and experiencing.

"Human-All-Too-Human: Sartre and the Road to Freedom"

A BBC documentary about the life and work of Jean-Paul Sartre.

"The Century of The Self"

The following are from a BBC documentary called "The Century of the Self", which looks at the ways that those in power have used Freud's theories to try and control the dangerous crowd in an age of mass democracy.

Student-Faculty Forum

In the last class we were briefly introduced to Michel Foucault, a political philosopher, in his relation of freedom in a situation. I thought it might be interesting to view a political stance on the existential “situations” that Sartre poses.
First Sartre and Foucault ask different questions regarding one’s freedom. For Sartre, his ultimatum is exposed when he asks, “are we really un-free?” Sartre would respond that we are never without freedom, and your life is not determined. We are free in the sense that we have options, not that we have superhuman capabilities. Sartre’s humanistic approach to freedom contrasts with that of Michel Foucault, who seeks to prove that we are not free, and we are not really even a “subject” that can be considered free.
Foucault says that subjects are produced by means of the flow of power relations. This is particularly radical because he asserts that power is not an object that can be possessed, like physical strength. Rather, the connections through which power flows creates what we know as “subjects,” which are likely to use the power that shaped them in order to form more subjects. This is where I am still struggling with Foucault, because the individual cannot be considered without the notion of power. I feel this is at odds with nearly every philosopher we have studied in existentialism, because he seeks to deny the individual’s existence by saying we are essentialized by the power that produces us. It seems as if Foucault wants to focus on the external factors of human existence to define an individual’s situation, not the freedom of options like Sartre suggests.
Certainly, I can understand Foucault point in the example of the MTV show the Hills (which I haven’t personally seen, but this example oddly pops up in every Dr. Johnson class so far). The show has such an influence, or power, or the masses that it seeks to reproduce the same power relation within the individuals that watch. The show pushes a certain type of lifestyle, which apparently a lot of people accept or deem worthy. This is where the power has been reproduced: in the individual who try to imitate the aspects of the show.
It is difficult to compare Foucault to Sartre, because Michel simply denies any type of individual. There are no beings and objects; there are only things that are produces by power. The only response I can imagine is that Sartre would conclude that all of the networks of power and its reproduction are part of the facticity of a being’s life. Foucault does not want to grant the notion of the individual completely free of some influence, thereby essentializing the very existence of the “subject,” because it must be the result of the reproduction of power. So where is my ability to transcend? Is transcendence even a legitimate option in the network of power? Even if I am capable transcend, is it only because someone else reproduced a notion to transcend? It is hard for me to see where new ideas form in a network of power, if there are no subjects, then where would ideas not reproduced by power come from? I find all of Foucault’s notions very difficult to answer because of the ingrained notion of the individual separate of his surroundings and able to assert his own values which he show vehemently denies.