Saturday, May 12, 2007

Pipe Dreams in Nietzsche's Playground or...


The Importance of Titles: Not a Treachery of Images

Other than the sentence you are currently reading, the most nuanced and detail-oriented task during the composition of this brief vignette was the creation of the title. Perhaps, it shows. Nietzsche understood the importance of a good title. Some of the most interesting titles, subtitles, and alternate titles of academic works from that era can be found in the corpus of Nietzsche. Just to highlight a few in case you are unconvinced:

"Twilight of the Idols, Or, How One Philosophizes With a Hammer"
"On the Use and Abuse of History for Life"
"Thus Spake Zarathustra: A Book for All and None"

These works, of course, are more and less than what they offer. Titles are the dynamos of expectation. The efficiency of this mechanism depends on the cleverness, complexity, or the ability to communicate provocatively the contents within. As such, the title is the ultimate prostitute of the written language. It demands our attention, we are drawn to it by its superficialities, its pretty wares and its suggestive offerings. Upon purchase...the more glamorous the title, the greater the disappointment. It is not because the work within to which the title refers, cannot live up to its billing, and it is of course the case that the work gives us much of what we pay for, and can offer things no title could offer; it is simply that the title in all its exquisite formation is just that, an exquisite formation. It exists only for itself, only to perpetuate its own remembrance and repetition in the hearts and minds of book-shoppers.

The first sentence in the work, in contradistinction to the title, is beholden to the second, the third and the rest of the book. It must serve as fertile ground to give voice to the thoughts of the author and the explanatory foundation for the reader. The title is simply that which grounds the purchaser to give "voice" to her wallet. In many cases, the first sentence of a work is as memorable as the title of it, "It was the best of times it was the worst of times," and "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of large fortune must be in want of a wife." Dickens and Austen certainly had some appreciation for the importance of first lines, and not just for titles, but for characters and places as well.

Who can forget Mr. Wackford Squeers that less than lovable one-eyed Yorkshire schoolmaster from that alliteratively named Dickens work, Nicholas Nickleby?

Some first sentences try too hard, they are envious of their titular counterparts and seek to establish expectations of such momentous proportions that they fall miserably into a grammatically elusive, metaphorically overloaded and syntactically fucked abyss (See current sentence for evidence). Where do bad opening lines go, excluding the neighborhood pub, they go to the nomination bin for the
Bulwer-Lytton Award for worst opening line of a previously unpublished novel. Edward Bulwer-Lytton was actually quite an accomplished author, though he may not have written any literary tour-de-forces, he certainly had talent as a writer and is the attributed coiner of the interesting phrase, "the pen is mightier than the sword." His more critically successful novels included, Rienzi and The Last Days of Pompeii. However, the reason that this illustrious prize is named after him is that the novel, Paul Clifford, begins with the oft Snoopy-snatched intro:

"It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents--except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness."
Before we get into why, if indeed this opening sentence is bad, the train wreck that is the 2006 winner goes something like this:
"Detective Bart Lasiter was in his office studying the light from his one small window falling on his super burrito when the door swung open to reveal a woman whose body said you've had your last burrito for a while, whose face said angels did exist, and whose eyes said she could make you dig your own grave and lick the shovel clean."
This piece of work was submitted by Jim Guigli. Now it seems that there are some who are actively involved in trying to win this award given year by the San Jose St. English Department. I think that is cheating, it is the unwitting naiveness of the author in his or her fiasco of an opener which generates a truly robust experience of Schadenfreude, the sort of experience that I would argue, this award is meant to make emblematic . In any event, it is pretty bad, and for some unambiguous reasons. One, the super burrito adds a cheese factor (my apologies) that is most definitely intentional. Second, is it the light or the window that is falling on the super burrito, which is filled with gravitas and extra beans? Third, and really-who knew that body parts would have such a mediocre grasp of the English language and the grammatical categories of person, voice, or tense. Finally, that grave site must be fairly muddy to be licking shovels clean, and frankly I don't think I would find any pair of eyes compelling me to lick a muddy shovel to be particularly sexy or desirable.

