Category Archives: Ideas

Picasso

Legend has it that Pablo Picasso was sketching in the park when a bold woman approached him. “It’s you — Picasso, the great artist! Oh, you must sketch my portrait! I insist.”

So Picasso agreed to sketch her. After studying her for a moment, he used a single pencil stroke to create her portrait. He handed the women his work of art.

“It’s perfect!” she gushed. “You managed to capture my essence with one stroke, in one moment. Thank you! How much do I owe you?”

“Five thousand dollars,” the artist replied.

“B-b-but, what?” the woman sputtered. “How could you want so much money for this picture? It only took you a second to draw it!”

To which Picasso responded, “Madame, it took me my entire life.”

*

“Every act of creation is first an act of destruction.”

“Others have seen what is and asked why. I have seen what could be and asked why not.”

“Everything you can imagine is real.”

“An idea is a point of departure and no more. As soon as you elaborate it, it becomes transformed by thought.”

“Never permit a dichotomy to rule your life, a dichotomy in which you hate what you do so you can have pleasure in your spare time. Look for a situation in which your work will give you as much happiness as your spare time.”

“Only put off until tomorrow what you are willing to die having left undone.”

“Some painters transform the sun into a yellow spot, others transform a yellow spot into the sun.”

“One does a whole painting for one peach and people think just the opposite — that particular peach is but a detail.”

“Every positive value has its price in negative terms… the genius of Einstein leads to Hiroshima.”

“There are only two types of women – goddesses and doormats.”

“Bad artists copy. Good artists steal.”

*

And somehow he was never called an asshole.

Fourfold help

Two very different cries for help:

  1. Help! We need to figure out what we ought to do!
  2. Help! I need someone to execute tasks for me!

These cries belong together and should not be separated.

Some people only want to sound the second cry, neglecting to sound the first; and some people only want to answer the first cry, while neglecting the second.

“Being in this together” means
both sounding and responding
to both the first and the second cry.

*

Help! We need to figure out what we ought to do!

Is there another way to see this? — a way that is more productive and more inspiring — that really brings out what matters to all of us?

Let’s look at it from different angles.

What about this way? or, even better… this…

Yes! If we were to take this approach we’d need to do these eight steps…

[Idea semistolen from the One Minute Manager. Yes, I am reading pop-business books. It seems possible that management is the most interesting experience design problem in the world.]

Feeling and thinking

What she wants to say, she has no words for. Her words are so open, ambiguous, indeterminate and vague that they could mean anything.

He only says what can be communicated. His words are so univocal, unambiguous, specific and defined that they can mean nothing of importance.

*

He wants her to communicate clearly. Like a clockmaker he carefully disassembles her sentences, gently cleans the parts, applies a light coat of fine oil, and reassembles them. He establishes definitions, places the elements in syllogistic order, and he sets the meaning in smooth humming motion.

In the end he has helped her speak very clearly, and it has nothing to do with what she needed to say.

*

Her language suffers from indiscipline. She tries to carry the significance of everything at once and communicates nothing.

His language suffers from discipline. He says only what can be communicated with perfect reliability and so he says nothing of significance.

*

She errs toward infinity.

He errs  toward zero.

What is dialectic?

A concrete example of dialectic:

vaseface

One person insists he is looking at a vase (thesis). The other insists he is looking at two faces (antithesis). In talking to one another, each party realizes together that both are seeing an optical illusion (synthesis), which is a kind of being whose essence is to accommodate apparently contradictory but valid ways of seeing.

The deeper understanding of the synthesis comprehends both views as valid-as-far-as-they-go (each can now see either a vase or two faces), but it also sees the incompleteness of each view as it excludes the other.

The assertion that the image is of a vase, and the assertion that the image is of two faces — these assertions are at the same ontological (being) level. The manner in which the image is (the “being” of the picture) is the same in each case: depiction of a thing. The assertion that the image is an optical illusion, however, is ontologically deeper. The being of an illusion is different in kind from the being of a depiction of a thing, and it accommodates both its own being and the being of depiction and holds them in relation to one another.

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It’s a lot easier to help someone see an optical illusion if he’s seen one before. We can appeal to his own prior experience.

Imagine how a description of “seeing” an optical illusion would sound to someone who has never seen an optical illusion. “You are going to turn this vase into a pair of faces? Are you some kind of sorcerer?”

They’re “ontologically blind”, which means they simply have no place in their thinking for the optical illusion’s mode of being. If they try to explain it to themselves or to others it will be described in terms of what they do already know. They’ll use “ontic” terms — the manner of existence that physical objects have.

Until they figure out what you’re trying to show them, they’ve got several options:

  1. They can miss the possibility that they might not understand yet, and simply declare your claim — as they misunderstand it — to be false or true.
  2. They can reduce what you are saying to something they do grasp, and consider the matter settled. (It’s some sort of poetic expression, or a vague moral lesson of some kind, a truth refracted through an unfamiliar culture, an uncannily resonant hallucination, etc.)
  3. They can admit they don’t know what you’re talking about and not worry about it.
  4. They can admit they don’t know what you’re talking about, but let their non-understanding bother them until they see for themselves what you mean.

The situation we are in, if we wish to live dialectically: We are aware that are constantly falling into attitude #2, but if we stay aware of that fact, we can find our way back to attitude #4.

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A moral dialectic:

Thesis: One should maintain his psychic constancy, and be someone to himself and others (or to put it negatively, one should resist akrasia, moral incontinence).

Antithesis: One should be responsive to the voices of others, which means to be open to change (or to put it negatively, one should avoid ideology and hubris).

Synthesis: One should be prepared to dialectically deepen.

