briefly about "Mortality" by Christopher Hitchens

British-American author and public intellectual Christopher Hitchens was diagnosed with cancer in the summer of 2010 and died December 2011. Mortality is his final work, a meandering collection of essays penned during his painful physical decline. Mentally and emotionally, however, judging by this book, Hitchens stayed the picture of health. In these pages he imparts the experience of dying slowly, offers up a couple memories and lessons learned, and renews his atheism. Hitchens subtly urges us to appreciate health--our speaking voice, in particular. And, about that health, he aims to disabuse us of the idea that what doesn't kill us makes us stronger. This last point is not to say that Hitchens regrets his steady flow of cigarettes, scotch, wine, and the late nights he spent with friends; it just seems that life--his especially--necessitates many loosely calculated risks. In the way of an end-of-life perspective, he writes,

So we are left with something quite unusual in the annals of unsentimental approaches to extinction: not the wish to die with dignity but the desire to have died.

The lyrics to "Polar Opposites"

Polar opposites don't push away.
It's the same on the weekends as the rest of the days.
And I know I should go, but I'll probably stay.
And that's all you can do about some things.

I'm trying, I'm trying to drink away
the part of the day that I cannot sleep away.
I'm trying, I'm trying to drink away
the part of the day that I cannot sleep away.

Two one-eyed dogs, they're looking at stereos.
Hi-fi gods try so hard to make their cars low to the ground.
These vibrations oil it's teeth.
Primer gray is the color when you're done dying.

I'm trying, I'm trying to drink away
the part of the day that I cannot sleep away.
I'm trying, I'm trying to drink away
the part of the day that I cannot sleep away.

"Dogs"

Who was born in a house full of pain?
Who was trained not to spit in the fan?
Who was told what to do by the man?
Who was broken by trained personnel?
Who was fitted with collar and chain?
Who was given a pat on the back?
Who was breaking away from the pack?
Who was only a stranger at home?
Who was ground down in the end?
Who was found dead on the phone?

Who was dragged down by the stone.

about "The Courage of Truth" by Michel Foucault

This is another installment in the newly published series of lectures (and lecture notes) given by Michel Foucault at the Collège de France. This one, however, was the last one he gave there before dying. These lectures were recorded during February and March, 1984. He died June 25, 1984.

This book is subtitled "The Government of Self and Others II" because it picks up where his previous string of lectures, "The Government of Self and Others" (published in this same series by Picador), left off. So we begin again with the concept of parrhesia: free-spokeness, or, defined more emphatically, truth-telling. A few high-profile truth-tellers, just to give you an idea, might include Americans Mark Twain or Will Rogers (more recently, some people might include Jon Stewart). But rather than seeing parrhesia in merely the presence of a few pop culture figures, Foucault drills the concept of parrhesia to mine for its broader, deeper significance and implications.

In Foucault's late lectures, he is imparting an ontology of true discourses. First, "The Government of Self and Others" established parrhesia as originally a political notion. But here, through Foucault's reading of Plato (on Socrates) and his study of Cynicism, it expands into philosophy.

Foucault established parrhesia as a necessary component in effective democracies; the best political system will be the one run by virtuous men. In "The Courage of Truth," parrhesia differentiates the man, the leader, from the masses. A leader's truth-telling not only shows his moral/ethical worth, it also is part of the speaker's self conception. So, as established in ancient philosophy, the best political system is run by virtuous men who can uncork the discourse of truth. In this analysis, Foucault is running the technologies of power (and government), knowledge, and subject formation through the gauntlet. These things are intertwined in ancient philosophy, and so they are in most of Foucault's texts.

This lecture's opening focuses on Plato's "Apology," the story of Socrates death, and "Leches," a work exploring courage. With these works, we first find that parrhesia and indeed all of ancient ethics revolve around the care of the self (i.e., self development, self government, self discipline, etc.). Furthermore, parrhesia is bound up in one's existence and formation of self. The latter portions of "The Courage of Truth" examine the Cynics--a people who denied themselves even basic comforts to strip away any artifice that might stand in the way of Truth. This drastic lifestyle eventually showed people that there was another life: an other life, or, the other life (varies by interpreted experience).