In the first sentence by Mr. Bulwer-Lytton, the torrential downpour's punch is awkwardly attenuated at occasional intervals. While the violent gust of wind seems to be doing double duty as a janitor, and in case there was just too much going on, i.e. rain and wind (the oddly placed parentheses are utilized to help reveal an essential piece of the puzzle, that scenes lie in London...those bastards), and apparently Bulwer-Lytton believes scanty flames are easily angered.

We expect a lot from our titles, and from our opening sentences. We also expect quite a bit from our final sentences as well. Some great ones, and we must rely on Dickens here again, have included:

"It is a far far better thing that I do, than I have ever done, it is a far far better rest that I go to than I have ever known."-
A Tale of Two Cities

and this one from Kurt Vonnegut Jr.:

"One bird said to Billy Pilgrim, 'Poo-tee-tweet?''"- Slaughterhouse-Five; or, The Children's Crusade: A Duty-Dance with Death

Quite an evocative title as well, no? I think this sort of emphasis on titles, and on opening and closing lines is a result of the obsession of surface, and the tyranny of substance-ontology. We expect greatness to have measure, extension, weight...when we look at a box, a gift let's say, we recognize the "giftness" of the gift by enjoying its pretty wrapping, weighing it in our hands, and many turn the gift around in their hands to see all sides of it (a strange artifact of gift exchange indeed, this sort of anticipatory foreplay). Are they making sure it has a bottom, is the left-side going to be so radically different from the right side, that one must make sure the other side is not an elephant? It seems that this kind of objectification is exactly the sort of process that we apply to books. Now, books are objects, paper or vellum (okay..vellum not so much), that are bound together and covered. But there is also an objectification of the narrative, or meaning of the work. The sort of literary equivalents of wrapping paper, top and bottom seem to be these qualities of a work which have been discussed. I am not so sure this is how we should conceive of works of literature.

Hamlet
is not just the words Shakespeare wrote down that are contained in a Folio somewhere in some museum in Stratford-upon-Avon. Hamlet is an unfolding event of performances, readings, movies, critical interpretations that each have a historically traceable "flow." Hamlet, his character, represents a different part of a radically different society, than it did in 16th and 17th century Britain. The opening and closing lines of Hamlet are: "Who's there?" and "Go, bid the soldiers shoot." Ironically, despite the richness of the plot, character development, the famous "To be or not to be?" it is the first line "Who's there?" captures a great deal of the work's meaning and importance. Or so a typical critical interpretation might begin. Yes, the existential dilemma of Hamlet, the lack of closure present in most of the relationships, all figure as important themes in the work that may or may not be captured by the line, 'Who's there?" But, that is not enough.

Titles, emblems, one-liners only flatten and make surface-like the richness and complexity of language, which itself is already a flattening process. It seems that those who are interested in the project of humanity, should seek to deepen and exteriorize the deep play of their being human. Instead, we have a flattening of language, a reduction of diversity in our speech and writing habits..BTW this type of "new speak" is quite disconcerting and IMHO this should not lead one to LOL. The emphasis on efficiency, simplicity, and pattern is a language-game in which there are no winners. I believe if Postmodernism has any salvific attributes it is a deconstruction of these calls to efficiency and simplicity and the reinvigoration of the love of confusion, and paradox which might lead us back from scientistic Barbarism. Taking play seriously does not mean seriousness is a toy it can be a tool as well.

Play, faith and style...

8 comments:

Chippy said...

Ahmad Ragab: "Nietzsche isn't a philosopher at all!"

Professor Steven Michels: "Rorty, like many others, sees Nietzsche as the first to assess accurately the

nature of truth, and he emphasizes the part of Nietzsche’s thought that portrays nature as an

unknowable chaos...For Rorty, Nietzsche summarizes perfectly the major precept of postmodernism.

So dependent on Nietzsche is Rorty that if Nietzsche did not exist, Rorty would have to invent him"

and now, the Internet Encyclopedia o'philosophy: "In a way that is oddly reminiscent of Nietzsche,

Zizek generally presents his work in a polemical fashion, knowingly striking out against the grain of

accepted opinion"

-----------------------------------

Ahmad, after you made the quip abou Friedrich N, I was puzzled. That's why i mentioned Zizek

later during the day. Lots of people, especially analyticists, have thought relatively little of Nietzsche.

