Monday, 12 June 2017

The Golden Mean: Virtue, Negation and The Real

by Alan Ford

The Golden Mean, the Middle Way etc., in its many forms seems as ancient as philosophy itself. For western philosophy Aristotle, in his Nicomachean Ethics, is the luminous example, but Plato and Socrates had said similar things before, and Daedalus had told Icarus to ‘fly the middle course’ between the sea spray and the heat of the sun. The Buddha taught the Middle Way, Confucius taught that excess is like deficiency, Thomas Aquinas argued that virtue observes the mean, and the Koran teaches the Middle Way too: ‘We have made you a balanced, moderate nation’.
It is easy to pick holes in this, especially if one hasn’t read any of the above works, but it is right that the ‘golden mean fallacy’ should be elicited when it is misinterpreted as meaning that one should always seek a compromise, no matter what. This is obvious if one thinks that The Mean means accepting as right and virtuous a compromise between the truth and a blatant lie. Yet this is an epistemological argument and, for instance, Aristotle is arguing about ethical virtues, propensities to act in virtuous ways, in short about character, identity. An oft-quoted example from Aristotle is that courage is a virtue, but an excess of this would lead to recklessness, while a deficiency would produce cowardice: just like Confucius’ notion that excess is like deficiency. I shall show how this happens.
This structure, of too much of a virtue on one hand and too little on the other, in order to describe a virtuous identity, can be transformed and illuminated by examining Kierkegaard’s analysis of despair in his The Sickness Unto Death,(1) where the sickness is at not being able to become oneself. He analyses this in two broad forms: a) where he describes the ‘factors’ from which a self is composed: and b) from the point of view of consciousness. The former describes the parameters of the self from which we begin, (genetic makeup etc.), our raw individual potential, and, perhaps, our initial environment. Here we are pre-cognitive beings, potential persons, with rudimentary minds and bodies: a mere “negative unity”.(2)
It is only when true cognitive consciousness dawns that we can begin to become persons, and only then can choice and responsibility for oneself arise: when the self begins to be aware of the Other and consequently of itself.

So, to examine despair as viewed under these factors of the synthesis.
The factors of this synthesis of the self are, according to Kierkegaard, the opposing notions of Infinitude/Finitude, Possibility/Necessity. The self can lose itself in pursuit of one side of these syntheses. But we’ll talk in terms of Freedom and Necessity, for brevity and clarity’s sake. You will notice that, as in Aristotle’s analysis above, the faults in identity are couched in terms of too much and too little, but Kierkegaard takes these further.
The despair of too much freedom is where necessity is suppressed in a fantastic bid for freedom, where action in the real world is put on hold, where contemplation becomes lost in the infinitude of thought and logical possibility, where imagination reigns and facts are evaded. Feelings become lost in great abstractions, like ‘love of the masses’, the perfectibility of man etc. The only castles ever built are in the air. For if one is totally free, a possibility only within imagination, one cannot be free, for freedom depends on action, and one cannot act if there is no resistance, which this ploy of escape into ‘freedom’ is designed to avoid. I can jump only because the floor resists me. Freedom, like action is not an abstract absolute. Outside action for some worthwhile and realisable scheme knowledge becomes an expansion of itself, or thought doing no work, as Wittgenstein once put it.
In the opposite kind of despair, despair of too much necessity, (too little freedom) a person might avoid becoming a person in losing himself in everyday ‘reality’, suppressing imagination and thus possibility. He merges with the crowd as if a thing with no freedom and hence no responsibility to act as a person, a perfect citizen in a totalitarian state, fitting neatly into the party machine, paradoxically free from the responsibility to act as a person. Above we saw expansion into impotence and oblivion, here we see contraction into narrow-mindedness and meanness of spirit. Yet both obey a paradoxical dialectic where too much freedom flips into no freedom, since freedom depends on the ability to act to a purpose; and too much necessity flips into freedom from responsibility by evading action. Both in fact evade the real. For one all is possible, for the other nothing is possible: which comes to the same thing. If all is possible, then nothing is possible.
This dialectic of the detached self is spelled out in Wittgenstein’s Tractatus (3) at 5.64 where he writes:

Here it can be seen that solipsism, when its implications are followed out strictly, coincides with pure realism. The self of philosophy shrinks to a point without extension, and there remains the reality co-ordinated with it.

But this must also operate in the opposite direction since there is no identity, no sense of self that could prevent this! A being without identity is in the state as illustrated in these two ‘equations’. Too much freedom and too much necessity ends in deep flaws in personhood and identity, and 5.64 shows the impossibility of identity if based on mere subjectivity and objectivity, that seemingly fundamental distinction upon which Descartes placed true knowledge and the nature of the self, spawning the mind-body, fact-value problems. We shall return to these after we examine despair from the point of view of consciousness.