Christianity blended the Platonic concept of care of self--the work of purifying the soul ahead of its eventually authentic existence in another world--with the Cynics' quest to defy "temporal customs" in search of basic values.

So you take the two parts of "The Courage of Truth"--the way truth-telling separates the speaker from the masses and the philsophic introduction of the possibility of the other (better) life promised by the Cynics and their successors--and you find that, since the dawn of Western philosophy with the Ancients, the hallmark of the True is Otherness: that which makes a difference and opens the possibility of another reality. This, according to Michael Foucault, is what philosophy is, what it does. There is no establishment of the truth without an essential position of otherness; the truth is never the same; there can be truth only in the form of the other world and the other life.

This is a poignant book; the editor's notes go to lengths to drive this home; Foucault, knowing death would come soon, like Socrates, practiced philosophy and kept his eye on Truth until the end.

Loss

Philip Seymour Hoffman, 1967-2014

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Heiligenstadt Testament

In 1802, Beethoven's doctor prescribed a stay at Heiligenstadt, a small village north of Vienna. The young composer was in crisis: his relationship with his beloved Giullieta Guicciardi was dying, and his hearing had been deteriorating for six years. His troubles led him to live a lonely, solitary life far away from people that he feared already misunderstood his aloofness for insolence. In October of that year, Beethoven wrote of his despair and isolating deafness to his brothers Carl and Johann; he also wrote of his desire to persevere and pursue his art. Writing desperately, he rejects suicide and soon starts to work on Symphony No. 3, Eroica. Beethoven hid this pseudo-legal letter with his private papers, so it was not discovered in Beethoven’s room in March 1827, after his death. This letter is now known as the Heiligenstadt Testament.

For my brothers Carl and [Johann] Beethoven

Oh you men who think or say that I am malevolent, stubborn, or misanthropic, how greatly do you wrong me? You do not know the secret cause which makes me seem that way to you. From childhood on, my heart and soul have been full of the tender feeling of goodwill, and I was ever inclined to accomplish great things. But, think that for six years now I have been hopelessly afflicted, made worse by senseless physicians, from year to year deceived with hopes of improvement, finally compelled to face the prospect of a lasting malady (whose cure will take years or, perhaps, be impossible). Though born with a fiery, active temperament, even susceptible to the diversions of society, I was soon compelled to withdraw myself, to live life alone. If at times I tried to forget all this, oh how harshly I was I flung back by the doubly sad experience of my bad hearing. Yet it was impossible for me to say to people, "Speak louder, shout, for I am deaf." Ah, how could I possibly admit an infirmity in the one sense which ought to be more perfect in me than others, a sense which I once possessed in the highest perfection, a perfection such as few in my profession enjoy or ever have enjoyed. Oh I cannot do it; therefore forgive me when you see me draw back when I would have gladly mingled with you.