This means to pursue authentic understanding of others by extending oneself to them. Rather than simply shift one’s perspective, one retains his perspective, but learns to see it from an ever-broadening vantage that includes the perspectives of others. One “can go” over to the validity of the other, and one can go back over to where he was, but his perspective also moves vertically, and sees the whole landscape of differing perspective from an overview. The lower perspectives are seen as valid from within (“emic”), but are also interrelated from without (“etic”) within a greater emic view. This greater emic view will certainly someday be grasped from an etic view when it is dialectically surpassed and grasped from without, but until that day, it is universally true. This fact does not transport us into infinitude, it only places us in relation with it, and shows us that we are in blessed, eternally-futile pursuit, and it is this futility that is immortality.

dialectic

The golden watchword

From Nietzsche’s Gay Science:

The golden watchword. — Many chains have been laid upon man so that he should no longer behave like an animal: and he has in truth become gentler, more spiritual, more joyful, more reflective than any animal is. Now, however, he suffers from having worn his chains for so long, from being deprived for so long of clean air and free movement: — these chains, however, I shall never cease from repeating, are those heavy and pregnant errors contained in the conceptions of morality, religion and metaphysics. Only when this sickness from one’s chains has also been overcome will the first great goal have truly been attained: the separation of man from the animals. — We stand now in the midst of our work of removing these chains, and we need to proceed with the greatest caution. Only the ennobled man may be given freedom of the spirit; to him alone does alleviation of life draw near and salve his wounds; only he may say that he lives for the sake of joy and for the sake of no further goal; and in any other mouth his motto would be perilous: Peace all around me and goodwill to all things closest to me. — With this motto for individuals he recalls an ancient great and moving saying intended for all which has remained hanging over all mankind as a sign and motto by which anyone shall perish who inscribes it on his banner too soon — by which Christianity perished. The time has, it seems, still not yet come when all men are to share the experience of those shepherds who saw the heavens brighten above them and heard the words: “On earth peace, good will toward men.” — It is still the age of the individual.

Understanding freedom

Every misunderstanding, by definition, feels like an understanding. To argue that you do not misunderstand in the basis of the fact that you do have an understanding, only demonstrates that you are unaware of what understanding involves.

*

To look someone in the eye and tell them, despite their protests that you have misunderstood, that you do in fact understand them: this is despicable. The more powerful you are the more able you are to avoid being confronted with this fact. The powerful can enlist yes-men to reinforce their delusions of comprehensive mastery.

*

Some people are at their worst when they are weak. They lack the strength to live up to — or sometimes even to remember — their own ideal.

Other people are at their worst when they are strong. They lack the constraints necessary to bring them into line with any persistent ideal. Such people have never known a reason to be principled except to avoid punishment. Escaping the possibility of punishment is tantamount to escaping obligation.

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It takes a long time for people who have been unfree to realize that freedom is neither anarchy nor is it holding the power to enslave.

Being free means being free for one’s own responsibility.

Being responsible means to be able to respond to one’s situation.

To be able to respond to one’s situation requires that one understand it.

To understand one’s situation is to recognize that every situation involves both objects and other people.

To recognize that every situation involves both objects and other people, requires that one know the difference between I-It relationships and I-Thou relationships.

Far too few people in positions of power know anything other than I-It.

I-Thou means: “You can change my world if I hear you.”

*

The mania for quantification, scientificality, objectivity and its consequent objectivist reductionism of human beings to resources to utilize in order to meet one’s own objectives… this is the consequence of a species of intellectual vulgarity.

So far, the field of User Experience has allowed itself to be utilized as a tool for behavioral manipulation. At the heart of User Experience, though, is a principle opposed to this use: that a person should be understood and related to not as an It object but as Thou. The techniques of User Experience are further along than its self-awareness, which is a good thing. Sometimes ignorance serves as a protective shell. The seeds have been planted, now they can grow and establish themselves. The flowers and the fruit will come. Gradually, as more and more businesses learn that genuine human relationships with customers and with employees (that is, I-Thou relationships) work better than I-It manipulations that seek to simulate humanity, a different class of business leader will emerge.

At first, the shift will be strictly utilitarian, but I hope eventually we will acquire a taste for it, and I look forward to the day when we look back and shudder at this time of technical control, misguided servile work ethics, neglect of community and children, and the ugly, meaningless and stressful work lives so many accepted as normal.

We will be amazed that we treated workers and students for depression rather than treating workplaces and schools for depressingness. “It was so obvious that it was the workplace that was mentally ill. Why didn’t people see this?”

(This is my practical “metastatic expectation.” It’s not a prediction, but an ideal to pursue.)

Mastery

If one knows knowledge only as a kind of mastery, one misses the most important dimension of knowledge: the knowledge of how to recognize and relate to what exceeds and masters us. The condition manifests in the conception of knowledge in terms of theories and methods, and nothing beyond that. When one is mastered by this conception of knowledge, one is always unaware of it.

At all costs

What survives?

In the crucial moment when one is faced with the hardest decision, two stances can be taken: 1) “I will survive this at all costs.” 2) “I will serve the higher good at all costs.”

“I” might be an individual, or “I” might be an organization. Whether an individual or an organization says it, the moral significance is identical.

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Unfalse

Most of us think that the higher good is something that is not oneself. This negatively stated truth is not false, but it is also not really true. It is more unfalse. It is like asking what color an apple is, and getting the answer “not blue” or “not the sound of a flute”.

True – false – unfalse

Alive – dead – undead

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Self-sacrifice: What is sacrificed to what?

It is generally acknowledged that an individual who knows no good higher than his own individual being is despicable.

