A BBC documentary about the life and work of Jean-Paul Sartre.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
"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.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
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.
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.
"Good deeds" during the Holocaust, according to Unamuno
Earlier this evening, I was watching the documentary “Weapons of the Spirit” by Pierre Sauvage, which explores the manner in which the small Protestant town of Le Chambon sur Lignon, France saved thousands of Jews during World War II. During Germany’s occupation of France, this small French village, with only about 5000 people living there at that time, saved approximately 5000 Jews by housing, feeding, and/or (sometimes) educating them, along with forging necessarily legal documents in order to seek safety elsewhere. Pastor Andre Trocme of the Le Chambon sur Lignon church strongly encouraged that the villagers help in any way they could in protecting the fleeing Jews for the time that they spent in the village, despite constant threats of expulsion, incarceration, or extermination by the Nazi regime. Nevertheless, the documentary emphasized the fact that the efforts of these villagers were not part of a known and communicated village-wide effort; but rather that the overwhelming majority of the villagers thought it their duty to protect these Jews, although it was never explicitly named a village-wide effort.
This documentary prompted me to ruminate on the writings of Unamuno and what they meant in judging the action of Le Chambon sur Lignon. I find that many of the philosophical theories of philosophers that I have studied – although brilliant, thought provoking, and influential in their time – are not very practical when applied to one’s everyday living. The theories of philosophers such as Immanuel Kant or John Stuart Mills (I find) are rather cumbersome, inefficient, and ineffective when systematically applied to one’s every action.
It is from this angle from which I came in judging the practicality of Unamuno’s existential theory as applied to the action of that small French town during the tumultuous Second World War. Does it truly matter WHY the villagers safeguarded the Jews, so long as they were protected from imminent death and given the chance to exist elsewhere in the world after Le Chambon sur Lignon? If life (by which I mean mere physical existence as well as the quality of life) is being protected and cherished by a few strong individuals in a time of rampant demonic extermination of lives, does it really matter what influences have provoked these actions, just as long as people are saved in the process? In my interpretation of Unamuno, according to his “The Tragic Sense of Life,” the answer to this question is “yes”. That which is “good,” although seemingly (and perhaps incorrectly) blatant in the example of Le Chambon sur Lignon, is not an absolute notion determined by dogma, but rather decided and created by the individual.
Unamuno states that moral proof is acting in such a way “that is your own judgment and in the judgment of others you may deserve eternity…be irreplaceable…[and] not deserve death” (159). However, many of the villagers, when interviewed for this documentary, said that they acted in that way not to be immortalized, romanticized, or become heroes, but rather because it simply felt like the natural and right thing to do. How would Unamuno respond to this? Would the philosopher say that because they were not acting in such a way that was influenced by the desire to be “irreplaceable” or deserving of eternal life, their actions would thus not be accredited to them as “good” deeds? However, no matter their intentions at the time, their actions, upon reflection, were irreplaceable, heroic, and selfless. Thus, one could argue that their deeds were deserving of eternal life, although they did not express that the sole reason for their deeds was a passionate desire to obtain eternal life and happiness. Nevertheless, couldn't one argue, as Unamuno does briefly in the essay, that the villagers of Le Chambon sur Lignon lived “in the midst of a society imbued with Christian principles, surrounded by institutions and social reactions produced by Christianity, so that a belief in the immortality of the soul runs deep in their own souls…neither seen nor heard, but watering the roots of their deeds and their motives” (160)? But how can an individual or, for that matter Miguel de Unamuno, distinguish the true motives of deeds, if some can be extremely inconspicuous, “run[ning] deep in their own souls like a subterranean river” (160)?
This documentary prompted me to ruminate on the writings of Unamuno and what they meant in judging the action of Le Chambon sur Lignon. I find that many of the philosophical theories of philosophers that I have studied – although brilliant, thought provoking, and influential in their time – are not very practical when applied to one’s everyday living. The theories of philosophers such as Immanuel Kant or John Stuart Mills (I find) are rather cumbersome, inefficient, and ineffective when systematically applied to one’s every action.
It is from this angle from which I came in judging the practicality of Unamuno’s existential theory as applied to the action of that small French town during the tumultuous Second World War. Does it truly matter WHY the villagers safeguarded the Jews, so long as they were protected from imminent death and given the chance to exist elsewhere in the world after Le Chambon sur Lignon? If life (by which I mean mere physical existence as well as the quality of life) is being protected and cherished by a few strong individuals in a time of rampant demonic extermination of lives, does it really matter what influences have provoked these actions, just as long as people are saved in the process? In my interpretation of Unamuno, according to his “The Tragic Sense of Life,” the answer to this question is “yes”. That which is “good,” although seemingly (and perhaps incorrectly) blatant in the example of Le Chambon sur Lignon, is not an absolute notion determined by dogma, but rather decided and created by the individual.
Unamuno states that moral proof is acting in such a way “that is your own judgment and in the judgment of others you may deserve eternity…be irreplaceable…[and] not deserve death” (159). However, many of the villagers, when interviewed for this documentary, said that they acted in that way not to be immortalized, romanticized, or become heroes, but rather because it simply felt like the natural and right thing to do. How would Unamuno respond to this? Would the philosopher say that because they were not acting in such a way that was influenced by the desire to be “irreplaceable” or deserving of eternal life, their actions would thus not be accredited to them as “good” deeds? However, no matter their intentions at the time, their actions, upon reflection, were irreplaceable, heroic, and selfless. Thus, one could argue that their deeds were deserving of eternal life, although they did not express that the sole reason for their deeds was a passionate desire to obtain eternal life and happiness. Nevertheless, couldn't one argue, as Unamuno does briefly in the essay, that the villagers of Le Chambon sur Lignon lived “in the midst of a society imbued with Christian principles, surrounded by institutions and social reactions produced by Christianity, so that a belief in the immortality of the soul runs deep in their own souls…neither seen nor heard, but watering the roots of their deeds and their motives” (160)? But how can an individual or, for that matter Miguel de Unamuno, distinguish the true motives of deeds, if some can be extremely inconspicuous, “run[ning] deep in their own souls like a subterranean river” (160)?
Freedom in All the King's Men
SPOILER WARNING: If you are reading, or ever intend to read All the Kings Men, this essay will ruin the ending for you. Sorry, but it's necessary to my point to do so.
In Robert Penn Warren's All the King's Men, the main character, Jack Burden, deals with all kinds of existential crises as he "exists towards his death". Knowledge is everything to jack -- it dictates his world. He works for Governor Willie Stark collecting, twisting, and reconstituting his knowledge in Stark's favor. Jack importantly believes that life is one path, virtually uncontrollable, and that each new piece of knowledge we gain moves us closer to omniscience and death. Life, to Jack, is a fuse burning along until it hits a powder keg, which is death, and which is a state of absolute knowledge (he calls it God).
Obviously, Jack fails to realize that he has choices in his life. This is never more apparent than when it is revealed to Jack that the love of his Youth, Anne Stanton (whom he is not entirely over, and whom he should have married but instead has never touched) is having an affair with his boss, Stark. Jack's world falls apart; he believes that he has no choice at all in the matter. Sartre would say that he has come to exist in a state of bad faith. He is denying, outright, his transcendence.
