Wednesday, 18 March 2015
The End
I never did "autobiographical" stuff on here, but as it's the last one I feel it's the right way to close this thing. I began this blog shortly before I embarked on my undergraduate degree in philosophy some years ago, looking at it as a way to chart the development of my understanding. I had a lot to say when I was younger but as I've grown I realise that if you are concerned about the truth silence will often do.
Tuesday, 20 May 2014
Nietzsche: Unity and Self
It has been some time since I posted anything like this, and needless to say life is now something else entirely! In any case, here are some of my latest thoughts (more to come):
In this essay I am going to consider the question of the self, the drives, and of unity in Nietzsche’s writings. I defend an interpretation of Nietzsche’s view which holds that unity is the predominance of one drive or drives over all others, an interpretation which we will call the predominance thesis. To this end I will engage with recent arguments against the predominance thesis put forward by Paul Katsafanas. I will begin in section I with a brief consideration of the drives in order to situate the unified self within Nietzsche’s wider drive psychology. In section II I present evidence in favour of the predominance thesis before going on to consider Katsafanas’ textual objections in section III. Section IV will consider Katsafanas’ philosophical objection leading us to consider how far we might go in attributing acts to an agent in light of the findings of the predominance thesis.
I
So what is the self for Nietzsche? In order to get a foothold on this
question we should briefly consider an account of the self which Nietzsche
explicitly rejects:
From
now on, my dear philosophers, let us be wary of the dangerous old conceptual
fable which posited a “pure, will-less, painless, timeless knowing subject”…
(GM III.12)
While innumerable iterations of this
same notion have appeared throughout the Western philosophical tradition and
beyond, we will briefly consider the Kantian account (as one of Nietzsche’s favoured
antagonists). Kant’s claim, broadly speaking, is that one cannot be identified
with their “empirical consciousness”, that inner states must be attributable to a pure subject which transcends their empirical
consciousness. Inner states are mutable and flux whereas the transcendental
subject must be immutable and invariant in order to sustain its identity
throughout a succession of such states. This idea of a self as distinct from
its conscious acts feeds into a conception of agency wherein the subject enjoys
a measure of distance from its impulses. As Christine Korsgaard puts it:
[W]hen you deliberate, it is as if there were
something over and above all of your desires, something which is you, and which
chooses which desire to act on.[1]
But the self, for Nietzsche, is not
something which stands over the world from a lofty transcendental vantage but
rather stands immersed within it. To “suspend the feelings altogether”, he
writes, amounts to the “castration of the intellect” (GM III.12). Ken Gemes is
keen to point out, however, that Nietzsche’s critiques are not simply outright
eliminations of these cherished notions but often rather attempts to ask again
what is meant by soul, spirit, free will, etc.[2]
Nietzsche writes:
Let
[“soul atomism”] be allowed to designate that belief which regards the soul as
being something indestructible, eternal, indivisible […] this belief ought to be ejected from science! Between ourselves, it
is not at all necessary by that same act to get rid of ‘the soul’ itself […]
the road to new forms and refinements of the soul-hypothesis stands open: and
such conceptions as ‘mortal soul’, and ‘soul as multiplicity of the subject’
and ‘soul as social structure of the drives and emotions’ want henceforth to possess
civic rights in science. (BGE 12)
This idea of the soul as social
structure is an instructive metaphor and one through which we can approach the
problem of the unity of self. The
idea of a plural self stands in a special relation with another notion
central to Nietzsche’s mature thought: the will to power. The notion of the
drives, present throughout Nietzsche’s work (indeed right down to his
philological studies[3]),
is tied to this notion of willing:
He
who wills adds in this way the sensations of pleasure of the successful
executive agents, the serviceable ‘under-wills’ or ‘under-souls’ – for our body
is only a social structure composed of many souls […] what happens here is what
happens in every well-constructed and happy commonwealth: the ruling class
identifies itself with the successes of the commonwealth. (BGE 19)
The illusion of an atomistic soul
is, then, the result of the dominant drives identifying with the whole work
which the ‘under-wills’ carry out under their command. When we experience a
clash of drives we fall prey to the idea that “we” as transcendent arbiter are overseeing
the conflict, assessing the relative virtues of each drive in the way Korsgaard
imagines. Nietzsche arguess that our intellect, weighing in on the conflict, is
only the “blind tool of another drive” - that the experience of combating a
drive is actually just one drive “complaining about another” (D 109). The
intellect, of course, cannot bring any of its own force to bear on the conflict
because, despite our imagining it as “essentially opposed to the instincts”, it
is “actually nothing but a certain
behaviour of the instincts towards one another” (GS 333, see also BGE 36).