But postmodernism, which you seem all about, (to be colloquial:-) is squarely in Friedrich's debt, no? I

mean in Twilight of the Idols, Nietzsche basically outlines the "simulacrum" and that stuff. And his

"perspectivism" certainly seems to anticipate postmodernist pluralism and anti-universalism.

So how can you admire Rorty (and Zizek) and not admire Nietzsche? I'm puzzled. I'm no

intellectual, duh, but I have read several (very) critical biographies of Foucault and Derrida, and both

men were completely open about their debt to Nietzsche----Foucault even described his project at one

point as being conducted "under the sun of Nietzsche"? So I don't understand...how can he NOT

be a philosopher, and the other guys, post-modernists in one fashion or another, rate as such?

Now, Nietzsche was clearly (as clearly as a philosopher can do anything) trying to create a

superior system of values by synthesizing 'modern' creativity with old fashioned elitism, and since

that is an affirmative project, that places him in opposition to the (stereotypical) po-mo embrace of all narratives as equal. But even if N rejected the 'postmodern condition' as lamentable, from the

grave, his observations and writings blazed the trail for it, right?

Unknown said...

This account of Nietzsche is generally accurate, insofar that any account can be accurate, and the intentionally non-systematic presentation of his thought, the apotheosis of which has left us with the so-called "lamentable" state of postmodernism is a well-rehearsed point. But indeed insofar that his style is aphoristic, contradictory and inflammatory suggests that he is not bound by the academic tenets of traditional philosophical writing. To which I respond, bully for him. As such, calling Nietzsche a non-philosopher is perhaps a larger compliment than what you interpreted from my designation. Rorty's claim as regards Nietzsche is as applicable to him as maybe a Yeats, or a Blake, or [insert timeless-transcendentally cool poet here]. This whole conception of unknowable chaos is exactly the sort of impulse that the "philosopher" wants to avoid, even if she recognizes the project is an inevitable failure the desire to inquire at least begins nominally with a hope that the inquiry does not lead irrevocably into an abyss. It is the poet who is unconcerned and might even welcome the abyss. Nietzsche it seems, who had no love for the safe philosopher, was intellectually and emotionally committed to the abyss. Many post-moderns are emotionally and intellectually committed to very little.

I see Zizek as falling outside this tradition slightly, though his genesis is only possible in this world of incredulity towards metanarratives, and while is style is polemical and even raunchy at times, he sees his thought as an evolution of Marxist Neo-Lacanian post-structuralist thought, rather than a strict upheaval. Insofar that this is the case, he feels obligated and compelled to respond to Hegel, Kant and the rest of the tradition of German idealism. This is important because, it is after this point where the separation between Continental and Anglo-Analytic philosopher seems to have occurred. A not so Great Schism, to be sure. Zizek sees his work as historically and intellectually tied to this, much more so than Derrida or Foucault and even Nietzsche. Though it cannot go without saying that, of course, it is all sutured together even if particular parties fail to recognize the thread.

Chippy said...

Hey Ahmad,

thanks for your eloquent responses to my ragged post. A few random, admittedly amateurish points

1- does the true philosopher really avoid the notion of the unmappable chaos? I think of Kant claiming that the "noumenal" reality unfiltered by our categories is something like unknowable void.


2-You imply that N is not engaged in a dialogue with the key ideas of the central thinkers of the West, while to me his work seems "compelled to respond" to Hegel, Kant and the rest of the tradition of German idealism (which he often castigated as a flight from reality). The political philosopher Raymond Plant notes that Nietzsche's attempt to sever the unity between God and humanity which Hegel posited is at the core of Nietzsche's reflections on the 'death of God. N clearly knew a great deal about ancient philosophy, especially Plato and the pre-Socratics, from his philological training, and his Ubermesch is obviously a variation on Aristotle's Generous souled man.