An equally important, but less acknowledged fact is that an organization who knows no good higher than its own collective being is despicable.

Only that which can self-sacrifice is worthy of self-sacrifice.

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Anatta

When someone has recognized that what sustains him as a “self” vastly exceeds the sphere of individuality… and he recognizes this sustaining being as more essential to his being than “himself” (as he and the world takes him), he will sacrifice what is less essential to what he experiences as more essential. This is neither altruism nor selfishness, but something beyond the antithesis and incomprehensible from within it.

*

The circular dance of techne

The altruism vs selfishness debate is identical in form to the atheism vs fundamentalism debate.

The antithetical sides disagree on the truth of an impoverished assertion that neither side recognizes as impoverished. Their agreement runs deeper than their disagreement, and their common ground is in fact their common error. Neither side actually wants to find agreement, because to find agreement is to dissolve the ground upon which both sides have taken their stand. The sides seek each other out for argument.

But the agreement is not an agreement of fact. The agreement is practical.

They argue according to methods derived from their shared presuppositions and through adhering to the methods, preserve their joint-illusion regarding the horizon of reality by never moving outside of them.

In this movement there is an unconscious purely practical agreement to disagree, preserved in how the argument is conducted.

The argument is a sort of dyssynetic dance whose technique moves the partners in a tight, invisible circle. The dance of techne is a circle dance.

*

When the unseen common ground of a disagreement is a common error, the disagreement cannot be resolved except through dialectic.

Two happy ones

Two passages from The Gay Science:

Two happy ones. — Certainly this man, notwithstanding his youth, understands the improvisation of life, and astonishes even the acutest observers. For it seems that he never makes a mistake, although he constantly plays the most hazardous games. One is reminded of the improvising masters of the musical art, to whom even the listeners would fain ascribe a divine infallibility of the hand, notwithstanding that they now and then make a mistake, as every mortal is liable to do. But they are skilled and inventive, and always ready in a moment to arrange into the structure of the score the most accidental tone (where the jerk of a finger or a humor brings it about), and to animate the accident with a fine meaning and soul.

Here is quite a different man: every thing that he intends and plans fails with him in the long run. That on which he has now and again set his heart has already brought him several times to the abyss, and to the very verge of ruin; and if he has I as yet got out of the scrape, it certainly has not been merely with a “black eye.” Do you think that he is unhappy over it? He resolved long ago not to regard his own wishes and plans as of so much importance. “If this does not succeed with me,” he says to himself, “perhaps that will succeed; and on the whole I do not know but that I am under more obligation to thank my failures than any of my successes. Am I made to be headstrong, and to wear the bull’s horns? That which constitutes the worth and the sum of life for me, lies somewhere else; I know more of life, because I have been so often on the point of losing it; and just on that account I have more of life than any of you!”

*

In media vita (In mid-life). — No, life has not disappointed me! On the contrary, I find it truer, more desirable and mysterious every year, — ever since the day when the great liberator came to me, the idea that life could be an experiment of the seeker for knowledge — and not a duty, not a calamity, not a trickery! — And knowledge itself: let it be something else for others, for example, a bed to rest on, or the way to such a bed, or a diversion, or a form of leisure, — for me it is a world of dangers and victories in which heroic feelings, too, find places to dance and play. “Life as a means to knowledge” — with this principle in one’s heart one can live not only boldly but even gaily and laugh gaily, too! And who knows how to laugh anyway and live well if he does not first know a good deal about war and victory?

Bill of Rights as suicide pact

A nice dialectical point from Supreme Court Justice Robert Jackson:

“This Court has gone far toward accepting the doctrine that civil liberty means the removal of all restraints from these crowds and that all local attempts to maintain order are impairments of the liberty of the citizen. The choice is not between order and liberty. It is between liberty with order and anarchy without either. There is danger that, if the Court does not temper its doctrinaire logic with a little practical wisdom, it will convert the constitutional Bill of Rights into a suicide pact.”

Terminiello, 337 U.S. 1, 37 (1949) (Jackson, J., joined by Burton, J., dissenting).

Everybody seems to understand the “Bill of Rights is not a suicide pact” differently. It’s an ontological question: what dies in the suicide? Physical people? The legal institutions that uphold the Bill of Rights? The popular credibility of the Bill of Rights? The democratic tradition that makes liberty possible? The principles of our government? The vision?

I’ll say one thing: To decide between two things, both must be understood or one has no decision to make.

Black Elk on the death of his culture

From Black Elk Speaks:

It was now nearly the middle of the Moon of Frost in the Tepee. We heard that soldiers were on Smoky Earth River and were coming to attack us in the O-ona-gazhee. They were near Black Feather’s place. So a party of about sixty of us started on the war-path to find them. My mother tried to keep me at home, because, although I could walk and ride a horse, my wound was not all healed yet. But I would not stay; for, after what I had seen at Wounded Knee, I wanted a chance to kill soldiers.

We rode down Grass Creek to Smoky Earth, and crossed, riding down stream. Soon from the top of a little hill we saw wagons and cavalry guarding them. The soldiers were making a corral of their wagons and getting ready to fight. We got off our horses and went behind some hills to a little knoll, where we crept up to look at the camp. …

By now more cavalry were coming up the river, a big bunch of them, and there was some hard fighting for a while, because there were not enough of us. We were fighting and retreating…

We wanted a much bigger war-party so that we could meet the soldiers and get revenge. But this was hard, because the people were not all of the same mind, and they were hungry and cold. We had a meeting there, and were all ready to go out with more warriors, when Afraid-of-His-Horses came over from Pine Ridge to make peace with Red Cloud, who was with us there.