In a note from 1885 Nietzsche considers that consciousness, while experienced
superficially as a unity distinct from the manifold of impulses, is actually
the result of the “interaction and struggle” of a “multiplicity of subjects”:
The
assumption of one single subject is perhaps unnecessary; perhaps it is just as
permissible to assume a multiplicity of subjects, whose interaction and
struggle is the basis of our thought and
consciousness in general. (WP 490, my emphasis)
Nietzsche presents us with a
commonwealth composed of souls which are conceived as active drives or wills, breaking entirely with
the theory of a unitary soul whose ideal is disinterested
contemplation. Proponents of the “pure, will-less, painless, timeless knowing
subject” tend to hold that being in the grip of an impulse distorts one’s view.
While Nietzsche certainly accepts that drives can oppose knowledge[4]
he also denies that there is any knowledge, any seeing at all without drives. Indeed, disinterested contemplation,
as an “eye from nowhere”, could not have the “active power of interpretation
which turns seeing into seeing something”
(GM III.12, my emphasis). An eye which “sees from nowhere”, Nietzsche writes,
“is impossible to imagine”. But what exactly is this active power of
interpretation?
In
so far as the word ‘knowledge’ has any meaning, the world is knowable; but it
is interpretable otherwise, it has no meaning behind it, but countless
meanings. - ‘Perspectivism.’
It is our needs that interpret the world; our
drives and their For and Against. Every drive is a kind of
lust to rule; each one has its perspective that it would like to compel all the
other drives to accept as a norm. (WP 481)
So the drives themselves are the
locus of evaluative power, their
evaluations entrenched in our thinking and perceiving. But what of this
question of unity of the self when
Nietzsche has stressed this subject-multiplicity so much? Many commentators in
fact take Nietzsche to be a “prophet of disunity”, as denying the possibility
of any unitary self whatsoever.[5]
In the next section we will look deeper into how Nietzschean unity stands with
respect to the manifold self.
II
The version of the predominance
thesis which I hope to defend can be summarised in four broad claims which we
will now spend some time with: (1) the self is constituted by a plurality of
drives, (2) unity of self is a condition wherein one drive (or group of drives)
dominates all others, (3) consciousness is a mode of the interaction between
drives, (4) unity is a precondition of genuine agency.