3-Was N. really "intellectually and emotionally committed to the abyss" in any real sense? Bryan Magee notes that in the opinion of many others, Nietzsche's constructive ethical project is "the most important philosophical project today". And wasn't N's flaky invocation of 'eternal recurrence' in Zarathustra an attempt to underscore the vital importance of every action we commit? That seems like the opposite of abyss-mal nihilism to me, as does his general point that we should not live our lives ruled by value systems which he have repudiated with our reason.

4 Whether bound by the tenets of standardized professional philosophy (which is basically a 20th century phenomenon, from what I understand) Nietzsche's work seems far more comprehensible to me :-) than Marx, Hegel or Lacan. I still don't get the gist of the geist after several attempts at Hegel. And Lacan... writes in an intentionally obscure style, which even some great scholars found impossible to fathom. Noted Freud scholar Paul Ricoeur audited Lacan’s course during the 1960s and found himself unable to understand a word of it pronouncing his writings ‘uselessly difficult and perverse in its proclivity towards suspension.’ And the great Claude Lévi-Strauss himself, having attended Lacan’s courses, later recalled that ‘as far as what I heard went, I didn’t understand".

In fact, Ahmad, doesn't Lacan fit the criteria of being a poet rather than a philosopher more closely than Nietzsche? After all, what can statements like "the torus is exactly the structure of the neurotic" or "the unconscious is structured like a language" mean? The unconscious is a dubious enough concept, so claiming that it has a discrete structure is quite a leap, and then to say that language rather than the biology of the brain is responsible for its structure...Ahmad, does Lacan's work really belong in the intellectually legit ? From what I have read, his theory of the mind's composition is flatly rejected by almost all practicing psychologists and psychiatrists (as is Freud's; experts that work with children ignore both thinkers, as my friend Gary who teaches at NYU remarked to me).

Is your noton of Nietzsche mostly based on Rorty's discussion of the systematic vs edifying philosopher on pages 368-371 (in my copy of) Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature? Rorty's categorization of N as one of those that can't "give reasons, argue for their views, and justify himself" is possibly a minority view among serious Nietzsche scholars (at least R. Solomon, Nehamas, Kaufmann, Safringer, Schmidt, and the others I've peeked at). You are aware that Rorty had something of a reputation for tendentious historical scholarship, right? Famously chided by Gadamer in person for a basic misreading of Truth and Method, Rorty was regarded by a great many professional philosophers as a man who put thinkers on his bed of Procrustes to produce readings congenial to his current theory, ignoring the untidy bits. I only discovered that after reading several of the vehement anti-Rorty polemics published after his death.

5- You have a neat blog, and are a fine writer. Good luck...and I apologize once again for my unseemly meltdown.

Unknown said...

Great stuff Chip, I will try to respond generally making specific references to your comments, rather than engaging in a pedantic point-by-point response. I have always thought that to be an inherently antagonistic strategy. The points you make are far from amateurish, though this comment must be taken with a significant grain of salt, when considering the professional credentials of the source, which are none.

I think it is definitely the case that the contemporary academic philosopher in the Anglo-Analytic tradition does what she can in order to avoid the “unmappable chaos.” Initially harassed into doing so by the Cambridge Ordinary Language Cabal, led by Wittgenstein (the early one, of course) and his now slogan-like command is left ringing in our hears, the one that concludes the Tractatus “what we cannot speak of we must pass over in silence.” Secondarily, the desire to establish relevancy in a increasingly technologically barbaric world where the systematicization of knowledge can be used to predict and subjugate human agency, requires that philosophy be “justified” as an inquiry which is facilitative to development: economic, political, and scientific. The postmodern tradition is in some real way a violent (as violent as philosophers are likely to be) and rhetorically excessive reaction to this criteria. Nevertheless, the academic institutions in which philosophy is done is answerable to university administrators that demand certain quantifiable goals be set for students so that an effective metric can be created to determine the saliency of continuing to teach philosophy. The result, good, bad or indifferent is naturally resistive to talk about unknowable voids, and abysses of chaos-that talk is reserved for the English Department in Cooper Hall, not here in the Philosophy department, where “serious” work is being done (sounds convincing, eh?)