My misfortune is doubly painful to me because I am bound to be misunderstood; for me there can be no relaxation with my fellow men, no refined conversations, no mutual exchange of ideas. I must live almost alone, like one who has been banished; I can mix with society only as much as true necessity demands. If I approach near to people a hot terror seizes upon me, and I fear being exposed to the danger that my condition might be noticed. Thus it has been during the last six months which I have spent in the country. By ordering me to spare my hearing as much as possible, my intelligent doctor almost fell in with my own present frame of mind, though sometimes I ran counter to it by yielding to my desire for companionship. But what a humiliation for me when someone standing next to me heard a flute in the distance and I heard nothing, or someone standing next to me heard a flute in the distance and I heard nothing, or someone heard a shepherd singing and again I heard nothing. Such incidents drove me almost to despair; a little more of that and I would have ended me life--it was only my art that held me back. Ah, it seemed to me impossible to leave the world until I had brought forth all that I felt was within me. So I endured this wretched existence--truly wretched for so susceptible a body, which can be thrown by a sudden change from the best condition to the very worst. Patience, they say, is what I must now choose for my guide, and I have done so--I hope my determination will remain firm to endure until it pleases the inexorable Parcae to break the thread. Perhaps I shall get better, perhaps not; I am ready. Forced to become a philosopher already in my twenty-eighth year, oh it is not easy, and for the artist much more difficult than for anyone else. "Divine one, thou seest me inmost soul thou knowest that therein dwells the love of mankind and the desire to do good." Oh fellow men, when at some point you read this, consider then that you have done me an injustice; someone who has had misfortune man console himself to find a similar case to his, who despite all the limitations of Nature nevertheless did everything within his powers to become accepted among worthy artists and men. You, my brothers Carl and [Johann], as soon as I am dead, if Dr. Schmidt is still alive, ask him in my name to describe my malady, and attach this written documentation to his account of my illness so that so far as it possible at least the world may become reconciled to me after my death.

At the same time, I declare you two to be the heirs to my small fortune (if so it can be called); divide it fairly; bear with and help each other. What injury you have done me you know was long ago forgiven. To you, brother Carl, I give special thanks for the attachment you have shown me of late. It is my wish that you may have a better and freer life than I have had. Recommend virtue to your children; it alone, not money, can make them happy. I speak from experience; this was what upheld me in time of misery. Thanks to it and to my art, I did not end my life by suicide. Farewell and love each other--I thank all my friends, particularly Prince Lichnowsky's and Professor Schmidt--I would like the instruments from Prince L. to be preserved by one of you, but not to be the cause of strife between you, and as soon as they can serve you a better purpose, then sell them. How happy I shall be if can still be helpful to you in my grave--so be it. With joy I hasten to meed death. If it comes before I have had the chance to develop all my artistic capacities, it will still be coming too soon despite my harsh fate, and I should probably wish it later--yet even so I should be happy, for would it not free me from a state of endless suffering? Come when thou wilt, I shall meed thee bravely. Farewell and do not wholly forget me when I am dead; I deserve this from you, for during my lifetime I was thinking of you often and of ways to make you happy--please be so.

Ludwig van Beethoven

Heiligenstadt,
October 6th, 1802

Note:
(translation)

Kings Of Convenience, "I'd Rather Dance With You"

"Young Folks" by Peter Bjorn & John

If i told you things I did before,
told you how i used to be,
would you go along with someone like me?
If you knew my story word for word,
had all of my history,
would you go along with someone like me?


I did before and had my share;
it didn't lead nowhere.
I would go along with someone like you.
It doesn't matter what you did,
who you were hanging with.
We could stick around and see this night through.


And we don't care about the young folks
talkin' 'bout the young style
And we don't care about the old folks,
talkin' 'bout the old style, too.
And we don't care about their own faults;
talkin' 'bout our own style.
All we care 'bout is talking--
talking only me and you.


Usually, when things have gone this far,
people tend to disappear.

No one will surprise me unless you do.


I can tell there's something goin' on,
hours seems to disappear.

Everyone is leaving; I'm still with you.

It doesn't matter what we do,
where we are going, too.
We can stick around and see this night through.

And we don't care about the young folks,
talkin' 'bout the young style.
And we don't care about the old folks,
talkin' 'bout the old style, too.
And we don't care about their own faults;
talkin' 'bout our own style.
All we care 'bout is talking,
talking only me and you.


And we don't care about the young folks,
talkin' 'bout the young style.
And we don't care about the old folks,
talkin' 'bout the old style, too.
And we don't care about their own faults;
talkin' 'bout our own style.
All we care 'bout is talking,
talking only me and you--
talking only me and you.