In Composing the Soul, Graham Parkes notes that, despite Nietzsche’s emphasis
on the multiplicity of drives in the soul, he nonetheless also stresses the
importance of disciplining those
drives and imposing order upon them.[6]
Nietzsche speaks disparagingly of a “feeble vacillation back and forth between
different drives” (HH 278) and in passages like D 272, BGE 200, and BGE 208 we
see him diagnosing corruption resulting from:
inheritance
of a diversified descent, that is to say contrary and often not merely contrary
drives and values which struggle with one another and rarely leave one another
in peace – such a man of late cultures and broken lights will, on average, be a
rather weak man… (BGE 200)
Having too many drives which interfere
with one another can exhaust a person, leading Nietzsche to declare that:
that
which becomes most profoundly sick and degenerates in such hybrids is the will… (BGE 208)
Owing to our subject-multiplicity we
often find that first this evaluation then that comes to the fore in a
fruitless shifting back and forth between weaker drives, none of which can develop
any momentum. Nietzsche writes that “a dance is not a languid reeling back and
forth between drives” but rather requires “strength and suppleness” (HH 278). The
predominance thesis, then, holds that unity
in an agent emerges when a drive or drives come to dominate all other drives,
putting an end to this “fruitless back and forth”. Nietzsche writes:
The
multitude and disgregation of impulses and the lack of any systematic order
among [the drives] result in a ‘weak will’; their co-ordination under a single
predominant impulse results in a ‘strong will’: in the first case it is the
oscillation and the lack of gravity; in the latter, the precision and clarity
of direction. (WP 46)
We see that lack of systematic order among impulses results
in a weak will, whereas a predominant drive offers one “precision and clarity
of direction”. As an illustrative example of unity we might consider the
ascetic philosopher from essay three of the Genealogy.
The meaning of the ascetic ideal for the philosopher is to properly cultivate
the soil where knowledge grows and so to turn away from other drives which may
squander the nervous energy required. Nietzsche, for instance, remarks that the
philosopher “loathes marriage” as an “obstacle and disaster on the path to the
optimum” (GM III.7) and that the “domineering passion” of these philosophers
may also have had to “bridle an unrestrained and irritable pride or a wilful
sensuality” (GM III.8). Significantly, this is not out of “hatred of the
senses” but the “will of their domineering instinct (GM III.8). This
domineering drive suspends any other drives which would deprive it of its “clarity
of direction”, at least “in times of
pregnancy”.
Nietzsche seems to think of
predominance as a necessary condition of the great person. In Essay II of the Genealogy of Morals Nietzsche insists
that the history of morality up to now has been preparing for the advent of a sovereign individual who has the right
to make promises - one who has their own “independent, enduring will” (GM II.2, my emphasis). Elsewhere Nietzsche speaks
of how for the Germans the “the strength to will, and to will one thing for a
long time” was stronger (BGE 208). In the same passage he speaks of a coming
age of “grand politics” which can set
its goals “thousands of years ahead”.
Similarly in The Gay Science we see Nietzsche talking of this protracted will
with respect to science, insisting that a study of moral matters will take
several generations, “centuries of experimentation”, to complete (GS 7). Though
he certainly has his reservations about whether science’s “cyclopic buildings”
are possible at all, nevertheless we see a sense in all of this that truly
great tasks demand extended efforts which cannot permit of interruption from
competing drives. For the great man must have a “long logic in all his
activity” and “the ability to extend his will across great
stretches of his life” (WP 962).
The domineering drive has to be powerful enough to defend “against accidents,
even ‘against fate’” (GM II.2).
A disunified soul, however, would
not be able to accomplish the things which, e.g. the ascetic philosopher
accomplishes. As a result of lacking the strength to placate intervening drives,
one’s existence would be a series of short-lived projects wherein the only persistent
activities one might pursue are when we are forced
to do something. As Ken Gemes puts it:
Consider
[Nietzsche’s] account of herd man; he is a mere collection of ever fluctuating,
competing drives, with different drives dominating at different times. Such an
animal cannot take on genuine commitments to the future, for such a being has
no genuine continuity over time.[7]
Interestingly, however, Gemes holds
that one must be unified in order to have a character at all, which implies that one must be unified in order for actions
to be able to be attributable to that character.