Jack reacts to the situation by falling out of it. He drives alone, non-stop, to California and lays in a hotel bed for a few days straight, making no choices, and not acknowledging his power over his own situation. Sartre tells us that, while Jack is not necessarily free to remake his entire situation, he is still has the free choice to decide how he feels about the situation and what he will do with his life and what he will eat for breakfast, but he does none of these things -- he just lies there in California.
By the time Jack leaves his hotel room to return to Louisiana, his thoughts have arrived at a choice-denying, nihilistic outlook on life that he calls "The Great Twitch". He describes the great twitch like this: "Names [mean] nothing and all the words we speak [mean] nothing, and there is only the pulse of the blood and the twitch of the nerve, like a dead frog's leg in the experiment when the electric current goes through" (p466, 1996 edition). Life, to Jack, has become something without choice. He compares it to a particular Hitch hiker's twitch -- involuntary but ever animated.
Jack ends up reneging somewhat on his "great twitch" when he sees that action and choice are possible in the face of seemingly crushing obstacles. Adam Stanton (Anne's brother, who detests corruption -- especially Willie Stark's brand) finds out that his sister is sleeping with Stark, and he breaks down in a similar manner to Jack (and Willie's wife before them), but Adam refuses to be complacent and to deny his choice and to follow "The They". He accepts that he has choices in the situation, and he realizes his own most possibility by going down to the Capitol and filling Stark full of lead (Adam was shot on the spot.) Adam refused to let obstacles paralyze him but held on to his power of choice until the very end.
This is a great book and I have only scratched the surface of its metaphysics and rich plot line. I apologize for the spoilers, but they are the foundation of the book's existential crises and had to be included.
My History - Genealogy, if you will - of Faith
It’s glorious to be blogging for the first time--I finally found an author in this class with whom I can connect on a certain level. There's something about Unamuno that really resonates with me. See, I was raised in a religious household, attending church multiple times a week, and I was convinced that the Bible (all of it) was truth. Then high school happened, and my sprinkling of non-Christian friends forced me to face my own uncertainties. I couldn’t reason out the intricacies of Christianity to them because I began to see that certain portions of the Bible were not completely consistent throughout. I became Unamuno’s allegorical guy whose “ground [s]he thought firm begins to rock,” trembling because my worldview had been utterly shattered (158). My remaining adolescence consisted of my denial of the fervent faith that used to possess me.
Was it faith, though? I recall in Search class last year, we discussed the meaning of faith. Doesn’t having faith require a certain transcendence of logical bounds? Can the belief in something that has been rationally established be termed faith? Isn’t faith’s full name on the dotted line something akin to “Faith, Leap of”? This weaves in Kierkegaard’s whole shebang on the teleological suspension of the ethical, for Abraham wouldn’t deserve the “Father of Faith” epithet if he didn’t have to shuck his attachments to the ethical (plural, public) realm. Abraham’s entire logical jump was based on the belief that he would kill Isaac and Isaac would also live to produce the nation of peoples Yahweh had promised Abraham. That’s some heavy stuff. I only had to contend with a few discrepancies in my holy text. All the same, mine was not a real faith until it was tested.
My favorite part of The Tragic Sense of Life, though, is the discussion of infinitude. I found the idea that truth lay in the subjective realm very palatable, and it felt like Unamuno’s assertion that “whoever desires immortality with a passion and even against all reason deserves it most of all” was directed at the 16 year old Christine. Granted, this principle of unguarded passion would have been lost on me then, but I did have a grasp of the concept of transcending the objective and scientific. My focus back then was not on the infinitude of my existence, but on God’s (alleged) everlasting love. Essentially, I was operating under the conviction that faith (regardless of how paradoxical or irrational) in some Being who loved me without end was preferable to the actual love of finite, fickle human beings. This unfounded thirst for the infinite was my subjective way of reaching for the real truth.
One last gush of Unamuno lovin’: “A human God—and we can conceive of no other—would never reject whoever could not believe in him with his head; it is not in his head but in his heart that the wicked man says that there is no God, that is: he does not want God to exist”(160). Unamuno effectively soothes the whirling mind of the skeptical Christian. In claiming that God, a human God (after all, we were made in his image, right?), empathizes with our human disconnect between reason and faith, Unamuno justifies and absolves many Christians of the discomfort they face in juggling their two warring spheres.
Unamuno ends with a command to be happy. Isn’t it strange how the Christian philosophers are the most hopeful (see Lacey’s post)?
Thursday, October 23, 2008
What would Sartre think about Office Space?
One of my favorite things that we’ve read in Existentialism this semester has been Sartre’s “Patterns of Bad Faith.” However, I don’t agree with all of what Sartre says. Sartre defines bad faith as a lie to oneself. He uses the examples of the woman on the date and the café waiter to show that they are both in bad faith; the woman because she is trying to escape her facticity and the waiter because he is trying to reduce himself to strictly his facticity. As I understand it, Sartre says that every human has both facticity and transcendence, and that bad faith is choosing one of them over the other by lying to yourself while in the mode of being it. I agree with Sartre when he claims that the waiter is in bad faith because he is trying to be a waiter in the same way that a chair is a chair. But is Sartre oversimplifying? One thing that Sartre seems to ignore is that there are situations that can have influence over people’s actions. What if this waiter is living paycheck to paycheck and he’s being the best waiter he can be just to pay his bills? Is he really reducing himself to his facticity if it is what is necessary to keep his job, and therefore his survival? Couldn't you say that the waiter is using his freedom to choose to be a waiter rather than to starve or be homeless? And that he is choosing to be a good waiter so as to not be fired from his job?
One of my main problems with Sartre is his claim that even sincerity is in bad faith. He says that objects are the only things that can be sincere because only objects are what they are all of the time. As human beings, we are what we are not, and we are not what we are. At the same time. And Sartre says that all humans are caught in this unstableness, this relationship with ourselves over our own facticity and transcendence. And that is what frustrates me the most. If people will never be in good faith, and can never be sincere, what is the point? What would Sartre argue to be the goal? What should people strive to get towards, if not good faith?
When we talked about this in class, I kept thinking about the movie “Office Space”. In this scene, (link to the clip is below) Jennifer Aniston’s character, who is a waitress, is approached by her boss who says that she isn’t cheerful enough and that she isn’t wearing enough flair. In the end she ends up flicking off her boss and expressing herself in that way, instead of conforming to this image of the perfect waitress, which would be reducing herself to her facticity.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-bXHPqj3NcI
As in his example with the waiter, if Jennifer Aniston’s character wore the 37 pieces of flair, and greeted every customer with a smile and was the overly perfect waitress, she would be in bad faith. Because she would be trying to reduce herself to her facticity and ignoring her transcendence. But since she spoke out against her boss, and flicked him off, isn’t she asserting that she is more than just her facticity? Would Sartre agree? Jennifer Aniston realized herself to be more than just a waitress, and she acknowledged her own freedom to quit her job, and to not be the best possible waitress. Is this what Sartre would have wanted?
One of my main problems with Sartre is his claim that even sincerity is in bad faith. He says that objects are the only things that can be sincere because only objects are what they are all of the time. As human beings, we are what we are not, and we are not what we are. At the same time. And Sartre says that all humans are caught in this unstableness, this relationship with ourselves over our own facticity and transcendence. And that is what frustrates me the most. If people will never be in good faith, and can never be sincere, what is the point? What would Sartre argue to be the goal? What should people strive to get towards, if not good faith?