Our party wanted to go out and fight anyway, but Red Cloud made a speech to us something like this: “Brothers, this is a very hard winter. The women and children are starving and freezing. If this were summer, I would say to keep on fighting to the end. But we cannot do this. We must think of the women and children and that it is very bad for them. So we must make peace, and I will see that nobody is hurt by the soldiers.”

The people agreed to this, for it was true. So we broke camp next day and went down from the O-ona-gazhee to Pine Ridge, and many, many Lakotas were already there. Also, there were many, many soldiers. They stood in two lines with their guns held in front of them as we went through to where we camped.

And so it was all over.

I did not know then how much was ended. When I look back now from this high hill of my old age, I can still see the butchered women and children lying heaped and scattered all along the crooked gulch as plain as when I saw them with eyes still young. And I can see that something else died there in the bloody mud, and was buried in the blizzard. A people’s dream died there. It was a beautiful dream.

And I, to whom so great a vision was given in my youth, – you see me now a pitiful old man who has done nothing, for the nation’s hoop is broken and scattered. There is no center any longer, and the sacred tree is dead.

Nietzsche: ‘What do I matter!’

The tyrants of the spirit. — The march of science is now no longer crossed by the accidental fact that men live for about seventy years, as was for all too long the case. Formerly, a man wanted to reach the far end of knowledge during this period of time and the methods of acquiring knowledge were evaluated in accordance with this universal longing. The small single questions and experiments were counted contemptible: one wanted the shortest route; one believed that, because everything in the world seemed to be accommodated to man, the knowability of things was also accommodated to a human time-span. To solve everything at a stroke, with a single word — that was the secret desire: the task was thought of in the image of the Gordian knot or in that of the egg of Columbus; one did not doubt that in the domain of knowledge too it was possible to reach one’s goal in the manner of Alexander or Columbus and to settle all questions with a single answer. ‘There is a riddle to be solved’: thus did the goal of life appear to the eye of the philosopher; the first thing to do was to find the riddle and to compress the problem of the world into the simplest riddle-form. The boundless ambition and exultation of being the ‘unriddler of the world’ constituted the thinker’s dreams: nothing seemed worth-while if it was not the means of bringing everything to a conclusion for him! Philosophy was thus a kind of supreme struggle to possess the tyrannical rule of the spirit — that some such very fortunate, subtle, inventive, bold and mighty man was in reserve — one only! — was doubted by none, and several, most recently Schopenhauer, fancied themselves to be that one. — From this it follows that by and large the sciences have hitherto been kept back by the moral narrowness of their disciples and that henceforth they must be carried on with a higher and more magnanimous basic feeling. ‘What do I matter!’ — stands over the door of the thinker of the future.

*

It takes courage to stand between the nothingness of pre-birth and the nothingness of death and be humbly finite — always both wrong and right, always both born and destined to die, always both someone and everyone and everything.

The point is not to avoid being wrong. The point is to be as right as we can possibly be. We will always be a wrong to a degree, because that is how knowing is, and that is how we are.

*

Understanding is finite. Every understanding has its own limits.

Every understanding excludes something that some person at some time will recognize as crucial.

We expose the limits of past understanding and understand in a new way whose limits are invisible to us.

We expose old limits and impose new limits.

(To judge judging as bad and to attempt to refrain from further judging is an unjust act of judgment against judgment.)

*

Anaximander via Simplicius:

Whence things have their origin,
Thence also their destruction happens,
According to necessity;
For they give to each other justice and recompense
For their injustice
In conformity with the ordinance of Time.

Anaximander via Nietzsche:

Beings must pay penance and be judged for their injustices, in accordance with the ordinance of time.

Sun

Each time you see the sun, once again, as always, the sun is revealed by particular light.

With each glimpse, particular light, born eight minutes ago, dies in your eye.

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The sun you see now is the same sun that Adam, Abraham, the pharaohs, the Yellow Emperor, Heraclitus, Lao Tzu, Christ, Copernicus, Napoleon, Nietzsche and Pol Pot saw.

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It is interesting to consider that the process you essentially are is powered by the sun.

We — each of us and all of us — are articulations of the sun.

Angus Van Osbourne

I knew a dude (in the most precise sense) in high school who spelled out “Angus Van Osbourne” on his chest with band-aids, and then laid out in the sun in order to inverse-tan the words into his skin. (For the uninitiated, this was a concatenation of the names of the reigning trinity of hard rock at that time, and arguably of all time, Angus Young, Eddie Van Halen and Ozzy Osbourne.)

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Yesterday, I printed up small sepia-toned pictures of my heroes and hung them up on my wall, under my hand-painted Bulgarian Christ the Teacher icon, and to the right of my print of Raphael’s School of Athens, included for its tiny depiction of Heraclitus. I am not finished yet, but so far I have the young Friedrich Nietzsche (wearing the exact same eye-glasses frames I wear), a middle-aged Jorge Luis Borges, an elderly Martin Buber, an elderly Hans-Georg Gadamer, and an elderly Black Elk. In the near future I plan to add Christopher Alexander, James Dicky and Edwin Muir. I am also considering adding Rene Guenon, Jane Jacobs, Lao Tzu and Chuang Tzu.

I told a good friend of mine about what I was doing and he surprised me by observing: “Wow. That’s sort of adolescent.” He didn’t mean it in a mocking or critical way. That was just how it struck him, and he observed it out loud because we’ve known each other for a long time and we say exactly what we think to each other, almost as a demonstration of faith.