To
have a character is to have a stable,
unified, and integrated hierarchy of
drives […] Modern man, who is at the mercy of a menagerie of competing forces,
internal and external, has no such character.[8]
The distinction between genuine action and mere behaviour is
here construed as the difference between being the locus of various
disorganised forces and being “the effective agent behind a doing”.[9]
Though being the effective agent “behind” a doing cannot be the same thing as
being a conscious I which stands distinct from the drives and co-ordinates
their operation from afar.[10]
The sense of selfhood bound to this kind of agency develops out of a
predominant drive:
The
I is not the attitude of one being to several (drives, thoughts, etc.) but the
ego is a plurality of person-like forces, of which now this one now that one
stands in the foreground and regards the others […] as the drives are in
conflict, the feeling of the I is always
strongest where the preponderance is […] Instinctively we make the predominant quantity momentarily into
the whole ego and place all weaker
drives perspectivally farther away… (KSA 9:6[70]; 1180)[11]
Unity demands that our “thoughts,
desires, and actions are not haphazard but are instead connected to one
another”[12]
by means of the organising drive. Only then can we describe the operations of
our psyche as manifesting a “self” - though a self which, unlike the atomistic
soul, is more of an effect than a cause. Being a genuine agent, then, means having a character - something which,
owing to our initial condition as a disorganised nexus of forces, we must first
achieve.
It is clear from Nietzsche’s
writings that the emergence of a predominant drive occurs prior to the event of
conscious deliberation. The great person’s devotion to an idea or a cause grips
them “inevitably, fatefully, involuntarily, as a river bursting its banks is
involuntary” - the culmination of historic/physiological forces finally being
discharged (TI IX.44). Elsewhere Nietzsche affirms the notion that development
of the drives is a chance affair:
This
alimentation thus becomes the work of chance: our daily experiences toss
willy-nilly to this drive or that drive some prey that it seizes greedily, but
the whole coming and going of these events exists completely apart from any
meaningful connection to the alimentary needs of the sum drives (D 119).
This lack of conscious choice is
reminiscent of the image of mounting “lack of gravity” in WP 46, evoking the
idea that this will is not something we stand over and control but rather
something which grounds us and pulls us inexorably in one direction.
Nietzsche writes:
“I
have no idea what I’m doing! I have
no idea what I should do!” You’re
right, but make no mistake about it: you
are being done! moment by every moment! Humanity has, through all ages,
confused the active and the passive, it is the everlasting grammatical blunder.
(D 120)
Unity of self, then, is something
which happens to us, like all strivings of will, and which therefore takes a
bit of fortuity and the right circumstances to bring about. Even if we choose, as Nietzsche did, to move to
places more conducive to creativity, to judge a place more “conducive” is still
an evaluation and the work of a
drive.
The predominance thesis, then, can
be construed as an account of the conditions necessary for genuine action. A
disunified self would be fragmentary and disorganised, unable to participate in
something like “grand politics” or the establishment of science’s “cyclopic
buildings” without being steered off course by intervening drives. A unified
self is a self with a purpose, or as
Parkes puts it, a “task”, which is constituted
by a strong drive. As we saw in D 109, one comes to identify with the “winning drive” (it defines ones character[13])
which squares with the tendency we have for understanding ourselves and others
in terms of the drives which win out in us, perhaps leading us to live a life
as “an artist” or maybe even “a soldier”.
We have considered the Nietzschean
self as a subject-multiplicity and have explored the possibility of unifying
this multiplicity under the governance of a predominant drive or drives. With
this interpretation on the table we will next go on to consider Katsafanas’
arguments against the interpretation I have outlined, beginning first with some
textual concerns before moving on to the philosophical argument.