Talking only me and you.
Talking only me and you.

quickly, on Charles Baudelaire

French poet, essayist, and critic Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) fits in between the Romantics and the Modernists--he's actually credited as the first to refer to modernity as a movement and condition of life in the increasingly urbanized world. Though still considered hugely influential, Baudelaire is not in style today.

As a Romantic, he's inspired by rich emotions, gives priority to aesthetics and nature, and--this makes him tricky to read--makes allusions to classical, medieval, and exotic stories, all while revolting against industrialization. But as a Modernist, he aimed to say and represent something about his time and defy orthodoxy. For this, he became a bit of a lightening rod, slapped with labels of indecency in his life and work. He lived hard and died at 46.

I first read Artificial Paradises, a sort of meditation on the effects of wine, hashish, and opium--all substances he indulged in until near his death, and perhaps taken in some part to medicate himself while suffering gonorrhea and syphilis. This text is neither the boasting of a stoned teenager nor the cautioning of a burnout; no, it reads like a devout aristocrat--which Baudelaire was--sunning himself in his talent for writing prose while recording for posterity a slice of his life and the strength of his intellect, hopefully to the offense of the reader.

Next I read two of his books of petry, The Flowers of Evil and Paris Spleen (combined in one volume by BOA Editions, Ltd.). The Flowers of Evil is Baudelaire's best-known work; here he glides beautifully over a range of subjects. And while he can summon fine porcelain words to capture the mood that strikes on a particular lovely evening, he can also express a healthy sense of disgust for things, and this I enjoy very much. The works in Paris Spleen are considered prose-poems, which are basically short, stream-of-conscious vignettes and random blurbs.

Artificial Paradises I can take or leave, but the The Flowers of Evil and Paris Spleen collections proved enjoyable, though only after a couple evenings spent flipping through them over again.

Notes:
(from The Flowers of Evil)

"The Grateful Dead"
by Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867)

Somewhere, in a country lush and fat with snails,
I wish that I might myself a narrow grave
Where my old bones, at leisure, could stretch out a while
And sleep, oblivious like sharks beneath the wave.

Last wills and testaments I hate, and tombs I hate;

And rather than implore the world to weep for me,
While I'm still living I'd be happy to invite
The crows to drain my blood from my carcass's debris.

O worms! black comrades without ears or even eyes,
Behold, there comes to you a free and joyful prize;
You philosophic wastrels, children of putrescence:

Within my ruins carry on without regret,
And tell me what is still to come, what novel torments
For this, my soulless corpse, this dead among the dead!

(from Paris Spleen)

"Get Drunk"
by Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867)

Always be drunk. That's it! The great imperative! In order not to feel Time's horrid fardel bruise your shoulders, grinding you into the earth, get drunk and stay that way.

On What? Wine, poetry, virtue, whatever. But get drunk.

And if you sometimes happen to wake up on the porches of a palace, in the green grass of a ditch, in the dismal loneliness of your own room your drunkenness gone or disappearing, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, ask everything that flees, everything that groans or rolls or sings, everything that speaks, ask what time it is; and the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock will answer you: "Time to get drunk! Don't be martyred slaves of Time, get drunk forever! Get drunk! Stay drunk! On Wine, poetry, virtue, whatever."

"Concubine/Fault and Fracture" by Converge

something about the documentary film "Into the Abyss" by Werner Herzog

In his review of "Into the Abyss," Roger Ebert starts off with this:

"Into the Abyss" may be the saddest film Werner Herzog has ever made. It regards a group of miserable lives, and in finding a few faint glimmers of hope only underlines the sadness.

Well said. And here, at this cross-stitch of crime and poverty, the value of life runs threadbare.

Herzog documents the people and events surrounding a triple homicide in the small city of Conroe, Texas. The crime is violent and pointless, the sentences inconsistent and accidental. We hear from the convicted suspects, the families, investigators, and prison staff. With this crowd, Herzog has stumbled into a special kind of poor--a subculture of white, angry desperation that doesn't seem to know any other way. Herzog's approach is distanced, and he rations his usual pithy but insightful commentary.

