Towards Greatness from Suffering

One of the main points of Nietzsche’s philosophy consists in accepting one’s own life as it is, with its good and bad aspects alike. Furthermore, Nietzsche asks us to say yes to our personal stories, while always taking control of our attitudes: we have to accept the things that happen to us and base on that the creation of our selves. This amor fati, as the philosopher puts it, implies the acceptance of suffering not as something that has to be merely tolerated, but as a constructive element of one’s personality, with the potential of being the origin of greatness. Moreover, it could be argued that suffering is, in fact, a necessary condition for greatness.

In order to analyze the latter statement, it is convenient to clarify the concept of “greatness”: throughout this work, we will understand by this any sign of elevation from the mechanical and unreflected routine of life, which can (but does not necessarily have to) be expressed through intellectual or creative production. In this sense, a perfect example of greatness would be, thus, existential doubt.

In spite of its being in some way a more universal concept, it is also important to specify the meaning of “suffering”. Although the first association made to this word might be that of physical pain, we will concentrate in the kind of suffering that arises from unsettling events that lead people to question their place in the world and the wherefore of things. We might call this kind of unpleasant feeling, which is created when we are moved out of our comfort zone, “existential suffering” or “suffering of the soul”.

Now that the ideas of suffering and greatness are better characterized, it is possible to study how the former can give rise to the later. To do this, one could imagine what would a life lacking suffering be like and would immediately notice that, with all wishes satisfied and without any disappointment whatsoever, in such a contemptible life there would be no stimulus for self-reflection, greatness being practically impossible. However, does this mean that people from opulent backgrounds cannot be philosophers while the poor and miserable are more prone to greatness? Not at all: the fact that someone comes from an economically favorable context does not imply he is protected from personal miseries and, on the other hand, an excessive amount of suffering will prevent any considerable intellectual production (one cannot be expected to think if he does not have what to eat).

But, isn’t it possible to achieve greatness based on passion and awe? Undoubtedly yes, but even this admiration for the world would have a component of suffering. Because, what lies behind astonishment other than the moving and unpleasant feeling that we are insignificant and the world widely surpasses us in greatness? Suffering is not only crying because we lost someone loved, but also laughing because the world is incomprehensibly beautiful. Whenever we feel that there is something out of place, whenever we are challenged and thrown into a sea of questions, we suffer. And suffering is a call to change, an act of rebellion that impulses us to think and create.

The way this “suffering of the soul” propels us to doubt and reflect might be incredibly indirect – something that supports the idea that it is in fact the cause of greatness. For instance, the writing of this analysis could be said to have been motivated by a mourning for the lost of suffering; that is: I used to suffer and I thought, now I don’t suffer but I don’t think and this makes me suffer, hence I think. The lines of causation are extremely diverse.

To be “useful”, suffering must, then, not be constant: there has to be time to stop and assimilate, as well as moments to breathe and be revitalized. Yet, with all these conditions, it is this suffering –this awareness of the tragic sense of life– what makes us humans and is, therefore, a necessary condition for our lives. Amor fati means saying yes to suffering: suffering means being human and, thus, a life without suffering might not be worth living.

Maximiliano Isi

HNRS 120 - Journal 3

We Live Dramatically

We are going to die. I am going to die. But what will we do about it? But what will I do about it?

In the ancient story of Barlaam and Iosaph (one of the best-known versions of it being attributed to St. John Damascene), Barlaam tells his disciple the story of the Man and the Unicorn. In this parable, a man chased by a unicorn falls in a well, but gets to grasp the branch of a tree and avoids falling completely. However, he soon notices that two mice -one white, one black- are gnawing the root of the tree and that, at the bottom of the well, a fierce dragon waits for him. Nevertheless, he also sees that there is honey running through the branches he is grabbing and its sweet taste is enough for him to forget all the dangers surrounding him.

This image was inspired in this wonderful tale. Most of the symbolism of it has been maintained: the unicorn represents death; the mice, day and night; and the tree, our lives. The man has been depicted sleeping, instead of enjoying the pleasures of mundane life, but the message intends to be similar. For its part, the background of the picture presents superposed text -mainly consisting of the original story in Greek and English- in different languages to represent how the humanity of death extends beyond times and cultures.

The rest of the text, however, expresses, sometimes through quotes, my ideas and feelings on the matter. Is sleeping, until our days are over, our only option? Or, perhaps, we should acknowledge our fate (more properly, our nature), descending from the tree and, instead of running away from the unicorn, walk besides him until one day it pierces us with his horn -not violently, but carefully; not as a surprise, but as an expected end. Would this be possible? Is this compatible with our essence?