III
Katsafanas wants first to deal with
passages like WP 46 cited above which offer the strongest evidence in favour of
the predominance thesis. He proceeds by stressing another element of
Nietzsche’s attitude toward the drives: his praise of inconsistency and
conflict amongst them.[14]
Katsafanas cites the following passage (from 1884):
In contrast to the animals,
man has cultivated an abundance of contrary
drives and impulses within
himself: thanks to this synthesis, he is master of the earth […] The highest
man would have the greatest multiplicity of drives, in the relatively greatest
strength that can be endured. Indeed, where the plant “man” shows himself
strongest one finds instincts that conflict powerfully (e.g. in Shakespeare)
but are controlled. (WP 966)
In this passage Nietzsche appears
not to be praising the dominance of drives over other drives, but rather
explicitly encouraging multiplicity and even conflict among the drives (albeit
controlled conflict). But are these remarks actually in conflict with the
predominance thesis? Taken at face value, we would want to say yes – however
this would be to ignore a nuance of Nietzsche’s attitude towards encouraging
multiplicity and even conflict among drives. In the passage Katsafanas cites,
there is a middle section left unquoted which may provide a clue:
Moralities
are the expression of locally limited orders of rank in his multifarious world
of drives, so man should not perish through their contradictions. Thus a drive
as master, its opposite weakened, refined, as the impulse that provides the
stimulus for the activity of the chief drive. (WP 966)
The idea then, it seems, is that
conflict amongst the drives is not beneficial “in itself” but is rather
intended to provide some sort of stimulation for the chief drive itself. But what kind of stimulation? To help us out
here, recall one of the passages on “diversified descent” cited above where we
see Nietzsche claiming that internal conflict among drives makes certain types
weary:
The
man of an era of dissolution […] contains within him the inheritance of a
diversified descent, that is to say contrary and not merely contradictory
drives and values […] his fundamental desire is that the war he is should come to an end (BGE 200).
As we saw above, Nietzsche feels
that these origins can run one down because the various drives expend the
energy of the organism in their conflict with one another (D 272). Nietzsche’s
praise of inconsistent drives seems strange in this light. The conflicted
person becomes exhausted by their inner conflict and simply wishes for it to
cease - their happiness in keeping with the happiness of a “sedative”.
If,
however, the contrariety and war in such a nature should act as one more stimulus and enticement to life –
and if, on the other hand, in addition to powerful and irreconcilable drives,
there has also been inherited and cultivated a proper mastery and subtlety in
conducting a war against oneself, that is to say self-control […] then there
arise those marvellously incomprehensible and unfathomable men […] pre-destined
for victory. (BGE 200)
Here we see that a curious feature
of Nietzsche’s view is that multiple origins does not necessarily lead to a weakened physiological, and therefore
cultural, profile. In fact this conflict can actually serve as the stimulus and
strengthening power of one who has practiced self-control and self-mastery,
which as we discovered in D 109, can only be the mastery of another drive. In a
telling remark at the end of the passage, Nietzsche states that both the weak
person craving sedation and the strong who thrive on conflict grow out of the
same condition: conflicting drives. The reason for Nietzsche’s ambiguity on the
value of conflicting drives, then, is that they can be damaging to the
physiologically weak but can actually forge any stronger, more domineering
drives.
IV
We should now consider Katsafanas’
philosophical argument against interpreting unity as the predominance of a
drive or drives over all others. The argument turns on the idea of genuine
agency and claims that we do not want to consider someone who is, for example,
dominated by an urge to drink alcohol as manifesting “agential control” when
they give in to the urge. Katsafanas
uses this example to argue that the predominance thesis makes a mistaken
assumption, namely that the dominant part has some special claim to being
representative of the self. Rather, he suggests, we tend to locate the agent in
the inclinations against the powerful
impulse to drink.[15]
We often say “they overcame their demons” just as when someone is in
the grip of such a passion we might say “they are not themselves”.
Katsafanas
is troubled by the notion that if “the deliberating agent’s thoughts and
actions are guided, sometimes decisively, by her drives, can the actions that
issue from her genuinely be regarded as her
doings?”[16]
He remarks that “it
seems perverse to claim that when such an alcoholic succumbs to his addiction
he is manifesting agential control”.[17] Indeed,
we tend to see an alcoholic as the victim
of a drive to intoxication but do not see, for example, a mountain climber
as the victim of a drive to conquer (or whatever it happens to be). The
alcoholic themselves may see their impulses as an alien force impinging upon
them and making them do something they don’t want to do. We say they “give in”
to the urge – the “they” being the agent who reflectively judges alcohol to be
harmful. How might we deal with this objection?