When we talked about this in class, I kept thinking about the movie “Office Space”. In this scene, (link to the clip is below) Jennifer Aniston’s character, who is a waitress, is approached by her boss who says that she isn’t cheerful enough and that she isn’t wearing enough flair. In the end she ends up flicking off her boss and expressing herself in that way, instead of conforming to this image of the perfect waitress, which would be reducing herself to her facticity.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-bXHPqj3NcI
As in his example with the waiter, if Jennifer Aniston’s character wore the 37 pieces of flair, and greeted every customer with a smile and was the overly perfect waitress, she would be in bad faith. Because she would be trying to reduce herself to her facticity and ignoring her transcendence. But since she spoke out against her boss, and flicked him off, isn’t she asserting that she is more than just her facticity? Would Sartre agree? Jennifer Aniston realized herself to be more than just a waitress, and she acknowledged her own freedom to quit her job, and to not be the best possible waitress. Is this what Sartre would have wanted?
Passion vs. Reason: A Synopsis of Authentic Faith
We ended class today in a state of indeterminacy. The title that is Unamuno’s “The Tragic Sense of Life” left us a bit of a quandary concerning his meaning of “tragic sense”. But I argue that Unamuno’s “tragic sense of life” is neither self-conceived and nor solely confined to his own definition, but rather poses a recurring question about the intrinsic nature of man. It’s a question that dates back to the early philosophy of Aristotle and Plato, depicted in Raphael’s painting, “School of Athens”; a question that attempts to answer the apparent incompatibility between the Apollonian and Dionysian side of man, the struggle between reason and passion, and inward conflict of the “man who says one thing with his heart and the opposite with his head” (157). This antithetical relation of passion and reason, for Unamuno, is embodied in the notion faith. A faith, however, not limited to finite things, but regarding infinite things.
Today in class we touched briefly on the subject of immortality. Perhaps it is just I, but I’ve found it tough having not tackled the subject of immortality thus far in class. The notion of immortality seems inseparable from philosophy, which is why I find Unamuno’s notion of faith so captivating. Unamuno, in my opinion, addresses the question that prior existentialists (e.g. Kierkegaard and Heidegger) only insinuate: is there such thing as an immortal soul/existence? According to Unamuno, the one who “desires immortality with a passion and even against reason deserves it most of all”. This to me is where Unamuno finds his basis for correct faith.
Now, I mention Heidegger not to rehash any complex philosophy, but instead draw a comparison to Unamuno's notion of faith in relation to Heidegger’s authentic “Dasein”. I find Heidegger’s non-value-judging self to be exactly correct when he talks about an authentic “Dasein”. Since we know death to be “Dasein’s” own, we know that the Angst of “Dasein” is always being-towards-death, and through that anticipation towards death, Dasein is revealed “to its lostness in the they-self, and brings it to the possibility to be itself” (146). This is what Heidegger calls authentic. Therefore, if one is in a constant being-towards-death, then one’s existence is authentic. The so-called “leveling down” Heidegger casually refers to is directed towards inauthentic existence, resulting in "Dasein" losing its individuality in “the they”. Likewise, we also discussed how Kierkegaard would agree, claiming that members of the church are leveling down their own faith by clinging on to a faith (Abraham’s) which is not their own. In clinging to someone else’s faith, faith is not longer an absolute relation to the absolute, because it loses its singularity to the individual. Thus, one is still in the ethical if one’s faith is identical to that of another’s faith.
I think Unamuno would agree. Unamuno asserts that,
“doctrines are usually a means…to explain and justify to others and to ourselves our own mode of action. The mans who does not really know why he acts as he does, and not otherwise, feels the need to explain to himself his reason for so acting, and so he manufactures a motive” (157).
This is applicable to faith. Faith is something that is created by oneself out of one’s own “supreme desire” or “passion for immortality”. If one’s faith is based in a “supreme desire” then his “conduct” must be in accordance with his “supreme desire”. Supreme desire, which I interpret as the eternity achieved through immortality, is why faith, based upon religious faith/dogma is in bad conduct, and is thus bad faith. The ownership of one’s own faith through his own supreme desire for “immortality” justifies what I think Unamuno would call an “authentic faith”. This is why I think that one CAN have faith while authentically existing. If one’s being-toward-death comes from the anticipation found in his faith, then one must, according Heidegger, be in authentic existence.
Note: This may seem confusing and altogether subjective, but Im not trying to come across as a pretentious, just trying to make sense of my thoughts. Thanks, and your comments would be much appreciated.
-kyle w.
Today in class we touched briefly on the subject of immortality. Perhaps it is just I, but I’ve found it tough having not tackled the subject of immortality thus far in class. The notion of immortality seems inseparable from philosophy, which is why I find Unamuno’s notion of faith so captivating. Unamuno, in my opinion, addresses the question that prior existentialists (e.g. Kierkegaard and Heidegger) only insinuate: is there such thing as an immortal soul/existence? According to Unamuno, the one who “desires immortality with a passion and even against reason deserves it most of all”. This to me is where Unamuno finds his basis for correct faith.
Now, I mention Heidegger not to rehash any complex philosophy, but instead draw a comparison to Unamuno's notion of faith in relation to Heidegger’s authentic “Dasein”. I find Heidegger’s non-value-judging self to be exactly correct when he talks about an authentic “Dasein”. Since we know death to be “Dasein’s” own, we know that the Angst of “Dasein” is always being-towards-death, and through that anticipation towards death, Dasein is revealed “to its lostness in the they-self, and brings it to the possibility to be itself” (146). This is what Heidegger calls authentic. Therefore, if one is in a constant being-towards-death, then one’s existence is authentic. The so-called “leveling down” Heidegger casually refers to is directed towards inauthentic existence, resulting in "Dasein" losing its individuality in “the they”. Likewise, we also discussed how Kierkegaard would agree, claiming that members of the church are leveling down their own faith by clinging on to a faith (Abraham’s) which is not their own. In clinging to someone else’s faith, faith is not longer an absolute relation to the absolute, because it loses its singularity to the individual. Thus, one is still in the ethical if one’s faith is identical to that of another’s faith.
I think Unamuno would agree. Unamuno asserts that,
“doctrines are usually a means…to explain and justify to others and to ourselves our own mode of action. The mans who does not really know why he acts as he does, and not otherwise, feels the need to explain to himself his reason for so acting, and so he manufactures a motive” (157).
This is applicable to faith. Faith is something that is created by oneself out of one’s own “supreme desire” or “passion for immortality”. If one’s faith is based in a “supreme desire” then his “conduct” must be in accordance with his “supreme desire”. Supreme desire, which I interpret as the eternity achieved through immortality, is why faith, based upon religious faith/dogma is in bad conduct, and is thus bad faith. The ownership of one’s own faith through his own supreme desire for “immortality” justifies what I think Unamuno would call an “authentic faith”. This is why I think that one CAN have faith while authentically existing. If one’s being-toward-death comes from the anticipation found in his faith, then one must, according Heidegger, be in authentic existence.
Note: This may seem confusing and altogether subjective, but Im not trying to come across as a pretentious, just trying to make sense of my thoughts. Thanks, and your comments would be much appreciated.
-kyle w.
Sincerity... is it really so bad?