*       *       *
But then for Kierkegaard :

…despair must be viewed under the category of consciousness: the question whether despair is conscious or not, determines the qualitative difference between despair and despair. (4)

Consciousness is involved in the notion of despair, although the person involved need not be conscious of his despair. He goes on:
Generally speaking, consciousness, i.e. consciousness of self is the decisive criterion of self. The more conscious, the more self, the more consciousness the more will, and the more will the more self. (5)
So, after the initial pre-reflexive synthesis, where the person is merely casually aware of the Other, he becomes aware of himself. He is capable of being something more than an organism. This comes through cognitive consciousness, where the person becomes intentional and therefore capable of real action, with a real self in a real world.
For Kierkegaard there are several categories of despair under the aspect of consciousness, which is simplified here, beginning with despair that is unconscious of despair, through consciousness that is conscious of despair and in which there is both despair at avoiding responsibility of becoming oneself, and one in which despair wills despairingly to be itself. The last, the ‘highest’ form and the most dangerous is ‘the despair of defiance’, on which we shall concentrate in a moment. Yet the model remains the same: from the virtually unconscious to those highly conscious of despair. Those feebly conscious can be seen as those who evade, retreat from the real: Aristotle’s deficient side of virtue. Those highly conscious can be seen as excessive, who, in their egotism, defy the real. Both are forms of unreality and irresponsibility.
Fully conscious despair consists of two possible outcomes.

A)    One might become aware of one’s self in all one’s freedom, finitude and necessity, relating to oneself but also to that infinitely greater context that Kierkegaard calls “the power that posits me”. This might be likened to ‘maturity’, or the awareness of one’s real faults and virtues, where one comes to terms with the real. For Kierkegaard the power that posits is God, but to avoid the thickets of theology I would suggest this power could also be seen as the personal and cultural contexts of the person in relationships with others. Yet, for Kierkegaard, other persons as such seem forgotten.
B)    The Despair of Defiance: the highest but most extreme form of despair, which refuses to come to terms with the real.  

The Despair of Defiance relates itself to itself in the most merciless way, but refuses to relate itself to the power that posits it: the personal and impersonal other (or God). The enterprise of self-knowledge is taken on but dependence is refused, the ego is inflated and pride becomes devilish!
So, such a person although capable of relating to himself, refuses to lose himself in his essential dependence upon the power that posits, however understood. It’s so close to an identity, but an abuse of it, and thus infinitely remote from it. He relates to himself but refuse relationship to the other, the real, in the pride of his inflated ego.
The self now becomes an abstraction, unable to love, bereft of boundaries that the other would provide. It moves into infinite freedom and possibility: the illusion of Lucifer at the Fall. The arrogance is devilish, the consequent charisma seductive!
Kierkegaard adds:

He is not willing to attire himself in himself, nor to see his task in the self given him; by the aid of being the infinite form he wills to construct it himself”. (6)

Although searching for significance, despite his ‘magnificence’, and because of his detachment, he is fundamentally lacking seriousness, since meaning, seriousness, is dependent on a context, a form of life that makes sense of action, and must in large part be other than one’s self.
Since all is possible for this self, nothing is possible, for:

…just at the instant when it seems to be nearest to having the fabric finished it can arbitrarily resolve the whole thing into nothing. (7)

The ultimate indignity for such despairers is that God’s world, or the Other, is not as perfect as his abstract one, which he sees as a great injustice. He clings to his hurt so he can put God/the Other in the wrong: he plunges, Satan-like, from the dizzy heights of infinite possibility, to the depths of necessity. Since he can’t be God, he will put existence in the wrong, making God an unjust tyrant or life a mistake, even evil. In this way he still remains special: this pain marks him out. To relinquish it:

… might rid him of his … infinite advantage over other men…

He clings to it:

… in order with this torment to protest against the whole of existence. (8)

One thing is clear, both those who evade the real and those who feel superior to it are morally wanting.

*       *       *
What now seems striking is that these two kinds of escape from reality have the same form as the seemingly fundamental, Cartesian, distinction between subject and object, with the infinite self as the former, and those bound in necessity the latter, resulting in the necessary instability remarked upon at Tractatus 5.64. Too much necessity (deficiency) escapes responsibility by becoming like a thing with no freedom: ‘I was only following orders’, or ‘it’s my genes that made me a murderer’ etc. Too much possibility (excess) escapes into vast possibility and when the other refuses to conform to this, responsibility is projected on an evil, meaningless world ruled by a wicked demiurge, ending in millenarian groups like the Cathars, who saw themselves as too pure for this world (9), Nazi Germany, for a while, fell into this dialectic without a synthesis when Hitler became the all-knowing Subject to the people’s Collectivist Object, The former, true to type, found the German people wanting because they’d failed him. Both sides were in retreat from the real: that middle way where identity can separate fantasy from reality.
But how can these ungovernable reversals be checked? By creating a more adequate theory of the identity of the self. But, since this paper is too long already, we shall have to await another posting.

Notes
(1) Soren Kierkegaard, Fear and Trembling & Sickness Unto Death, translated by W. Lowrie. (Princeton University Press 1968).
(2) Ibid p146
(3) Ludwig Wittgenstein, Tractatus-Logico-Philosophicus, (Routledge & Keegan Paul, 1961).
(4) Kierkegaard op cit. 162.
(5) Ibid.
(6) Ibid 202.
(7) Ibid 203.
(8) Ibid 206.
(9) Norman Cohn The Pursuit of the Millennium (Paladin 1970)

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