Alva Noë makes an interesting and often overlooked point about addiction
and like behaviours: they are meaningful in the context of the addict’s life. Noë situates addictive behaviour amidst:
the
pattern of needs, options, values, preferences and pressures that structure the
person's ongoing life in a community with others.[18]
That one is not merely under assault by blind
and impersonal forces and that these actions rather make sense in the context
of an addict’s life is something we could imagine Nietzsche considering. After
all, his talk of drives is laden with personal metaphor, even leading some
commentators to consider the drives to be agents in their own right.[19] Without entering too deeply into what
precisely Nietzsche means to imply with this agential language, it is enough to
say that the drives are not simply portrayed as blind, mechanistic processes
(even if we are in the dark over what the drives are striving for, or why). Nietzsche’s remarks on the “English
psychologists” forewarn us against interpreting the “directing force of human
development” as “passive, automatic, reflex-like” (GM I.1). He writes
elsewhere:
The
causa sui is the best
self-contradiction hitherto imagined […] the desire for ‘freedom of the will’
in that metaphysical superlative sense […] the desire to bear the whole and
sole responsibilities for one’s actions and to absolve God, world, ancestors,
chance, society from responsibility from them is nothing more than the desire
to be precisely that causa sui […] I
would ask whoever [banishes this conception of free will] also banish […]
‘unfree will’. ‘Unfree will’ is a myth:
in real life it is only a question of
strong and weak wills… (BGE 21, my emphasis).
Nietzsche chastises both proponents
of the “metaphysical superlative” account of free will, seeking to be their own
causa sui, and the proponents of the
“unfree will”, who Nietzsche pens as hoping to be absolved of the burden of responsibility. The idea of an “unfree
will” echoes the interpretation of man as “passive, automatic, reflex-like”
which beckons Nietzsche ire in GM I.1. It is not, then, that one has
“metaphysical freedom”, that we are not determined by participation in
necessity, but nor is it that we are merely clockwork mechanisms behaving
passively. The only story is the story of strong and weak wills, their evaluations, and their struggles.
While we saw that Nietzsche insists
we are “being done”, that we confuse “the active and passive”, nonetheless he
is also keen to stress the active
power of interpretation which drives bring to bear (GM III.12). The drive or drives which constitute a given
person’s addiction tend to “neutralize
the value of everything else”[20], rendering things one once cherished, or
things one otherwise might have cherished, as uninteresting or simply not
valuable:
Owing
to the contrasts other states of consciousness present and to the wasteful
squandering of their nervous energy, people who live for sublime and enraptured
moments are usually wretched and disconsolate; they view those moments [of
intoxication] as their true self and the misery and despair as the effect of everything “outside the self“; thus,
the thought of their environment, their age, their entire world fills them with
vengeful emotions.” (D 50)
While not only referring to people
who literally crave intoxication through drugs[21],
these remarks contribute nicely towards painting a more personal picture of addiction. Nietzsche writes that a wasteful
squandering of energy precedes the destitute condition of chasing intoxication.
One whose nervous energy is routinely squandered should tend to feel lethargic
and will accordingly seek comfort, tranquillity, and exhibit an unwillingness
to take on bold tasks. Nietzsche describes this character-type as “world
weary”, and insists that any other ends - be they moral, artistic, religious –
are for them merely an impediment to intoxication. This drive to intoxication
subordinates all others, evaluating everything else negatively as possibilities
which merely stand in the way of one’s only access to “sublime and enraptured
moments”.
One
thing Nietzsche does stress is that things have multiple meanings which are
prone to change over time (see e.g., GM
II.13 for punishment and all of GM III on ascetic ideals) and addiction is no
exception to this. What it means to be addicted to something is related
intimately to the personal circumstances of that agent.