Though our discussion of Jean-Paul Sartre is over and done, I cannot help but continue to reflect on his views on sincerity. Sartre apparently found sincerity to be in bad faith, i.e. someone "is" something in the mode of being it. Therefore, being sincere is in bad faith. Maybe I'm just confused about what Sartre was trying to say, but I had always thought that being sincere was a good thing, something valued in society.
Perhaps one of the reasons I am so confused about this "sincerity" issue is because of my Senior Sem. paper. As a French major, I was required to pick any French novel I desired, read it, and develop some kind of thesis and write a paper. I picked L'Etranger by Albert Camus. The Stranger is a hugely popular novel, and many classes in both high school and college are required to read it. To those of you who have not read it, do it. This novel is deceptively simple and wholly mindblowing. So, to give a short summary, Meursault, the main character, lives a life characterized by physical pleasure: smoking, being outside, making love to a woman. Feeling, emotions - those things are not for Meursault. When his mother dies at the beginning of the novel, he does not remember what day he received the telegram and almost regrets having to take days off from work. As the novel develops, Meursault inexplicably shoots an Arab to death, is put on trial, and is persecuted more for his lack of emotions and lack of excuses than for the crime. He is accused of being a man without a soul, and he is sentenced to death. At the end of the novel, he realizes that the world is indifferent, and he accepts his death.
While this summary does not give the novel justice, Camus is trying to capture the adsurdity of the world with the character of Meursault. Mersault, unlike who knows how many people during a trial, takes the responsibility for his actions and does not lie but who is persecuted because he does not lie. My thesis develops from here, that Meursault is a man that remains sincere to himself up until his death, that he is a man unique in society because he refuses to give up this sincerity. He owns up to who he is, and even in the face of execution, he welcomes his death rather than being forced to continue to live in this hypocritical society.
So I guess this is where my problem lies: Jean-Paul Sartre actually liked The Stranger and wrote a long essay analyzing the novel. He does not critique Meursault or his actions at the end of the novel, nor does he ever say that Meursault is in bad faith. Yet, according to Sartre's existential beliefs, Meursault would have to be in bad faith because he is sincere. To me, Meursault is a powerful example of sincerity. He does not accept the rules of society and he remains sincere to himself throughout his trial, admitting only the truth and not changing for anyone. How would Sartre claim that this is in bad faith? How is this example of sincerity something negative? Like I said before, maybe I just really do not understand this component of Sartre's bad faith. In any case, I am going to continue to believe that being sincere, especially to oneself, is a good thing.
Human Development and Anxiety
The world. Such a large concept, though, in essence it is quite minute. There is a constant turnover in the world. Everything is repeated. It may happen many generations later, but it is inevitable. There is always going to be an empire, that empire is always gong to fall. This is my documentation of events in the life of a poor Memphis soul. A lost soul, in search of something more. For every person, there is a repetitive motion that their life must go through. No matter their social class or life experience, everyone goes through it. There are, in this series of events, several stages that one always goes through. This essay documents those stages and the emotions with which each person experiences.
The beginning of this cycle is birth and early childhood. As soon as we come out of the womb, there are certain expectations that our parents must adhere to, no matter what. They believe that you, their child, will be something. They believe you will make something out of your life, and not be like them, having grown up to just become lost in the world. Parents strive for our first word, and our first steps, bragging to all of their friends about how smart you are, and how quickly you are developing. The flaw in this way of thinking is that not all children develop in the same way. Just as you will see later in life, as children develop into adults. We make our parents proud in these first few years.
Then we develop into children. At this point in your life, you will become slightly more aware of the world. This is how we begin to acquire our flaws and prejudices. Any prejudices that our parents put forth, will be mirrored through us. It may take years to break through these prejudices to become these perfect creatures that our parents want us to be. However, despite how many prejudices we manage to break down, we will never be truly perfect or comfortable with everything in the world. The closest to perfection we ever come, is when we are expelled from the womb, before outside influences begin to shape our outcome. This stage of development is often characterized by a disregard to laws and rules. This disregard may disappear for a few years, only to reappear in teenage years. This is when our parents begin to realize that we are NOT perfect beings.
The next stage encompasses the age of 10-12 years old. This stage is characterized by a distinct shift from childhood to what is commonly referred to as preteen. Children begin to understand greater concepts and begin to react to the world in more of a melodramatic way. They try to employ tactics of guilt to get what they want. In this, they act is if they do not know any better, when in reality, they know exactly what they are doing. This is when they begin to develop into the angst-ridden and anxiety-filled teens. The begin to try to center the world around themselves. Some children grow up, but never grow out of this stage. Some people are stuck in this stage until the world gives them a proverbial slap in the face. They become so engulfed in themselves, that they expect the world to always give them what they want. You find this mainly in yuppies (rich, white, spoiled brats). It is despair in with which we live and thrive.
We then reach the teenage years. This is when we grow up to lose ourselves. We begin to realize just how minuscule we are, and how meaningless our lives are. This is Kierkegaard’s favorite, I believe. Kierkegaard says that anxiety, or angst, is what truly makes us people. This anxiety gives us the feeling of importance and shows us that we have choice. Standing on a ledge, we can choose to jump, peer over, or just walk away. It gives us a feeling that nothing else can give us. It gives us power. However, with any power, this power can overtake us. We can sink so far into anxiety and angst, that it seems like we can never escape, and then our souls die. We begin to try and find direction for our lives. What we want to do when we grow up, whether to smoke or not, whether to drink or not, whether to disappoint our parents or not. They are all choices that come at us all at once, and we must differentiate what is merely peer influence, and what it is that WE want. This is our defining moment as people. We control the course of our lives at this time.
The whole idea of this development, is that we start as "perfect" beings and become angst-ridden beings. Kierkegaard would tell us that we experience this angst to make choices that will mold who we become.
The beginning of this cycle is birth and early childhood. As soon as we come out of the womb, there are certain expectations that our parents must adhere to, no matter what. They believe that you, their child, will be something. They believe you will make something out of your life, and not be like them, having grown up to just become lost in the world. Parents strive for our first word, and our first steps, bragging to all of their friends about how smart you are, and how quickly you are developing. The flaw in this way of thinking is that not all children develop in the same way. Just as you will see later in life, as children develop into adults. We make our parents proud in these first few years.
Then we develop into children. At this point in your life, you will become slightly more aware of the world. This is how we begin to acquire our flaws and prejudices. Any prejudices that our parents put forth, will be mirrored through us. It may take years to break through these prejudices to become these perfect creatures that our parents want us to be. However, despite how many prejudices we manage to break down, we will never be truly perfect or comfortable with everything in the world. The closest to perfection we ever come, is when we are expelled from the womb, before outside influences begin to shape our outcome. This stage of development is often characterized by a disregard to laws and rules. This disregard may disappear for a few years, only to reappear in teenage years. This is when our parents begin to realize that we are NOT perfect beings.
The next stage encompasses the age of 10-12 years old. This stage is characterized by a distinct shift from childhood to what is commonly referred to as preteen. Children begin to understand greater concepts and begin to react to the world in more of a melodramatic way. They try to employ tactics of guilt to get what they want. In this, they act is if they do not know any better, when in reality, they know exactly what they are doing. This is when they begin to develop into the angst-ridden and anxiety-filled teens. The begin to try to center the world around themselves. Some children grow up, but never grow out of this stage. Some people are stuck in this stage until the world gives them a proverbial slap in the face. They become so engulfed in themselves, that they expect the world to always give them what they want. You find this mainly in yuppies (rich, white, spoiled brats). It is despair in with which we live and thrive.