When I think of an abyss, I think of a space in which blackness persists where the eye looks for light. The film's most glaring abyss is death row inmate Michael Perry: Seeing his youthful face, we expect--almost demand--him to show us something redeeming, something innocent. But it never comes. He is incapable probably of redemption or innocence.

But an abyss is also marked by its limitlessness, and even in this senseless loss, the victims' family attempts to salvage something. And another glimmer of hope (for those opposed to capital punishment) comes from a Death Row guard's turn away from death in favor of a universal right to life.

This is a very fine documentary, an effective and subtly powerful example of the form. Through Herzog's lens, overarching pointlessness and defeat lie naked. Presented with the abyss of the human soul, we find two thoughts juxtaposed: (1) No one has the right to take a life, and (2) some people don't deserve to live. There is no answer. Just traces of a spirit deeply buried within flaws and sad stories.

Decembers

about Heidegger's "Being and Time"

Martin Heidegger is known for his published work in existential, ontological, and phenomenological philosophy.  He consistently argued that Western philosophy had gone astray since the Greeks' initial exploration of the nature of being. Heidegger sought to return us to everyday being, re-examining it to rediscover it.

His best-known book, Being and Time, is considered one of the most important philosophical works of the 20th century. To learn more about Heidegger, I read the following:

• Heidegger: An Introduction by Richard Polt
• A Commentary on Heidegger's "Being and Time" by Michael Gelven
• Being and Time by Martin Heidegger

Being and Time is reputedly difficult to read and understand because of the subject matter and because Heidegger's writing style, terminology, vocabulary, and personal creativity are so unconventional. Because Heidegger has such a reputation, I sought guidance from Richard Polt's introduction and Michael Gelven's commentary. First I read Polt, then Gelven and Heidegger's Being and Time at the same time.

Heidegger: An Introduction by Richard Polt

Richard Polt's introduction is a very high-level glance at Heidegger's philosophy. Polt begins by paraphrasing some of the German philosopher's big questions: What is being? What is the meaning of being? What is the being of abstract things, and how is abstract being different from ours? Don't expect big answers from Polt.

Polt recounts Heidegger's view that we are profoundly historical, so we're in a different philosophical time from the Greeks, which means we have different understandings and ways of conceiving. Heidegger rejects any claim that being is projected or constructed. Being is a complicated phenomenon we actually live, and we live different modes of being at various times. The modes Heidegger looks for are not perceived through the senses. No, they are intuited. For example, imagine a green apple. The question of being does not concern the color itself, but the mode of existence in which a thing is being colored. Polt moves around Heidegger's concept of being without going into any depth.

In Being and Time, Polt says, Heidegger is at least partially attempting to understand how theoretical truth is rooted in our lived existence; Heidegger is rooting an ontological theory of being out of a phenomenological examination of living. Polt offers quick takes of Being and Time but his summaries, brief and easily read though they are, offer very little of the substance of the book.

Michael Gelven's commentary and Heidegger's Being and Time

Gelven opens his commentary with a philosophical point of reference for the reader: Heidegger, Gelven explains, worked contrary to neo-Kantians (however, he was in the Kantian tradition). This is important in that neo-Kantians practiced a science-centered philosophy whereas Heidegger is using a phenomenological examination of real life for ontological ends. Now, Being and Time.

Whether or not we exist is not a question for Heidegger. At least, not in Being and Time. We know we exist. But what does it mean to be? We sense our own being. Perhaps we know of it implicitly, but seem unable to articulate what we mean when we say, I exist. Heidegger wants to make explicit that vague sense we have of being, and perhaps answer some unasked questions in the process (Is the world a reality that we're just a part of? Or are we central to our own story?). The fact of Being and the meaning of Being are the same thing.