It was surprising how true the statement was, but it was even more surprising to me, knowing what impelled me to hang these little picture, how much it enriched my understanding of “adolescent”. I might as well have band-aided “Hans-Jorge Luis Nietzsche” on my chest. It’s the same thing. It is an attempt to weave oneself into some kind of cultural fabric. It is an attempt to put context around my life within which I understand life. It is a longing for the feeling of home.

It is a step toward what Heidegger calls appropriation of tradition.

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I’ve annoyed the hell out of people by screwing up the flow of conversation, looking up passages I felt compelled to quote. “Why can’t you paraphrase it?” I can’t paraphrase it because the content is not only the factual content. It is also the warm and beautiful truth that I am bringing in the present a mind I love and allowing that mind to be present in the conversation. It is making continuity between past and future. It makes me feel like a human being to quote one of my heroes. This is why most of my posts are packed with cross-references and links to other people’s thoughts. It is important to me that I have a heritage, and to quote is to make the my heritage immediate in the form of continuation of tradition.

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A friend of mine told me the story of Pushkin’s last words, how on his deathbed he turned to his books and said “farewell, friends.” If you find this moving, let me know.

Zip! Zoop!

Heraclitus:

The bones connected by joints are at once a unitary whole and not a unitary whole. To be in agreement is to differ; the concordant is the discordant. From out of all the many particulars comes oneness, and out of oneness comes all the many particulars.

Chuang Tzu:

Cook Ting was cutting up an ox for Lord Wen-hui. At every touch of his hand, every heave of his shoulder, every move of his feet, every thrust of his knee — zip! zoop! He slithered the knife along with a zing, and all was in perfect rhythm, as though he were performing the dance of the Mulberry Grove or keeping time to the Ching-shou music.

“Ah, this is marvelous!” said Lord Wen-hui. “Imagine skill reaching such heights!”

Cook Ting laid down his knife and replied, “What I care about is the Way, which goes beyond skill. When I first began cutting up oxen, all I could see was the ox itself. After three years I no longer saw the whole ox. And now — now I go at it by spirit and don’t look with my eyes. Perception and understanding have come to a stop and spirit moves where it wants. I go along with the natural makeup, strike in the big hollows, guide the knife through the big openings, and follow things as they are. So I never touch the smallest ligament or tendon, much less a main joint.

“A good cook changes his knife once a year — because he cuts. A mediocre cook changes his knife once a month — because he hacks. I’ve had this knife of mine for nineteen years and I’ve cut up thousands of oxen with it, and yet the blade is as good as though it had just come from the grindstone. There are spaces between the joints, and the blade of the knife has really no thickness. If you insert what has no thickness into such spaces, then there’s plenty of room — more than enough for the blade to play about it. That’s why after nineteen years the blade of my knife is still as good as when it first came from the grindstone.

“However, whenever I come to a complicated place, I size up the difficulties, tell myself to watch out and be careful, keep my eyes on what I’m doing, work very slowly, and move the knife with the greatest subtlety, until — flop! the whole thing comes apart like a clod of earth crumbling to the ground. I stand there holding the knife and look all around me, completely satisfied and reluctant to move on, and then I wipe off the knife and put it away.”

“Excellent!” said Lord Wen-hui. “I have heard the words of Cook Ting and learned how to care for life!”

Hermeneutical-Rhetorical Circle

Future and Thou

I’ll say this simply, then I’ll say it thoroughly and repellently. (Mark Twain: “I’d write you a shorter letter, but I haven’t the time.”)

Simple version:

I am both like and unlike you in the way that now is both like and unlike an hour from now.

Ugly version:

I think I just understood Heidegger a little deeper, and I wanted to jot down the idea.

Heidegger distinguishes two conceptions of time, “clock time” and lived time (I can’t remember the exact term, and I never scanned the passage). “Clock time” abstracts all moments and makes them equivalent points on a time-line, constituted of an infinite series of moments, each its own “now”. Heidegger saw this abstraction as an alienation from the present and its true relation to past and future, which is one of recollection and anticipation. I read this years ago, so I may have it wrong, but this is how I recall it now, and it is this conception, right or wrong, that I am treating as “Heidegger’s”.

It occurs to me that this same style of abstraction occurs when we abstract a Thou as another I. “We” is taken to be an infinite aggregate of I-subjects.

Our relating of the present moment to some future moment in the future is analogous to my relating my own I to a Thou. The relation preserves an element of likeness, but it also preserves an essential difference. The essential difference is this: the relation is between the I (or the present) — in which it is rooted —  and a projection, the Thou (or the future) — toward which the relation extends. But the I and the present is essentially and immediately constituted of relationships, whereas the object of these relationships is not — not immediately, but through the mediation of the present I. But the relationship I presently have with these projected objects is… that they are essentially constituted of relationships just as I (or the present) is.

Now I’ll say it again, this purely for my own satisfaction, but probably with total loss of comprehensibility:

The immediate (I/now/here) mediates, and this act involves mediation and the mediate. (The mediate = mediated entities.)

Mediation is the essential being of the immediate.

Mediation is also the being of the mediate, in one or two ways depending on the nature of the mediated.

The I-it mediation derives a mediated it-object out of its (more properly, “my”) synthetic activity.

The I-Thou mediation may also derive a mediated Thou-subject out of its (“my”) synthetic activity that takes my Thou-subject as one who mediates and whose mediation can be understood.

The I-Thou relationship — to relate to an other as Thou — means the other can be understood.

To understand is to pursue the immediate mediation taken to be the essential being of the Thou, just as immediate mediation is the essential being of I. This is the Golden Rule.

The act of understanding entails pursuit of change of the immediate, of I, right now, here where I am. This requires faith, both in the existence and value of the immediacy of Thou.