We then reach the teenage years. This is when we grow up to lose ourselves. We begin to realize just how minuscule we are, and how meaningless our lives are. This is Kierkegaard’s favorite, I believe. Kierkegaard says that anxiety, or angst, is what truly makes us people. This anxiety gives us the feeling of importance and shows us that we have choice. Standing on a ledge, we can choose to jump, peer over, or just walk away. It gives us a feeling that nothing else can give us. It gives us power. However, with any power, this power can overtake us. We can sink so far into anxiety and angst, that it seems like we can never escape, and then our souls die. We begin to try and find direction for our lives. What we want to do when we grow up, whether to smoke or not, whether to drink or not, whether to disappoint our parents or not. They are all choices that come at us all at once, and we must differentiate what is merely peer influence, and what it is that WE want. This is our defining moment as people. We control the course of our lives at this time.
The whole idea of this development, is that we start as "perfect" beings and become angst-ridden beings. Kierkegaard would tell us that we experience this angst to make choices that will mold who we become.
A Hopeful Existentialism...
Philosophy provides myriad explanations for what a human being is, or rather, for what sets us apart from animals, or any other being that may exist. For Aristotle, perhaps the reason was the ability to strive for a virtuous life; for Kant, the ability to reason; for the Existentialist, it is freedom. That freedom seems most clearly evidenced to me, in Sartre's analogy of the precipice--it is not the fear of falling off the cliff that terrifies us so deeply, but instead, it is the knowledge that we are so free that we have the power to throw ourselves off of the cliff, and we must make the choice of whether we want to live or to die. I have to wonder though, whether or not, every single moment that we are alive is in fact a precipice. Do I not have the choice at any given moment to take my own life? This idea of suicide however, seems to insinuate a second choice upon reaching the precipice: ergo, ostensibly, to freely choose a life of hope: a life that allows for the need for a perspicacious existence, for an intimacy with one's own angst, for the endless questions of being, but also reserves a place for movement and action in the depths of such anxiety. The problem with anxiety is that it is paralyzing, and if existential thought leads only to a being that is frozen on the edge of the precipice unsure of whether they desire life or if they desire death, then I find a deep critique with this movement. However, if the movement finds a place for hope in the midst of such anxiety, and releases the paralyzed being to pick up his/her bag and keep walking along the edge, so to speak, then, I find these contemplations not only stimulating but also compelling.
The beginning of Existentialist thought was Kierkegaard's philosophical theology per se, which answers more than the basic existentialist question, "what am I to do with my freedom?" It also asks the questions, "How am I to respond to the people around me?" "How am I to respond to suffering?" "Will I choose religion, atheism, or even nihilism?" and "How can I be true to my being throughout my life?" Ultimately, these questions are as important as the basic question of freedom. I have to wonder what happened to these questions along the way…
Nietzsche follows Kierkegaard with regards to being a progenitor of this movement, but it is interesting, how even though both are deeply critical of modern Christianity--Kierkegaard creates what I am going to deem a "hopeful existentialism" whereas Nietzsche creates a "hope-less existential" paradigm. What is the difference between them? Why did their followers take ideas from both, but end up with Nietzsche's hopelessness? Nietzsche says that a being that seeks humility in relation to others or that judges their innate animalistic instinct as evil, is a weak and sick being, and I want to contend with this. Not because I believe our animalistic instincts are "evil", but because arrogance leaves no room for hope; the moments where humans step out of the boundaries of themselves and work solely for the profit of someone else are the transcending moments that propel us along the edge of the precipice--it is in moments of humility that we find hope in humanity. We have seen that humanity can be the übermench, but how often do we see humanity in moments of humility or hope? (This is why Obama has created such a stir…) The problem I find with Nietzsche's philosophy, apart from it being hopeless, is that it does not consider anyone but the self--and this is the root that stemmed many of the future Existentialist thinkers. Kierkegaard, on the other hand, creates a philosophy that stimulates an oscillation among the realms of the ethical and the absolute, thus enabling an easy guide for praxis. However, even if there was not a religious realm for your life, there could always be the praxis between the realms of the Aesthete and the ethical. Thus, there are two ways to create a hopeful existentialism, but they are both rooted in understanding the "other" as playing an integral role--for Kierkegaard, this "other" was embedded in his relationship to the absolute-to God, for other existentialists, this "other", is perhaps simply the relationships with the public, ethical sphere--quite simply, with every other person around you.
Hope cannot be derived from thought--it requires the habitual praxis of considering both questions: What will I do with my freedom? And secondly: How will I respond to the people around me? The first question initializes the view of the self, which creates a moral stimulus for the second question. Thus, the 2nd question requires the potentiality that is created from that stimulus to be put into actuality. This is similar to the ideas behind potential and kinetic energy, in that the first question begs contemplation and perspicacity (the building of energy--to eventually be released), whereas the second question demands action and execution of said theory of ideas in relation to an actual person, and not merely your own being. The effecting of the ideas cannot solely take place in your own being because within your own being, there lays the unfortunate mechanism of rationalization, and with that, ideas could never play out in their truest form, because the responses would always be a lie.
Thus: in summation, Kierkegaard and Nietzsche both answer the question, "what shall I do with my freedom?" but they lay out two radically opposing philosophies, and the difference between them is the concept of hope. Kierkegaard finds hope in the teleological suspension of the ethical, and in that, finding a relation to the absolute, he is able to have a relation with the ethical, whereas Nietzsche's absolute is your own being--and I propose that it is more than just unlikely that a being can create hope within themselves without regard for the question of "how will I respond to those around me?" Hope requires praxis--whether that be religious in nature or not at all, it still requires the philosopher to look outside of his own mere being to the surrounding world. The potentiality for hope in the existentialist tradition lies within the foundation questions regarding freedom to which the philosopher seeks answers. If we do not have hope, what is the purpose of freedom? Yet, if we have freedom, we can always have hope; otherwise, why are we still alive?
The beginning of Existentialist thought was Kierkegaard's philosophical theology per se, which answers more than the basic existentialist question, "what am I to do with my freedom?" It also asks the questions, "How am I to respond to the people around me?" "How am I to respond to suffering?" "Will I choose religion, atheism, or even nihilism?" and "How can I be true to my being throughout my life?" Ultimately, these questions are as important as the basic question of freedom. I have to wonder what happened to these questions along the way…
Nietzsche follows Kierkegaard with regards to being a progenitor of this movement, but it is interesting, how even though both are deeply critical of modern Christianity--Kierkegaard creates what I am going to deem a "hopeful existentialism" whereas Nietzsche creates a "hope-less existential" paradigm. What is the difference between them? Why did their followers take ideas from both, but end up with Nietzsche's hopelessness? Nietzsche says that a being that seeks humility in relation to others or that judges their innate animalistic instinct as evil, is a weak and sick being, and I want to contend with this. Not because I believe our animalistic instincts are "evil", but because arrogance leaves no room for hope; the moments where humans step out of the boundaries of themselves and work solely for the profit of someone else are the transcending moments that propel us along the edge of the precipice--it is in moments of humility that we find hope in humanity. We have seen that humanity can be the übermench, but how often do we see humanity in moments of humility or hope? (This is why Obama has created such a stir…) The problem I find with Nietzsche's philosophy, apart from it being hopeless, is that it does not consider anyone but the self--and this is the root that stemmed many of the future Existentialist thinkers. Kierkegaard, on the other hand, creates a philosophy that stimulates an oscillation among the realms of the ethical and the absolute, thus enabling an easy guide for praxis. However, even if there was not a religious realm for your life, there could always be the praxis between the realms of the Aesthete and the ethical. Thus, there are two ways to create a hopeful existentialism, but they are both rooted in understanding the "other" as playing an integral role--for Kierkegaard, this "other" was embedded in his relationship to the absolute-to God, for other existentialists, this "other", is perhaps simply the relationships with the public, ethical sphere--quite simply, with every other person around you.