Heidegger disagrees with modern philosophical traditions that hold being as essentially a meaningless term, so broad as to encompass everything and so nothing. There is more to be said of being than that it is merely self-evident. But this inquiry is not merely a task for Science because ontology is even more fundamental than anything within Science's purview. Being scientific is merely a mode of being (in which you, for example, study things that can be verified). Science presupposes Being. So, this is a task for philosophy. And, more specifically, it is a task for ontology. This is important: ontology comes before metaphysics, which investigates reality and asks what is. Ontology is asking what is is.

Quickly, Heidegger singles out our Being, human Being, as unique because our Being is the being which can consider and look after its own being. And he calls our Being Dasein. Only Dasein can do this. We can also consider other selves, and have a sense of the presence of other selves; to this end, we are not completely separate from others.

Heidegger breaks human Being down into its most basic parts, which he calls existentials. These parts are a priori--they are always there no matter what experience you have. Being in the world is probably about as basic as it gets. It is the first and most general awareness we have. We are always more or less aware of being in a world and relating to our surroundings; when we conceive of ourselves, we do so with some reference to time and space. And this worldly reference precedes all knowledge, for there must be a world in which objects of knowledge can occur and be encountered, and in which cause and effect can occur. The world is already there when we start down the path of metaphysics.

Our most basic relationship with this world is that we use it. We relate to the world almost always with ends in mind. The possible ends, our possibilities, precede any actuality (possibility precedes actuality). This using-the-world is what Heidegger calls ready-to-hand, and it is another crucial existential. Consider: We use the doorknob to open the door (so that we may pass through (and go get in the car (and drive to the store (to buy groceries for dinner))); we do not encounter the doorknob as an entity with its own thing-hood unless we are purposefully deliberating and complicating our world, imposing data on it. And even doing nothing is a way of relating to the world.

If you're bored out of your mind and just lie in bed, you're doing something because you have to be doing something; you are constantly making the present. Our lived existence is the possibilities before us, the next present (or the hoped-for present, two days from now); what you're doing now is for what you will have done, will own or part with, or will be doing in the future. The world is a future world for us. Our understanding allows us to (implicitly) understand that we have possibilities and act on those possibilities. So possibilities--the various ways in which we can exist--allow us all our thinkings and doings. What already is the case does not hold us back. (But we can create rules or templates of thinking that in turn limit us; for example, the rules of reasoning comes afterwards, and those rules prevent us from being able to imagine a circular triangle. Our cognitive power precedes reason, so reason is not a priori.) Being-able-to-be is part of the structure of our being.

This part is key: The experience we have being in the world, considering and working through possibilities is the stuff of being human. So Dasein--our Being--is living and thinking possibilities that are ways of relating to the world in which we have been thrown and about which we have a disposition toward. This inevitable and unavoidable disposition we have toward the world (of possibles) manifests in us what Heidegger calls Care. Care, in Heidegger's philosophy, unifies all the existentials. Care is the Being of Dasein. To care is to be ahead of yourself already involved with the world.

So all the above refers to ways of Being, but not to the meaning of Being. The meaning becomes clearer when we consider death.

Death shows us that not-being is possible. Furthermore, only the possibility of death has meaning; the actuality of death does not. The possibility of not-being--which is more philosophically important than the eventually of our not-being--reveals our temporality, which triggers an awareness of time.

So, Dasein's Being is Care; and the meaning of Care is temporality, or time. Heidegger is not asking, What is time? because that is a metaphysical question; instead, he is asking, What does it mean to be in time? Time springs from our temporality. We can only care because there is a future. And the future is not something arrived at; it is always future. Same goes for the past. The past is always past. To put it in grammatical form, you did not drive to work this morning; you are having-been-driving-to-work this morning, and therein is the meaning of the past. And the future is always the possibilities you are always toward. I am as coming toward. The present is making present, it is what you are doing. Time is not a series of nows; it all happens now. The past is meaningful because it exists. Had it passed us somehow, it would not exist, and would be meaningless. Same for the future. The meaning of the past (or any time) is not in the memory; it comes from the very conception we have of time. All this means that the content of being is mostly in the future, not in the present.