The first quote, by George Santayana, reminds us that while we are intrinsically problematic, the world around us is not: the universe does not care. But, actually, this realization makes our lives more dramatic: we are ignored, there is no place for us. And indeed, as Unamuno says, ¿para qué? wherefore all this drama? wherefore all this contradiction and suffering?, ¿para qué vivir?

Whatever the answers for these questions are, the only way to keep the possibility of an answer open is by truly living; that is, being awake and conscious of our situation. And I will open my eyes -because, after all, je ne veux pas mourir.

Maximiliano Isi

Note: the image was developed through Pixlr by combining and altering freely available materials (original individual items: unicorn in white, tree in white, white mouse, sleeping man with background and not rotated, clock with background). Of these, two authors are known: (1) the picture of the sleeping man was obtained by removing the background of Akio Takamori's Sleeping Man and (2) the drawing of the unicorn was taken from a blog called Mystical beings.

HNRS 120 - Journal 2

Despairing without God
an experiment on Kierkegaard’s philosophy

God is, in Kierkegaard’s philosophy, a key element around which all of his thoughts should be understood. Furthermore, his ideas are immersed so deeply in the context of Christendom that eliminating the concept of God from them, while keeping consistence, seems unconceivable. Yet, analyzing this philosopher’s thoughts from an atheistic standpoint could yield highly interesting results –given that, if something were to withstand an interpretation of such kind, the remaining ideas would be of great generality and, thus, speak more directly of the human essence. With this in mind, I will try to explore the consequences of taking God out of Kierkegaard’s conception of despair.

To begin with, central to this philosopher’s argument is the notion of human self, which he defines as synthesis of different natures: the finite and the infinite; the eternal and the temporal; the possible and the necessary. But self is also “a relation which relates itself to its own self, and in relating itself to its own self relates itself to another” (Kierkegaard 13). This could be interpreted as seeing the self as a synthesis that self-references and is related to a greater “power” which gives it meaning. For Kierkegaard this power is nothing but God.

For the sake of the argument, we will suppose the inexistence of God and will, therefore, reduce Kierkegaard’s definition of self to a consistent, self-referential synthesis which is able to identify itself as a center (i.e. recognize itself as different from the world). In trying to stay as close to Kierkegaard as possible, we will keep the synthesis as made from the same elements above mentioned.

Yet, in Kierkegaard’s view, humans cannot become a self during their lives –the reason for this being despair. Despair can be seen as an unbalance of the different natures that compose human self. In this manner, the philosopher identifies two main categories of despair: one stemmed in not willing to be oneself and the other in willing to be oneself. The first kind (called also despair of weakness) arises from a problem in the way that the synthesis relates to itself: one doesn’t want to be oneself, he wants to be another –and this means not wanting to be at all, for the only way to be is to be oneself. The second sort (defiance) has origin in the relation with God, since one wants to be a self on his own and does not recognize the link to the power of which the relation is actually made.

Then, it becomes obvious that, if we extract God from this thinking, we are left with only one kind of despair: that of not willing to be oneself –given that this is not defined in terms of God. On the contrary, willing to be oneself cannot still be considered despair; since there is actually no relation that the person is not willing to accept. Hence, wanting to be oneself, in principle, would seem to be a way out of despair.

Therefore, for the moment, the first sort of despair is the only one to require analysis. We have, thus, to ask the question: what may make someone will not to be oneself? Kierkegaard gives two different answers: despair over the earthly, when one despairs over a concrete thing, person or situation; and despair over the eternal, when one despairs over being in despair. Without making reference to a divinity, the despair over the earthly could be easily explained by means of sociological, psychological or even biological arguments; but the second one would not be so easy to understand. After all, why should one despair over being in despair when there are sociological, psychological and biological explanations for that state? The answer is embedded in the question, for, are we so feeble that we despair so easily? Are we so insignificant that we can be reduced to sociological, psychological and biological explanations? Are we so dispensable that there is no deepness at all in our existence, no secret meaning of life? Thus, despair is auto-catalytic and its cause is found in the consciousness of our lack of purpose.