Hope cannot be derived from thought--it requires the habitual praxis of considering both questions: What will I do with my freedom? And secondly: How will I respond to the people around me? The first question initializes the view of the self, which creates a moral stimulus for the second question. Thus, the 2nd question requires the potentiality that is created from that stimulus to be put into actuality. This is similar to the ideas behind potential and kinetic energy, in that the first question begs contemplation and perspicacity (the building of energy--to eventually be released), whereas the second question demands action and execution of said theory of ideas in relation to an actual person, and not merely your own being. The effecting of the ideas cannot solely take place in your own being because within your own being, there lays the unfortunate mechanism of rationalization, and with that, ideas could never play out in their truest form, because the responses would always be a lie.
Thus: in summation, Kierkegaard and Nietzsche both answer the question, "what shall I do with my freedom?" but they lay out two radically opposing philosophies, and the difference between them is the concept of hope. Kierkegaard finds hope in the teleological suspension of the ethical, and in that, finding a relation to the absolute, he is able to have a relation with the ethical, whereas Nietzsche's absolute is your own being--and I propose that it is more than just unlikely that a being can create hope within themselves without regard for the question of "how will I respond to those around me?" Hope requires praxis--whether that be religious in nature or not at all, it still requires the philosopher to look outside of his own mere being to the surrounding world. The potentiality for hope in the existentialist tradition lies within the foundation questions regarding freedom to which the philosopher seeks answers. If we do not have hope, what is the purpose of freedom? Yet, if we have freedom, we can always have hope; otherwise, why are we still alive?
Monday, October 20, 2008
Existential Therapy
One of my roommates, a psychology major, asked me one night if I knew anything about existential psychology. I, in fact, knew nothing about it, so, naturally intrigued, I had to research it more. How could you possibly encourage someone to become a functioning, happy member of society by reminding them of their finitude and freedom? It seems a more daunting, rather than encouraging, proposal.
Existential psychology started to gain popularity in the late 1950s. Rollo May, one of the fathers of existential psychology was a key editor of one of the first publications on the subject, entitled Existence, which was released in 1958. In his work, May focused on the conflict between the human as a subject and the human as an object. We addressed these concepts through Sartre with the difference between the en soi and the pour soi. May states that the tension between these two is necessary to preserve human existence. So, rather than telling people what decisions to make, May would try to help people “decide how to decide.”
May also addresses the trend in modern society away from the individual. With this decrease of individuality, there is also a decrease of responsibility. This would be “the They” that Heidegger talks about. The person becomes unindividuated and unidentifiable. As May puts it, “he has significance only if he gives up his significance.” By reminding a person of their status as an individual with freedom, May would awaken them to their ability to create their own values and make their own decisions concerning their life.
Irvin Yalom, who was greatly influenced by May, outlines four themes involved in the practice of existential therapy: death, freedom and responsibility, isolation, and meaninglessness. Clearly, these themes are not unique to therapy. We came across all of these, in one form or another, in all of our readings so far. Essentially, Yalom has just outlined for us the characteristics of anxiety or angst. For existential therapy, anxiety is seen as a guide, rather than something to be avoided or ‘cured.’ Truly, Heidegger also saw angst as a part of an authentic existence. It is a confrontation with possibility and the indeterminacy of one’s existence. Naturally, it is very easy, like the Underground Man, to get caught in the seemingly infinite possibility of choice and, therefore, be stuck in indecision and inaction. However, the angst of Heidegger and the anxiety discussed by May and Yalom orient the individual towards the future. This is a future of possibility and freedom, which can often be overwhelming. The goal of existential therapy, according to May, is the realization of freedom and meaning.
Initially, I admit I was incredibly skeptical of existential therapy. It sounded more like a fad from the 1960s than any serious psychological endeavor. My issue, I believe, after further research and reflection, concerns the idea that therapy usually works toward a specifically desired goal in the human psyche. Ideally, therapy can reach an ultimate conclusion. I do not believe that this is possible with existential therapy. The key is living without an answer.
Existential psychology started to gain popularity in the late 1950s. Rollo May, one of the fathers of existential psychology was a key editor of one of the first publications on the subject, entitled Existence, which was released in 1958. In his work, May focused on the conflict between the human as a subject and the human as an object. We addressed these concepts through Sartre with the difference between the en soi and the pour soi. May states that the tension between these two is necessary to preserve human existence. So, rather than telling people what decisions to make, May would try to help people “decide how to decide.”
May also addresses the trend in modern society away from the individual. With this decrease of individuality, there is also a decrease of responsibility. This would be “the They” that Heidegger talks about. The person becomes unindividuated and unidentifiable. As May puts it, “he has significance only if he gives up his significance.” By reminding a person of their status as an individual with freedom, May would awaken them to their ability to create their own values and make their own decisions concerning their life.
Irvin Yalom, who was greatly influenced by May, outlines four themes involved in the practice of existential therapy: death, freedom and responsibility, isolation, and meaninglessness. Clearly, these themes are not unique to therapy. We came across all of these, in one form or another, in all of our readings so far. Essentially, Yalom has just outlined for us the characteristics of anxiety or angst. For existential therapy, anxiety is seen as a guide, rather than something to be avoided or ‘cured.’ Truly, Heidegger also saw angst as a part of an authentic existence. It is a confrontation with possibility and the indeterminacy of one’s existence. Naturally, it is very easy, like the Underground Man, to get caught in the seemingly infinite possibility of choice and, therefore, be stuck in indecision and inaction. However, the angst of Heidegger and the anxiety discussed by May and Yalom orient the individual towards the future. This is a future of possibility and freedom, which can often be overwhelming. The goal of existential therapy, according to May, is the realization of freedom and meaning.
Initially, I admit I was incredibly skeptical of existential therapy. It sounded more like a fad from the 1960s than any serious psychological endeavor. My issue, I believe, after further research and reflection, concerns the idea that therapy usually works toward a specifically desired goal in the human psyche. Ideally, therapy can reach an ultimate conclusion. I do not believe that this is possible with existential therapy. The key is living without an answer.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Would Nietzsche be proud?