Heidegger goes to lengths to tie time back to all the existentials (and for this reason, his philosophy in "Being and Time" is sort of circular, which is by design. Our vague intuitions about Being make more sense the more you circle back and go through it all again.) But Being and Time was never really finished. So this is where we end.


Summary

Heidegger says sometime after the Greeks, the enterprise of philosophy veered off the path. All the work on metaphysics--the mind/body problem, perception and reality and what is really here--was sort of in vain. The problem is that no one ever figured out what is is. When you ask, What is?, you don't really know what is means. What does it mean to be?

Heidegger tries to tackle this question in Being and Time.

Because we probably can't get at what the being of a tree is, or what the being of a hammer is, or the being or anything besides ourselves, Heidegger focuses his inquiry on our Being, something he calls Dasein.

Now, because we do veer philosophically towards metaphysics--asking, What is?--we must have at least an intuitive understanding of being, of what is is. But before Heidegger gets at what it means to be, he accounts for all the ways we have of Being. To root out what is essential, Heidegger isolates the ways of Being that are the most basic. There are many basic ways of Being that each have their own significance. To criminally oversimply, our most basic ways of Being are being-in-the-world and ready-at-hand.

Our being-in-the-world is just our here-ness amid all this context. Our most basic way of relating to the world is to use it. What we use, we use before we posit and speculate on their thingness. And what we do stems from the fact that we have possibilities in which having already done things is possible. We have a disposition toward our surroundings and life and future. Essentially, we care. So, Being is Care. And the meaning of Care is Time, or temporality. The possibility of our own deaths shows us the way to this meaning.

This isn't revelatory, and having understood Being and Time (if that is fully possible) won't bring you enlightenment. Probably the wonder of the book is how Heidegger conceives the structure of Being and time as we live them, and how he dives beneath all the philosophy that had been done before him.

Notes

• Like Kant, Heidegger believed our way of questioning defines our understanding.

• And, interestingly, Heidegger says that reality is based on Care; reality is a mode of caring, a way of relating to the world. This means that reality is not the same thing as real things. Furthermore, truth is dependent upon our Being (Dasein); truth is not the correspondence of a proposition with reality, because those come after Being. For Heidegger, truth is when something shows itself to Dasein; truth refers to Dasein, not to things and propositions. (Heidegger's concept of truth is very Greek. His affinity for the ancient Greek philosophy is part of what makes him so difficult to read; he uses Greek words, investigates their possible meanings, and does some free-associating with the language. His affinity for the Greeks is also key to his association with the Nazis. Heidegger was a hardcore nationalist, and believed the Germans were the inheritors of Greek greatness, to put it one way.)

• Heidegger's privileging of possibilities over actualities seems to be the key to the brand of Existentialist philosophy that grew after Heidegger through Camus and Sartre, among others. For Heidegger and his successors, authenticity relates to Freedom, and Freedom to possibility. We almost naturally try to limit our choices because Freedom feels like a burden. Embracing Freedom and all the responsibility and unknowns that come with is to live authentically. To this end, feeling guilt is authentic. When we focus on actualities and facts and engage in small talk or pursue idle curiosity, we are being inauthentic. When we consider the possibilities of your lives and of not-being, we are authentic. So, if you always do what you are told and only care about what you already have, you would be inauthentic; you are more fully engaged with Being if you can consider possibilities. (Heidegger seems to bundle some value judgements in his use of authenticity, but these are not huge moral condemnations, I gather.)  Differentiating between authentic and inauthentic Being is a big part of Being and Time. I don't find it very attractive or even helpful to investigating Being, so I shortchange it here even more than I do the rest of Being and Time.

• Care is associated with another important existential called state of mind. Facts and reality influence one's state of mind. Although state of mind is tied to the actual, it is a part of both authentic and inauthentic existence because understanding the actual allows us to consider possibilities. State of mind is how and why the world matters to Dasein, it's why we care.