Generally, Nietzsche is taught here in the United States because he is a favorite of the kiddies (and rightfully so, I might add) because I think in many ways the polemical and bombastic tone that he takes resonates quite well with the Dionysian energies of the College co-ed. Now serious Nietzsche scholars will object and suggest that his rhetorical strategy only serves to indirectly assist the constructive positive elements of a robust philosophical project and not as a diversionary tactic employed so that we may miss the sickly, emotionally sensitive N. behind the curtain, whose substantive program supposedly amounts to very little. Excellent objection, to be sure, but we cannot replace the subsequent philosophical machinery that has been installed around N. without considering, what he actually said and the way he actually said it. Furthermore, we cannot disengage the embedded social context in which philosophy is taught in the United States (of course all of my comments are equally embedded in this context, I admit that this understanding generally of Nietzsche as poet may fly directly in the face of European trained philosophers) and that social context places Nietzsche well in the path of “edifying philosopher” or as I would nuance “Sophia’s poet.”

In Nietzsche’s invective to the metaphysician in his Beyond Good and Evil (pg.4-6) he suggests, “Whatever value might be attributed to truth, truthfulness, or selflessness, it could be possible…the will to deception, and craven self-interest, should be accorded a higher and more fundamental value for all life.” This ostensibly is what Bryan Magee et. al. may be keying in on, this intellectual task to shift the discursive focus to living and life-affirmative activities from the linguistic opposition of terms. But it seems that he takes it away from us in the next breath, “…whatever gives value to those good and honorable things has an incriminating link, bond, or tie to the very things that [are] like their evil opposites, perhaps they are even essentially the same, Perhaps! But who is willing to take charge of such a dangerous Perhaps! For this we must await the arrival of a new breed of philosophers….” Polar opposition not as new synthesis (Hegel) but rather as inverted identity (or as Zizek will call a century later an impossible Short Circuit). Of course Nietzsche’s commentators are compelled to respond to Hegel, Kant and the rest of the Western tradition, but Nietzsche as a figure himself, ecce homo indeed, is not so compelled to respond. It is dangerous ground to conflate the man with his ideas, but to borrow from a prepubescent exculpatory technique, “HE STARTED IT!” I say Nietzsche gave us license to be edified by him as both a writer and an individual; it is a right freely given and freely taken.

Rorty’s claim about his inability to make claims, give reasons, and justify himself is an interesting and pointed one. N. suggests a little later on in BG&E that “what every great philosophy so far has been: a confession of faith on the part of its author, and a type of involuntary and unself-conscious memoir.” It seems that Rorty’s requirement that one be able “justify himself” would be read by Nietzsche as “justify using himself,” and one which N. would immediately decry as the aforementioned confession (though I will not do so here, something very interesting I think can be made about this “confession of faith” qua Foucault’s analysis of the confessional mode in the History of Sexuality). If indeed great philosophy is unself-conscious memoir, then what is self-conscious memoir, as I would argue the work of Nietzsche’s is? I say prose in the meter of Nietzsche.

Regardless of over who’s head the Damoclean Sword of Philosopher or Poet is hung, whether it be Lacan, Nietzsche, or whomever; it is not going to turn on the unintelligibility or clarity of their prose style, nor does being dense or elliptical, bar one from participating at the table of intellectual legitimacy. To be honest I am not sure what it turns on, something to do with the reception of the work from the appointed experts and the ostensible audience certainly has a role to play. As an aside, this conversation shares some similarities to the frequent discussions regarding the “canon of quizbowl,” i.e. what can legitimately be included in the answer space has more to do with the cadre of ACF and NAQT writers rather than some independent criteria of academic suitability. The claim of Nietzsche as poet, has less to do with us than it does with Nietzsche. All the of the academic tools at the disposal of the reader or commentator can be brought to bear on dear Friedrich Wilhelm. He is, in my mind, the preeminent philosopher’s poet and the most engaging of the poet’s philosophers. All I would suggest is that the tools of literary analysis, specifically poetic analysis, be brought to fore of the discussion. Its edifying aspects do not invalidate its systematicizing consequences.

So that is it for now, I have enjoyed this edifying, though wholly unsystematic dialog-I look forward to any response you may have.