*

To understand another person means to pursue experiencing that person’s world, and the medium for this pursuit is faithful dialogue. This occurs between friends, and it is friendship. Which comes first? They happen together. Friendship is mutual pursuit of mutual understanding. The degree of success is less important than the degree of faith.

On frustrations

When I experience frustrations, I console myself by reminding myself that the setbacks are not interfering with the process of solving problems: they are themselves part of the problem I am solving.

This not only dignifies my frustrations, it enriches my problems.

I live for good, rich problems.

*

Insights are conceived in simplicity.

They grow by their own principles, unseen in the darkness of the inner-soul.

Then they fight their way out of you, and you push and push with with great strain and pain.

Then you hold the new idea in your arms and forget everything else.

*

Once I internalized the fact that everything is philosophy — most of all the painful aspects of life — my relationship to the world and philosophy changed and I spontaneously became a practical thinker.

I don’t think with an intention to produce useful ideas, but all my ideas happen to be useful.

Even when I am tasked with solving a problem, I begin by exploring the problem itself to see how many ways its questions can be asked. Somehow, unfailingly, an unintentionally practical solution comes of its own.

*

Nietzsche (of course):

Is there a more holy condition than that of pregnancy? To do all we do in the unspoken belief that it has somehow to benefit that which is coming to be within us! — Has to enhance its mysterious worth, the thought of which fills us with delight! In this condition we avoid many things without having to force ourselves very hard! We suppress our anger, we offer the hand of conciliation: our child shall grow out of what is gentlest and best. We are horrified if we are sharp or abrupt: suppose it should pour a drop of evil into the dear unknown’s cup of life! Everything is veiled, ominous, we know nothing of what is taking place, we wait and try to be ready. At the same time, a pure and purifying feeling of profound irresponsibility reigns in us almost like that of the auditor before the curtain has gone up — it is growing, it is coming to light: we have no right to determine either its value or the hour of its coming. All the influence we can exert lies in keeping it safe. ‘What is growing here is something greater than we are’ is our most secret hope: we prepare everything for it so that it may come happily into the world: not only everything that may prove useful to it but also the joyfulness and laurel-wreaths of our soul. — It is in this state of consecration that one should live! It is a state one can live in! And if what is expected is an idea, a deed — towards every bringing forth we have essentially no other relationship than that of pregnancy and ought to blow to the winds a presumptuous talk of ‘willing’ and ‘creating’. This is ideal selfishness: continually to watch over and care for and and to keep our soul still, so that our fruitfulness shall come to a happy fulfillment! Thus, as intermediaries, we watch over and care for to the benefit of all; and the mood in which we live, this mood of pride and gentleness, is a balm which spreads far around us and on to restless souls too. — But the pregnant are strange! So, let us be strange too, and let us not hold it against others if they too have to be so! And even if the outcome is dangerous and evil: let us not be less reverential towards that which is coming to be than worldly justice is, which does not permit a judge or executioner to lay hands on one who is pregnant!

*

Heraclitus:

Nature loves to hide itself.

Gadamer: three levels of conceiving the Thou

Here it is, all laid out:

Hermeneutical experience is concerned with tradition. This is what is to be experienced. But tradition is not simply a process that experience teaches us to know and govern; it is language — i.e., it expresses itself like a Thou. A Thou is not an object; it relates itself to us. It would be wrong to think that this means that what is experienced in tradition is to be taken as the opinion of another person, a Thou. Rather, I maintain that the understanding of tradition does not take the traditionary text as an expression of another person’s life, but as meaning that is detached from the person who means it, from an I or a Thou. Still, the relationship to the Thou and the meaning of experience implicit in that relation must be capable of teaching us something about hermeneutical experience. For tradition is a genuine partner in dialogue, and we belong to it, as does the I with a Thou.

It is clear that the experience of the Thou must be special because the Thou is not an object but is in relationship with us. For this reason the elements we have emphasized in the structure of experience will undergo a change. Since here the object of experience is a person, this kind of experience is a moral phenomenon — as is the knowledge acquired through experience, the understanding of the other person. Let us therefore consider the change that occurs in the structure of experience when it is experience of the Thou and when it is hermeneutical experience.

[FIRST STAGE: Thou as a behaving object; understanding as ability to predict behavior and a means to influence/control it. This view is overwhelmingly the norm in business. The problem of the Thou is centered around “eliciting desired behaviors” from customers and employees that benefit the business.]

There is a kind of experience of the Thou that tries to discover typical behavior in one’s fellowmen and can make predictions about others on the basis of experience. We call this a knowledge of human nature. We understand the other person in the same way that we understand any other typical event in our experiential field — i.e., he is predictable. His behavior is as much a means to our end as any other means. From the moral point of view this orientation toward the Thou is purely self-regarding and contradicts the moral definition of man. As we know, in interpreting the categorical imperative Kant said, inter alia, that the other should never be used as a means but always as an end in himself. [NOTE: This is the heart of morality, in my opinion.]

If we relate this form of the I-Thou relation — the kind of understanding of the Thou that constitutes knowledge of human nature — to the hermeneutical problem, the equivalent is naive faith in method and in the objectivity that can be attained through it. [NOTE: There does seem to be an uncanny correlation between fixation on method and an apparent prediction-and-control view of understanding others.] Someone who understands tradition in this way makes it an object — i.e., he confronts it in a free and uninvolved way — and by methodically excluding everything subjective, he discovers what it contains. We saw that he thereby detaches himself from the continuing effect of the tradition in which he himself has his historical reality. It is the method of the social sciences, following the methodological ideas of the eighteenth century and their programatic formulation by Hume, ideas that are a cliched version of scientific method. But this covers only part of the actual procedure of the human sciences, and even that is schematically reduced, since it recognizes only what is typical and regular in behavior. It flattens out the nature of hermeneutical experience in precisely the same way as we have seen in the teleological interpretation of the concept of induction since Aristotle.