• History is about Dasein's worlds. Not the fact-hood of past events and people.

"You and Me"

Notes:
I tell you, baby, you're just enough for me.

The Muppet Show with Alice Cooper

Part 1:

 

Part 2:

 

Part 3:

"Comrade" by Volcano Choir

 

about "An Introduction to Metaphysics" by Martin Heidegger

Why is there something rather than nothing? So begins this intro class by Heidegger. But the real question concerning our professor isn't Why?, but What? What is "being"? Not just the physical being we try to account for through our senses, but the being that underscores everything; not, for example, the red apple, but an apple's being colored.

The thought of philosophically problematizing being might sound hackneyed. Heidegger knows this. Over time, he says we've grown alienated from this most basic of philosophical problems, and here he endeavors to reintroduce the matter seriously. His primary method for doing so is to reanimate the concepts and thoughts of the ancient Greeks; these are concepts that much influenced his own work.

Heidegger is notoriously difficult to study. This introductory lecture is no exception. Being appears vaporous and is indefinite in meaning, he admits, but, nevertheless, we know being is distinct from non-being, and so can conclude that we do intuit being in some sense everyday. Heidegger spent a considerable chunk of time and professional energy trying to catch that intuition.

More Heidegger readings to come.

something about the movie "Gravity"

The film "Gravity" offers a movie-going experience. Yes, the visuals stun and inspire. But it's more than beauty that makes us submit. The story is simple but the action engrossing; and the protagonist is uncomplicated--a supple mirror in which we replace the image with ourselves. So we fret and ease along with her as the film creates the illusion of time alternately speeding up and then crawling; it does so with the sounds of breathing, of heartbeats, of blinking lights, watches, and faceless monitors that beep out the pace, switching from measured rhythms to urgent, pleading buzzes. And when we finally reach the moment when we can pause and consider all that just happened, we're left with a sense of wonder--not just of the vastness of the universe, but the resilience of the human spirit. Now, this human spirit stuff is a sort of hackneyed theme and an easy payoff for the writers but it works okay here.


Notes:

• Highly recommend seeing this in 3D.
• In an academic setting, one could argue that this movie conveys Heideggerian themes. 
• This does not say anything to spoil.

I wear the required uniform.

"Screws fall out all the time. The world is an imperfect place."

Psychology for clicks

This Vanity Fair article, "The Lonely Guy," makes the case that President Obama's strong inward-directedness underpins his political failures. The diagnosis:

Self-containment is not simply Obama’s political default mode. Self-possession is the core of his being, and a central part of the secret of his success. It is Obama’s unwavering discipline to keep his cool when others are losing theirs, and it seems likely that no black man who behaved otherwise could ever have won the presidency.

But this quality, perhaps Obama’s greatest strength in gaining office, is his greatest weakness in conducting it.

Obama’s self-evident isolation has another effect: It tends to insulate him from engagement in the management of his own administration. The latest round of “what did the president know and when did he know it” on the disastrous rollout of Obamacare and the tapping of German chancellor Angela Merkel’s cell phone raised troubling questions: Were Obama’s aides too afraid to tell him?

The author would have us believe that Obama's self is the issue here. The matter is not poor leadership, carelessness, incompetence, bad delegation practices, or the simple fact that every presidency has some major failures. No, in Obama's case we find a complication of self.

The article then relates a few quotes from Obama's peers who say the man is aloof. Gradually the author shifts his thesis away from Obama's selfhood and toward his character, essentially saying the President is not a team player. "He has quietly purged from his inner circle those most likely to stand up to him." The fix? "Obama has always insisted that he is playing a long game. The problem is that when everyone else in Washington is still playing a short game, the president sometimes has to play on their board." This unsupported claim applies to the reader, too. The article's author renders a judgment that time can't bear out and the reader is supposed to click through.