The other day at Target, I couldn't help but glance at the magazine rack at the checkout. The cover featured Brad and Angelina. Again. They've been the featured couple since their hookup and the news of their ever-expanding family. As I was staring at this cover of two extremely wealthy and successful actors, I wondered, "What would Nietzsche think?" These stars recently seem to be in a competition of who can do the most good in the world. Other than celebrity blunders like Britney or Paris, the new hot topic and obsession is for the do-gooders of Hollywood. It's Oprah versus Angelina versus Bono. Are they really so concerned for the weak, or is there something deeper that's caused this sudden influx in good Samaritans? I really wonder what Nietzsche would think of our A-list Hollywood superstars who seem obsessed with charity work.
The first analysis of stars obsessed with helping those less fortunate than them for Nietzsche would probably be, "This is terrible." The powerful shouldn't be concerned with helping the weak and the overwhelming amount of charity-loving stars just shows how sick our society has become. So in this view, Nietzsche's analysis of our society and the prevailing sickness is true.
But what if they have an ulterior motive? What if the superstars do the charity work for the fame and publicity that goes with it? There was a Law & Order episode involving an actress who had adopted a kid from Africa. Problem was that she accidentally killed the kid and tried to replace him with an African-American baby in hopes that no one would notice. In the end, all that really mattered to the actress was the publicity she got from the adoption; she wasn't really heartbroken over the loss of the first child. It makes you question their motivations. Maybe the A-listers are really doing Nietzsche proud and gaining more power through these "charitable" moves. It's a mean thing to say, but here are people more concerned with the glory of an action rather than the true good of it's outcome. This kind of links back to Leslie's blog on Nietzsche versus Marx, because really, maybe the charity stuff if part of an institution mad to further superstars' power. Charity gains publicity and thaty's hat stars need in their struggle to remain at the top.
Personally, I think that it's a combination. Maybe our society really is sick for being so concerned with the weak. Despite this sickness, however, perhaps the powerful are still power-driven and just adapting to the situation the best way they know how. Since the weak have created the institution of Christianity and such like it, the powerful have learned to manipulate the institution, placate the masses, gain support, and further their own power.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
The Illusion of Choice Part II: A Critique on Sartre's Concept of Freedom
"...I get to make myself who I want to be" -Brittany paraphrasing Sartre (see previous post)
Here's where I disagree with Sartre completely. While he never out rightly puts it in these terms, it follows logically from his argument that we have complete freedom to choose who we are, and therefore make ourselves who we want to be. While I agree with Sartre in some respects, I think he oversimplifies and generalizes the condition of human freedom (if such a thing exists). Let us think about this logically: a child is born HIV positive in Africa. That child did not choose to be inflicted with HIV anymore than he/she chose to be born. You can extend this argument to any disease/disorder. Besides physical limits to our freedom, there are social ones as well. We do not choose what situation we are born into and therefore what cultural values are passed down to us. We are products of our circumstances—we can never escape the lens through which we have been conditioned to view the world. We have no choice. As hard as I might try to escape it, my opinions, thoughts, actions, even desires will always be influenced by western culture and my upbringing. Let’s use an example that is already familiar to us: The Matrix (sorry). Neo and the rest of the Matrix characters were given a choice to escape the Matrix—to realize “reality”, if you will—but, what about those humans who never “wake up”? Who are never told the truth—namely that they are part of a system of control, and by being part of the system, perpetuating power relations, perpetuating the illusion of reality? Do they have a choice to escape the Matrix (Do we have a choice to escape “the system”, panopticon, whatever you want to call it)? Did they have a choice to be in the Matrix in the first place (Did we choose to be born into the system)?
I also would like to consider the issue of emotions. Sartre seems to suggest that we choose are emotions in the same way we choose what clothes we will put on. We are never sad; we only affect ourselves with sadness. I agree with him on some level—we are never inherently any emotion, at least not in the way that an object is the definition of that object. My problem with Sartre’s argument is his conjecture that we choose to affect ourselves with any given emotion. If someone close to me dies, I do not choose to affect myself with sadness; I am rather, affected by sadness. It is silly to reduce all the chemical processes that take place in one’s brain when an emotion is felt, to mere choice. We might choose to appear happy/sad/whatever, but there is a difference between acting happy and being happy, that is being affected by happiness.
Let us assume (like Sartre has assumed without proof) that we as human beings have unlimited freedom. “We are condemned to be free.” This in itself is paradoxical. We cannot choose to be free, we are forced to be free, and to be coerced is the very antithesis of freedom. There is one thing I agree wholeheartedly with Sartre on, and that is his concept of bad faith, and specifically his view of sincerity as bad faith. But if sincerity is bad faith, then we can never truly be sincere, and we therefore cannot choose to be sincere, that is, we do not have the freedom to choose sincerity.
P.S. My first post about Kierkegaard and Zizek (partly titled "The Illusion of Choice") also has some insight on this issue.
P.P.S. As a side note: I traced similarities between Sartre’s concept of Bad Faith and Harry Frankfurt’s definition of Bullshit in his essay/book titled On Bullshit. If you haven’t read it, I highly recommend it. The last line of the essay, and one that is especially poignant to our discussion of Sartre: “…sincerity itself is bullshit.”
P.S. My first post about Kierkegaard and Zizek (partly titled "The Illusion of Choice") also has some insight on this issue.
P.P.S. As a side note: I traced similarities between Sartre’s concept of Bad Faith and Harry Frankfurt’s definition of Bullshit in his essay/book titled On Bullshit. If you haven’t read it, I highly recommend it. The last line of the essay, and one that is especially poignant to our discussion of Sartre: “…sincerity itself is bullshit.”
Friday, October 10, 2008
Gossip Girl and Sartre do not agree…go figure
So I was catching up on some old episodes of the absolutely ridiculous show Gossip Girl and at the very end there was a scene where Dan and Serena are stuck in an elevator and are forced to talk about their issues as a couple. Serena is a wealthy socialite, while Dan lives in Brooklyn and doesn't have much money. After spending the summer broken up, they had just gotten back together, until the elevator scene. After arguing, Serena simply says, "I can't change who I am." To which Dan replies, "And I can't change who I am." (Just for the record, I tried to find this scene on Youtube, but I couldn't.) So after our class on Tuesday, my immediate reaction was that this was a lame excuse because you can change who you are! Well, at least Sartre says so.
Then I started to wonder how many people use that very same excuse. It seems like saying "I can't change who I am," is an easy way to make an excuse for not making a decision that seems inevitable, much like Sartre's woman on the date, except opposite when it comes to facticity and transcendence. By avoiding whatever the problem at hand bay be, in Dan and Serena's case it would be whether they can work out their relationship considering their opposing social status', they are trying to reduce themselves to objects, kind of like the waiter I guess. They are trying to say that they are merely pieces in a puzzle that cannot change their positions in life much like the waiter believes that he is only a waiter and he cannot change that fact of his life.
Maybe it's just me, but I don't understand why someone would choose to think that. In the Gossip Girl situation especially, it's just a way of avoiding a potential life change that you may feel you are not ready for, but without actually admitting any of that. If instead, Serena had said, "I do not want to change who I am just for you," the situation would have been vastly different, but more in line with Sartre's ideas. So maybe by saying "I can't change who I am," Serena is trying to steer clear of hurting someone else by avoiding saying they they are not enough to elicit a change.