Characterising the alcoholic’s craving as a mere “drive to drink” gives the
impression that impersonal forces are at work. Bearing in mind Nietzsche’s
remarks about the drive to intoxication we might be better off describing it,
e.g. as a will to sublime feelings in one who has a hard time experiencing them
without alcohol, or perhaps an attempt to nullify one’s recurring anxieties.
However we make sense of it, it is important is to distinguish the ruling
passion from a blind mechanical force and to situate the drive in the context
of the agent’s life. An alcoholic may be struggling with their family situation,
career, or perhaps dealing with a personal trauma.
When
we step aside from the interpretation of addiction which sees it as akin to an
impersonal impulse, it seems far less perverse to accept the conclusion that
giving in to those cravings is an act attributable to the agent. Rather than
seeing the addict as a hapless victim of a wayward drive, it may indeed turn
out to be more illuminating if we pay attention to why an addict behaves like they do. From this perspective we might
indeed come to understand the alcoholic’s giving in to their impulse to drink as
the action most reflective of their character,
by virtue of its being the predominant response to one’s circumstances. For
better or worse, the drives which come to dominate a person also become characteristic of them, representing
their life circumstances and how they cope with them.
V
We
have considered textual evidence in favour of interpreting Nietzsche as
intending by “unity” a predominance of one drive or drives over others. We have
explored notions of genuine agency and mere behaviour common to contemporary
discussions in the philosophy of action and have considered what the
predominance thesis suggests about how Nietzsche’s drive psychology stands with
respect to the distinction. To this end we also considered Paul Katsafanas’
textual and philosophical objections, concluding that Katsafanas’ philosophical
argument characterises the phenomenon of addiction in ways that are improper to
the personal character of the
phenomenon itself and which, on my understanding, Nietzsche would not accept.
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[2]
Gemes, K. “Nietzsche on Free Will,
Autonomy, and the Sovereign Individual”, in “Nietzsche on Freedom and
Autonomy”, Eds. Gemes & May, Oxford University Press, 2009, pp. 44-46
(henceforth “NFAS”)
[3]
Parkes, G. “Composing the Soul”, University
of Chicago Press, 1994, p. 274 (henceforth “CS”)
[4]
See e.g. KSA 9:11[141], cited in Parkes, G. “Composing
the Soul”, University of Chicago Press, 1994, p. 305 (henceforth “CS”)
[5]
Gemes, K. “Postmodernism’s Use and Abuse
of Nietzsche”, in Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, Vol. 62, No. 2,
2001, p. 339 (henceforth “PUA”)
[6] Parkes,
G. “CS”, p. 280
[7]
Gemes, K. “PUA”, p. 343
[8]
Gemes, K. “NFAS”, p. 38 (my emphasis)
[9]
Ibid. p. 34 (note: to be “behind” a doing in this sense simply means to be responsible for it)
[10]
Ibid. p. 48
[11]
Cited in Parkes, G. “CS”, p. 292 and p. 447 (my emphasis)
[12]
Nehamas, A. “Nietzsche: Life as
Literature”, Harvard University Press, 1985, p. 7 (cited in Gemes, K. “PUA”)
[13]
Gemes, K. “NFAS”, p. 48
[14] Katsafanas,
P. “The Concept of Unified Agency in
Nietzsche, Plato, and Schiller”, in Journal of the History of Philosophy, Vol.
49, No. 1 , 2011, p. 97 (henceforth “CUA”)
[15]
Katsafanas, P. “CUA”, p. 98
[16] Katsafanas,
P. “Nietzsche’s Philosophical Psychology”,
(available at: http://brianleiternietzsche.blogspot.co.uk/2010/07/katsafanas-on-nietzsches-philosophical.html),
p. 40 (henceforth “NPP”)
[17]
Katsafanas, P. “CUA”, p. 99
[18] http://www.npr.org/blogs/13.7/2011/09/16/140528777/addiction-a-disorder-of-choice
[19]
See e.g., Katsafanas, P. “NPP”, pp.