[SECOND STAGE: Thou as a separate, “seen against the sky” subjectivity; understanding as psychological explanation. One believes one understands another if he is able to sketch out an accurate and nuanced persona of that person. It has been very, very difficult to extricate myself from this vision of the Thou.]

A second way in which the Thou is experienced and understood is that the Thou is acknowledged as a person, but despite this acknowledgment the understanding of the Thou is still a form of self-relatedness. Such self-regard derives from the dialectical appearance that the dialectic of the I-Thou relation brings with it. This relation is not immediate but reflective. To every claim there is a counterclaim. This is why it is possible for each of the partners in the relationship reflectively to outdo the other. One claims to know the other’s claim from his point of view and even to understand the other better than the other understands himself. In this way the Thou loses the immediacy with which it makes its claim. It is understood, but this means it is co-opted and pre-empted reflectively from the standpoint of the other person. Because it is a mutual relationship, it helps to constitute the reality of the I-Thou relationship itself. The inner historicity of all the relations in the lives of men consists in the fact that there is a constant struggle for mutual recognition. This can have very varied degrees of tension, to the point of the complete domination of one person by the other. But even the most extreme forms of mastery and slavery are a genuine dialectical relationship of the kind that Hegel has elaborated.

The experience of the Thou attained here is more adequate than what we have called the knowledge of human nature, which merely seeks to calculate how the other person will behave. It is an illusion to see another person as a tool that can be absolutely known and used. Even a slave still has a will to power that turns against his master, as Nietzsche rightly said. But the dialectic of reciprocity that governs all I-Thou relationships is inevitably hidden from the consciousness of the individual. The servant who tyrannizes his master by serving him does not believe that he is serving his own aims by doing so. In fact, his own self-consciousness consists precisely in withdrawing from the dialectic of this reciprocity, in reflecting himself out of his relation to the other and so becoming unreachable by him. By understanding the other, by claiming to know him, one robs his claims of their legitimacy. In particular, the dialectic of charitable or welfare work operates in this way, penetrating all relationships between men as a reflective form of the effort to dominate. The claim to understand the other person in advance functions to keep the other person’s claim at a distance. We are familiar with this from the teacher-pupil relationship, an authoritative form of welfare work. In these reflective forms the dialectic of the I-Thou relation becomes more clearly defined. [NOTE: This is why I have soured considerably on personality typology. I’ve seen it used to explain away the relevance of other people’s claims: “this claim is only intelligible and applicable to certain temperaments.”]

In the hermeneutical sphere the parallel to this experience of the Thou is what we generally call historical consciousness. Historical consciousness knows about the otherness of the other, about the past in its otherness, just as the understanding of the Thou knows the Thou as a person. In the otherness of the past it seeks not the instantiation of a general law but something historically unique. By claiming to transcend its own conditionedness completely in knowing the other, it is involved in a false dialectical appearance, since it is actually seeking to master the past, as it were. This need not be accompanied by the speculative claim of a philosophy of world history; as an ideal of perfect enlightenment, it sheds light on the process of experience in the historical sciences, as we find, for example, in Dilthey. In my analysis of hermeneutical consciousness I have shown that the dialectical illusion which historical consciousness creates, and which corresponds to the dialectical illusion of experience perfected and replaced by knowledge, is the unattainable ideal of the Enlightenment. A person who believes he is free of prejudices, relying on the objectivity of his procedures and denying that he is himself conditioned by historical circumstances, experiences the power of the prejudices that unconsciously dominate him as a vis a tergo [“force from behind”]. A person who does not admit that he is dominated by prejudices will fail to see what manifests itself by their light.

[NOTE: This next point is enormously important] It is like the relation between I and Thou. A person who reflects himself out of the mutuality of such a relation changes this relationship and destroys its moral bond. A person who reflects himself out of a living relationship to tradition destroys the true meaning of this tradition in exactly the same way. In seeking to understand tradition historical consciousness must not rely on the critical method with which it approaches its sources, as if this preserved it from mixing in its own judgments and prejudices. It must, in fact, think within its own historicity. To be situated within a tradition does not limit the freedom of knowledge but makes it possible.

[NOTE: This is why one cannot learn about philosophy (or religion) from survey texts or survey courses. A student immerses himself in the philosophy and tries to see and apply its validity or its meaning is lost. It is not a matter of thoroughness, either. One can know an infinite number of facts about a philosophy or religion or the biographical facts of the people who founded them, without having the slightest essential knowledge of that philosophy or religion. Further, because of one’s erudition on the topic, one may be closed to knowing it any differently.]

[THIRD STAGE: Thou as a partner in a mutual relationship to which I and Thou belong; understanding as synesis, shared vision. Through dialogue, the other is “experienced” and known by way of a change of holistic understanding of the the world, mediated by the content of the dialogue.]

Knowing and recognizing this constitutes the third, and highest, type of hermeneutical experience: the openness to tradition characteristic of historically effected consciousness. It too has a real analogue in the I’s experience of the Thou. In human relations the important thing is, as we have seen, to experience the Thou truly as a Thou — i.e., not to overlook his claim but to let him really say something to us. Here is where openness belongs. But ultimately this openness does not exist only for the person who speaks; rather, anyone who listens is fundamentally open. Without such openness to one another there is no genuine human bond. Belonging together always also means being able to listen to one another. When two people understand each other, this does not mean that one person “understands” the other. [NOTE: the false intimacy of psychologism.] Similarly, “to hear and obey someone” does not mean simply that we do blindly what the other desires. We call such a person slavish. Openness to the other, then, involves recognizing that I myself must accept some things that are against me, even though no one else forces me to do so.