Like we discussed in class this week, existentialism is all about taking responsibility for your actions and behaviors and apparently even emotions. I wasn't raised in a very religious house, so the whole idea of people praying to God to change their lives always seemed strange to me. I thought it was a little silly to simply say a prayer and hope things would get better instead of taking action and making things get better. Of course, now that I'm older, I have a better understanding of religion and my thoughts aren't that elementary anymore. However, after spending a lot of time with Patterns of Bad Faith, it all seems to make sense. I can handle living in my everydayness and cope with moments of angst/anxiety when I catch a glimpse of my limitless possibilities if it means that I get to make myself who I want to be. But like a said before, that might just be the control freak in me.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Sartre & Virginia Woolf on Patterns of Bad Faith
In class on Tuesday, October 7th, we discussed Sartre’s “Patterns of Bad Faith”. I really enjoyed this section because I could see where Sartre was going with his philosophy on the patterns of bad faith in a much more familiar and understandable manner than I have encountered in other works. I am going to venture to say that none of us can call ourselves one of Nietzsche’s “übermensches”, however, I can suggest that all of us have encountered the predicament of the woman on a date or the waiter that Sartre uses in “Patterns of Bad Faith”.
While we were discussing this section of the reading, Professor Johnson mentioned Virginia Woolf’s “To The Lighthouse”. After she made the connection between Sartre and Woolf I immediately recalled a scene in the novel that is a perfect example of Sartre’s model of the woman on the date who is conducting herself in bad faith.
While we were discussing this section of the reading, Professor Johnson mentioned Virginia Woolf’s “To The Lighthouse”. After she made the connection between Sartre and Woolf I immediately recalled a scene in the novel that is a perfect example of Sartre’s model of the woman on the date who is conducting herself in bad faith.
In the third and final section of “To the Lighthouse”, there is a scene between the main male character, Mr. Ramsay, and the Viginia Woolfesque character, Lily Briscoe. The scene takes place ten years after Mr. Ramsay’s wife has died and he and Lily, an artist and friend of the Ramsay family, are reunited at the Ramsay’s summerhouse. Mr. Ramsay is a needy, short-tempered man who until now in the novel has had the unwavering support and love of his wife. In this scene, he is seeking the sympathy and attention Lily who is, as Sartre would say, is reducing herself to her transcendence in order to remove herself from the uncomfortable situation.
Lily has decided to continue working on a painting that she had started 10 years prior to the scene however, she cannot concentrate and paint because Mr. Ramsay is hovering, lurking, and being distracting. Lily is very aware of his presence and chooses to ignore it by pretending to drink out of her empty coffee cup, concentrate on her brushes and her paint all in order to “put aside a moment longer that imperious need” that Mr. Ramsay is demanding of her. With him intruding on her space Woolf describes Lily’s struggle to avoid him as this:
“He permeated, he prevailed, he imposed himself. He changed everything. She could not see the colour; she could not see the lines; even with his back turned to her, she could only think, But he’ll be down on me in a moment, demanding- something she felt she could not give him”
“You shan’t touch your canvas, he seemed to say, bearing down on her, till you’ve given me what I want of you. Here he was, close upon her again, greedy, distraught.”
The need that Mr. Ramsay is demanding of Lily is her sympathy. He needs Lily to play the domestic, female role that his wife had played so well (maybe too well, we should ask Sartre if the late Mrs. Ramsay was reducing herself to her facticity by playing the role of “wife” so well). Lily however, is trying to escape his demands by ignoring them. In doing so, she is reducing herself to her transcendence, telling herself that she is above this domestic business, she is an artist in a world where men are telling her women can’t paint. Mr. Ramsay is asking her to act in a way that is not in her nature or character to do. Mr. Ramsay gives her various cues with his gestures and speech that would inevitably allow her to ask him why he is so sulky and how she can reassure him of his self worth. However, Lily pretends to not notice these attempts to gain her sympathy and attention by distracting herself by looking toward the sea (much like the woman on the date in Sartre’s “Patterns of Bad Faith” distracts herself from her date’s demands and intentions with polite conversation about the weather and the nice trees).
“With Mr. Ramsay bearing down on her, she could do nothing. Every time he approached-he was walking up and down the terrace- ruin approached, chaos approached. She could not paint. He made it impossible for her to do anything.”
“He permeated, he prevailed, he imposed himself. He changed everything. She could not see the colour; she could not see the lines; even with his back turned to her, she could only think, But he’ll be down on me in a moment, demanding- something she felt she could not give him”
“You shan’t touch your canvas, he seemed to say, bearing down on her, till you’ve given me what I want of you. Here he was, close upon her again, greedy, distraught.”
The need that Mr. Ramsay is demanding of Lily is her sympathy. He needs Lily to play the domestic, female role that his wife had played so well (maybe too well, we should ask Sartre if the late Mrs. Ramsay was reducing herself to her facticity by playing the role of “wife” so well). Lily however, is trying to escape his demands by ignoring them. In doing so, she is reducing herself to her transcendence, telling herself that she is above this domestic business, she is an artist in a world where men are telling her women can’t paint. Mr. Ramsay is asking her to act in a way that is not in her nature or character to do. Mr. Ramsay gives her various cues with his gestures and speech that would inevitably allow her to ask him why he is so sulky and how she can reassure him of his self worth. However, Lily pretends to not notice these attempts to gain her sympathy and attention by distracting herself by looking toward the sea (much like the woman on the date in Sartre’s “Patterns of Bad Faith” distracts herself from her date’s demands and intentions with polite conversation about the weather and the nice trees).
The difference between Sartre’s example and Woolf’s is that in “To the Lighthouse” we can see Mr. Ramsay’s attempts to make Lily make “the decision” and Lily’s struggle to escape acting in a decisive manner in great detail. Unlike the woman in Sartre’s “Patterns of Bad Faith”, we can see Lily reducing herself to her transcendence and her recognizing that she is doing so. In “Pattern’s of Bad Faith”, Sartre leads us to believe that the woman is lying to herself about her transcendence. I think that “lying” is too harsh of a word to use here. As Lily as an example, it is clear that Lily knows that she is being indecisive and her decision to reduce herself to her transcendence is making her uncomfortable and feel guilty. She also recognizes that she is making Mr. Ramsay uncomfortable and frustrated. She is not oblivious to her behavior; she is having an internal struggle with herself as well as a polite, unspoken struggle with Mr. Ramsay. However, despite her recognition of her transcendence and her guilt for her behavior, she is still conducting herself in bad faith according to Sartre. However, if she were to cave to Mr. Ramsay’s demands, Sartre would probably say that she is still acting in bad faith because she is reducing herself to her facticity by playing the role of Mrs. Ramsay (who while she was alive played the role of the traditional, domestic, nurturing, idealized wife to an excruciatingly perfect manner). Sartre seems like a tough guy to please and as we discussed in class, it is almost impossible to find that balance between reducing oneself to their transcendence or facticity in order to conduct oneself in good faith. And with that I will leave you with my favorite quote from this scene in “To the Lighthouse” which is a perfect summary of the scenario and the two characters unspoken struggle with each other and their own bad faith:
“They stood there, isolated from the rest of the world. His immense self-pity, his demand for sympathy poured and spread itself in pools at her feet, and all she did, miserable sinner that she was, was to draw her skirts a little closer round her ankles, lest she should get wet”.
“They stood there, isolated from the rest of the world. His immense self-pity, his demand for sympathy poured and spread itself in pools at her feet, and all she did, miserable sinner that she was, was to draw her skirts a little closer round her ankles, lest she should get wet”.
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