Unknown said...

There was one statement after that I wanted to respond directly to- you claim that Zarathustra's teaching of Eternal Recurrence was some "flaky invocation" to highlight the real importance of every action we commit, rather than the so-called commitment to the abyss I infer from Nietzsche. I couldn't quite place my finger on it initially, but something struck me as tendentious. In the section entitled the "The Convalescent," after Zarathustra teaches the animals about Eternal recurrence they suggest that the song is one of convalescence and suggest that he go outside to the garden, and learn to sing from the birds therein. Zarathustra responds with vitriol, and tells them to shut up and mocks them for how well they understand his song of eternal recurrence, he tells them, "That I must sing once again, this comfort that I invented for myself and this convalescence; but do you want to make that into a hurdy-gurdy song right away too."

The word for hurdy-gurdy song is leierlied also the same word for "pop song," I think the idea here is that the concept of Eternal Recurrence is not some fluffy or flaky (pick your favorite baking analogy) happy-go-lucky concept of renewal or some Carpe Diem hogwash, but really something much more like the acceptance of suffering, the terrorizing and chaotic consequences of a history that repeats itself inexorably rendering impotent the progressive possibility of any action. To truly think of one's personal narrative as infinitely cyclical means possibly that no action ever opens the next moment to a new possibility, there is no progression there is only abyssal repetition, convalescence indeed.

Mircea Eliade, noted Religious Studies scholar, and Romanian Nazi (bonus!), explicates the "terror of history" experienced by ancient cultures which thought of history as cyclical rather than linear, and writes about it in his work The Myth of Eternal Return.

Anonymous said...

Ahmad?

My view of the "eternal recurrence" is based on that quote from Gay Science in which Freddy writes

that "If this thought gained power over you, as you are it would transform and possibly crush you; the

question in each and every thing, 'Do you want this again and innumerable times again?' would lie on

your actions as the heaviest weight"

....

Or how well disposed would you have to become to yourself and to life to long for nothing more

fervently than for this ultimate eternal confirmation and seal?"

Also, in the hodgepodge of quotes deemed "The Will to Power", Freddy notes that "To endure the

idea of the recurrence one needs: freedom from morality; new means against the fact of pain ( pain

conceived as a tool, as the father of pleasure...); the enjoyment of all kinds of uncertainty,

experimentalism, as a counterweight to this extreme fatalism; abolition of the concept of necessity;

abolition of the "will"; abolition of "knowledge-in-itself."'

However, your reading of "The Convalescent" sounds durned convincing. My pat description of eternal

recurrence is waay too glib, as poor Tom Cruise might say, and definitely underplays the terrifying

aspects of cycling the same experiences ad infintum (add nauseum?) that you note. In that passage

Zarathustra, down in the dumps contemplating being dragged through eternity, definitely despairs at

the magnitude of the job of justifying his sad life to eternity. He questions the immense couurage and

energy it would require.
(although in a nice touch the animals cheer him up by reminding him of his world-historical destiny. I

think N certainly implies that without a lot of moxie eternal recurrence would be hell


However...when Zarathustra introduces the recurrence in that scene with the dwarf and the spider and

the moonlight, he also relates the weird story of a a shepherd who swallows a snake and suffers

accordingly, but then decapitates the beast and erupts in laughter. I'm guessing that N is saying there

that the burden of embracing a forever cycling reality would be vertigo-inducing and painful, heck

poisonous and toxic, but if you could face the fear but do it anyway...you could dance that old cosmic

dance he's always prattling about.


The very different thinker Simone Weil once described the 'pure love of God' as being exactly as

grateful for your tribulations as you were for your blessings. I think that phrase is more in the spirit of

Zarathustra's relation to eternal recurrence than my glib one.


( BTW I haven't read Eliade, but am somewhat familiar with the concept of 'terror of history' from some

lectures on Medieval Spain which borrowed his insights. And Joseph Campbell describes a similar

phenomenon in his stupefyingly dense "Oriental Mythology" which I worked (halfway) through last

year, for some reason )

Nietzsche's use of the ancient idea strikes me as part of his endless campaign against Christianity.