This is the parallel to the hermeneutical experience. I must allow tradition’s claim to validity, not in the sense of simply acknowledging the past in its otherness, but in such a way that it has something to say to me. This too calls for a fundamental sort of openness. Someone who is open to tradition in this way sees that historical consciousness is not really open at all, but rather, when it reads its texts “historically,” it has always thoroughly smoothed them out beforehand, so that the criteria of the historian’s own knowledge can never be called into question by tradition. Recall the naive mode of comparison that the historical approach generally engages in. The 25th “Lyceum Fragment” by Friedrich Schlegel reads: “The two basic principles of so-called historical criticism are the postulate of the commonplace and the axiom of familiarity. The postulate of the commonplace is that everything that is really great, good, and beautiful is improbable, for it is extraordinary or at least suspicious. The axiom of familiarity is that things must always have been just as they are for us, for things are naturally like this.” By contrast, historically effected consciousness rises above such naive comparisons and assimilations by letting itself experience tradition and by keeping itself open to the truth claim encountered in it. The hermeneutical consciousness culminates not in methodological sureness of itself, but in the same readiness for experience that distinguishes the experienced man from the man captivated by dogma. As we can now say more exactly in terms of the concept of experience, this readiness is what distinguishes historically effected consciousness.

*

We cannot regard the other as an object, nor can we regard the other as an alien subject with a separate but explicable experience of the world.

The other is someone who, through dialogue, might showing you something deeply unexpected and world-transfiguring. The other is one with whom the world can be shared in synesis.

Thou dialectic

Everything I do is guided by and serves one moral principle: a person is to be understood and related to as a Thou. A person is not to be  merely or even primarily understood as an object.

To attempt to understand another person objectively is to misunderstand what understanding a person is.

However, to attempt to understand another person without the help of objectivity is also to misunderstand what understanding a person is.

The scientific attitude and the romantic attitude misunderstand what understanding another person is.

*

The objectifying scientific attitude and the radically subjective attitude that characterizes romanticism together constitute an antithesis which has been steadily attacked and weakened over the last century and which (I am convinced) is breathing its last putrid breaths. (Nothing wrong with dramatizing things, ok?)

The two attitudes fail to see how an unconscious agreement (a shared determinate ignorance, a cognitive process that is unaware of its own operation) has drawn them into to an intractable conscious disagreement.

It is impossible to find agreement within the terms to which the two sides are unconsciously bound, and they are blind to the possibility of an alternative.

The only possible positions either side can conceive fall on a linear continuum of impure compromises between two pure and antithetical principles. Whatever is not the thesis or its antithesis is understood to be an equivocating ambithesis.

When someone trapped in this kind of ignorance wishes to be principled, he is “uncompromisingly” either-or, wholeheartedly throwing his support behind either the thesis or the antithesis. When he wants to appear politic, circumspect and socially wise it starts talking about “shades of gray”. (After all, you’re either an unrealistic purist or someone who understands the necessity of compromise and occasionally taking it up the tooter.)

At all times, however, all conceptions brainlessly obey the limiting terms of the underlying unconscious agreement, both in the schema of the theory and in practice.

The process of illuminating such forms of shared determinate ignorance, and in the process discovering new possibilities of resolving the issue that fall entirely outside the terms of the old disagreement is called dialectic. One discovers a point of view that opposes the old opposition and unites them in their common limitation, and opens up previously inconceivable options, often also outside the point of contention.

Here is how I’ve been drawing the structure of dialectic. White is the thesis, black is the antithesis and the red is the dialectic overcoming of the dichotomy, which is a new thesis:

dialectic

Two problems I’ve had with this diagram. 1) Once the old dichotomy fades from relevance a new one forms as a new antithesis forms against the new thesis, and the process repeats. This diagram accurately represents the delusion of the finality of the overcoming (to which some people believe Hegel succumbed), but the whole purpose of dialectic is to overcome this delusion, so the representation must be regarded not as a feature, but a bug. There is no indication that the process will continue, and this indication is essential. 2) Thesis and antithesis are not equal. A fundamentalist and an atheist argue over the existence of a ludicrously misconceived “God”… both are ignorant of other possible conceptions, but it is far more respectable to disagree with a fundamentalist than to be one. The atheist is philosophically superior to the fundamentalist, but both are philosophically inferior to someone who knows other possibilities of knowing God. And of the two, the atheist is closer to that realization than the fundamentalist who mistakes himself for religious and is therefore more closed to lines of questioning that can overcome his ignorance. (AND! — by the way, the limitation of both is that they have failed to grasp the being of Thou, which closes them off not only to the being of God, but also to the being of other people, which brings us back to my original point.) So, the thesis, though not true enough, does at least bear some resemblance to the larger truth, where the antithesis is simply a negative indication: this resemblance is not enough.

For these reasons, from now on, at least until I know better, I am going to draw the structure of the dialectic differently, on the golden section, and also I’m going to draw the antithesis as gold because I like how that looks:

Golden Dialectic

*

But what is the determinate ignorance shared by scientism and romanticism? Neither recognizes the role of tradition in selfhood. I’m sure I’ll have more to say on this soon.

Meanwhile, here’s something to think about:

The only way to know an Other as Other — as Thou — is to enter into dialogue and consequently come to see the world differently.

Dialogue -> Metanoia -> Synesis -> Tradition -> Community