4-7 for a helpful discussion of the “homuncular reading” and its proponents.
[20] http://www.npr.org/blogs/13.7/2011/09/16/140528777/addiction-a-disorder-of-choice
[21] D
188 seems to allow feeling inspired by a charming leader of some kind to
qualify as intoxication in this broad sense.
Saturday, 22 June 2013
The Way of Eastern Philosophy
It's regrettable that I often come across philosophers who decry Eastern philosophy for it's "lack of rigour", or who find fault with the lack of argument*. After deciding to undertake a concerted study of Eastern philosophy it quickly became apparent to me that here lay two very different modes of engaging in the work of
philosophy. In a nutshell, misunderstandings come down to quite
different methodological approaches which uncover truth in two different
respects. What stands as truth in one mode does not stand as truth in another.
With this considered, it is easy to see why a "Western" philosopher may disregard Eastern philosophy as nonsense, because the way to truth in which the Western philosopher typically moves is different. There is no premise-conclusion structure. Claims seem merely to appear on the page.** In lieu of an experiential connection to phenomena, thought relies on cognition to deliver us to truth. When confronted with this situation we begin from things which we are reasonably sure are true and then produce the logical consequences of those things in order to discover further truths which we are not independently sure are true. A claim which simply stands on a page can lead us down neither route.
Much philosophy which comes from what you might call a broadly
"Eastern" perspective lays great emphasis on practice. And
by that I mean it is much closer to what you might typically think of as
the development of a skill such as painting rather than aptitude in
largely cognitive operations. In Eastern philosophy a great deal of effort is made towards
ammending one's way of being (gardening, walking, practicing sitting
meditation, etc.) As far as I can explain it with words, the basic idea
is to stop your racing thoughts because the ways in which we habitually
think are too hasty/shallow or simply block us from seeing a phenomenon
which we're attempting to perceive. The central claim is that learning
to calm these thoughts can alter the mode of your perception in such a
way as to open you up to different kinds of insights, unable to be
appreciated in other modes.
Instead of offering arguments or providing evidence, then, the
business of this kind of philosophy gets underway in inviting somebody
to see for themselves by practice. In this respect there is hope for mutual understanding: our shared respect for concrete experience. And I can tell you that it is possible to discover truths in this way, but I cannot hope to convince you of that. What I do know is that you will never
be able to appreciate the truth as disclosed through such methods by
reading words off a page. And that is why they don't present arguments.
Another unfortunate misunderstanding of Eastern philosophy is that because it
cherishes "ignorance" that it is for stupidity and laziness. But again,
this comes down to a failure to appreciate the different modes in which one can discover truth. It is not what we think of as
ignorance which these methods espouse, but rather having too much
knowlege and not enough understanding. The idea is that one
becomes more ignorant the more knowledge one acquires.
Knowledge can give us access to truth, but too much knowledge can
prevent us from seeing the truth. It's simple enough to appreciate this
and doesn't even require hours of skillful stillness under a cherry blossom! We
can all recall times when we got in trouble by hanging onto too many
beliefs about how things are, disregarding what was before our eyes. This popular dismissive understanding of Eastern philosophy is arguably one such case.
________________________________
* I am well aware that there is a body of argumentative
philosophy in India, China, and elsewhere - I do not aim to defend these
philosophies here, and all references to Eastern philosophy should be
taken to refer to the various forms of what is perhaps shortsightedly
described as "mystic" philosophy. I am also aware that many of these "mystics" did engage in public discussion (Chuang-Tzu would often wind up Hui-Tzu, for instance), but the work is not to be found solely or even primarily in debate.
** This criticism often lands on the doorstep of many Western philosophers. I have heard it said of Nietzsche and it is certainly not uncommon to find this said of Martin Heidegger's work. There are well documented similarities in methodology between Eastern thinkers and the particular stream of Western philosophy in which Nietzsche and Heidegger stand. This short essay can stand as a defence of those philosophies as well.
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