One of the well-rehearsed points of Christian dogma in a certain phase is that despite all of its

splendours, the world of high paganism was morally hamstrung by its lack of a narrative of general

progress (generously provided by J.C. and company). That history was just a cycle of woe, conquerers

and tragedies etc before the idea of being judged individually and rewarded (or the other thing) after

one shuffled off of the mortal coil provided MEANING to HISTORY!!!!

What sly Freddy does, i think, is provide an alternate route to making history meaningful, by recycling

the ancient mystic spiral idea which far predates Christ, but giving it an individualist twist: our lives are

justified not becuase we are judged in the long run by an outside agent, but becuase we judge

ourselves at each and every moment. That is definitely not an easy...cross to bear, you are correct Mr

Ragab.


BTW, when I used the term 'flaky' I was dissing the concept of eternal recurrence----and the weird

snake story and many of the other concepts expressed in "Thus Spake Zarathustra". I know that some

consider the work his masterpiece, but I confess that I find much of it (and Antichrist) to have way too

much of the " polemical and bombastic" stuff that you referenced. Zarathustra is up and down like a

manic depressive. I prefer cool and classic Nietzsche, the aphorist in the french style that penned

"Human all too Human" and "Schopenhauer as Educator" to the ranting pilgrim of TSZ. I was

signalling that your gently couched criticisms of Nietzsche were more correct than I had allowed. He's a

wonderful read, but in a devil's advocate contrarian way: his works challenge some deeply held

convictions about ethics, truth etc, but seem an unworkable substitute for Islamic-judaeo-christian

principles in the final analysis. And the elitism and cruelty of so many of his ethical political

pronouncements is repugnant, the man is the reverse of a Democrat.

Nietzsche is fun to read, but Spinoza and Kant are better for your soul and your neighborhood. The

very act of re-reading some of his stuff to compose these posts underscores all of that. I sit corrected,

you are right. Nietzsche a poet Ahmad and only occasionally a transcendentally cool one.

Thanks for your time, and sorry for the brusque tone of some of my comments. That's the notorious insecurity of the autodidact when confronting a legit scholastic type with his idiosyncratic piffle. Besides, we both know that

my seconds of shallow ire is no match for your deep ironies :-)

Thanks for taking the time to answer my posts (which are not really "great stuff", but thanx for being

generous enough in spirit to say that though) I've learned a lot from your comments, and from your stoical example.

Unknown said...

Chip,

For me Nietzsche is a great and powerful philosophical sword useful in almost any battle of words and ideas. What is really great about this sword, and why it's not just a hammer, is that it fits almost everyone's hand and for almost any rhetorical style. It is equally as dexterous in the possession of the most antagonistic atheist who wields it as a two-handed Highland Claymore to chop away at the Judeo-Christian edifice, as it is in the hands of the most genteel literary critic who manipulates a fencing foil, offering post-colonial ripostes to the literary establishment.

However, can a nation be built by the sword alone, regardless of its deftness or cleverness? I think in the end no, but perhaps that is not what we are after or should be at any rate. Finally, to use Nietzsche as a sharp and slicingly ironic katana (my weapon of choice)- regardless if one holds that he is a poet, philosopher, postmodern godfather, or ur-Nazi, "there are no facts, just (mis)interpretations."

Chippy said...

I know EXACTLY what you mean, my cute interlocutor.

I don't have a favorite sword...but I do have two quotes that come to mind from my recent readings


"Robert Hughes has even less regard for American academic art writing, ``an abstract, colonial parody of French post-structuralist jargon, thickened with gobbets of decayed Marxism."

and

My father's persistence in correcting me was very debilitating but at least it led to a good result: I learned how to write. My prose had been stiff and convoluted, as if I thought that inacesssible meaning signalled a deep, Sphinxian intelligence on the part of the author. My father disabused me of the notion that good writing required long words, long sentences, and a thicket of relative clauses nestled within other relative clauses. He taught me that complex ideas were best expressed in unadorned language in which the words themselves did not distract or overpower the message" (Paul Hoffman, King's Gambit)


Good Luck, ahmad!