So, is everyone in despair? According to Kierkegaard, yes. But there is hope: we must only recognize it is not in our power to get out of despair and must have faith that God will make of us a self. Nonetheless, if there is no God, there is no way out of despair either. Not even seeking to be oneself –although we had identified this attitude as a possible escape from despair into the self– can eliminate the absurdity of life. Hence, the despair of those in defiance does not arise from a broken relation with the divinity (as Kierkegaard would assert) but from being more aware of despair than those in weakness; they are far more deeply and constantly affected by the lack of purpose of existence and, in the conscious effort to create themselves, can never eliminate the despair which, in turn, is the cause of their personal struggles (i.e. the effort to create themselves). Nevertheless, it must be noted that, given that we have taken God out of the system, defiance becomes the closest state to being a self –considering that, for Kierkegaard, being more conscious of despair implies being closer to becoming a self.

Consequently, the nonexistence of God implies a lack of transcendence and external meaning, and, therefore, the absence of a self that is qualitatively different from the rest of the universe. Despair, then, arises, from our desire to be special and the realization that we are not –in the form of an internal contradiction (or “battle”) between the part of ourselves that wants to transcend and that which, in its resignation, wants to die.

As a result of this argumentation, one might conclude that, without God, Kierkegaard’s philosophy would reduce to an existential nihilism. However, this is not necessarily the case; because, in spite of everything, aren’t we special in our despair? As far as we know, we are indeed. And, can’t existence as it is be enough? If we wondered at life and valued it for its diversity and richness without the need of transcendental additives, then despair would definitely be soothed –by being transformed in curiosity, discovery and action. Would we still be in despair? For sure, but we would be able to rejoice in our despair, to be proud of it as the mystery that constitutes us.

Without any doubt, whatever the result of eliminating God from Kierkegaard’s philosophy is, it is not Kierkegaard’s philosophy anymore. Moreover, it would be surely regarded by the philosopher as an example of defiance of the worst kind –since there could be nothing worse for him than purposely denying God. Yet, as expected, this analysis yields some interesting results. First it becomes evident that the search of a meaning for our lives gets much more arduous if one is not willing to accept the existence of a God that would, from a higher level of existence, give us purpose. But most important is the clarification of the idea that value might be found in despair itself and that, in the end, it is this entire struggle what makes us Humans. Quoting Kierkegaard himself: “The possibility of this sickness [despair] is man’s advantage over the beast, and this advantage distinguishes him far more essentially than the erect posture, for it implies the infinite erectness or loftiness of being spirit” (Kierkegaard 14).

Maximiliano Isi

Note: Sin is a central concept in Kierkegaard’s philosophy, but there is no place for it if we do not consider God. For that reason, sin has not been analyzed in this work.

HNRS 120 - Journal 1

Watch Your Step
dialog between achilles and the tortoise

Note: This dialog was inspired by the format of the "Achilles and the Tortoise" dialogs of Douglas Hofstadter's book Gödel, Escher, Bach.

Such as it is usual, the tortoise is strolling through the racetrack, observing carefully the details of his surroundings. Suddenly, something calls his attention: some meters away, sitting on the ground, is Achilles.

TORTOISE: My dear friend, something big must have happened to you, for you are not running. What is the cause of this strange behavior of yours if I may know?

ACHILLES: Oh Tortoise you are right, something unprecedented just happened. I was, as I always am, running, when a dark question crossed my mind: why is it that we run?

On hearing this, the tortoise smiles and starts to walk again; Achilles is astounded.

ACHILLES: How can it be, my friend, that you seem not troubled at all by this deep thought?

TORTOISE: No, Achilles, you do not understand… That question is one of my biggest concerns and it has been so for a very long time. This is the reason why I walk, and walk slowly.

ACHILLES: If you have always wondered about these matters, why is it that you never shared it with me? I have been running my whole life without knowing that I did not know the reason why I did it.

TORTOISE: I apologize for my inconsideration, but you run too fast to hear me mumble and I was too concentrated as to shout.

ACHILLES: Concentrated in what?

TORTOISE: In being enlightened, of course.

ACHILLES: Oh I see! I know everything about enlightenment…

Achilles produces from his pocket a purple book with the words “The Path to Enlightenment” inscribed on the cover. He opens it and starts to read out loud.

ACHILLES: “Here is the key to enlightenment: look deep in your harmonic self and follow the precepts of the zodiac…”

TORTOISE: Excuse me, friend, but that is not enlightenment: that is bullshit!

ACHILLES: Oh so you meant enlightened as in the Enlightenment of revolutionary humanism, the time of wigged men.

TORTOISE: I fear, Achilles, that you are still gravely mistaken.

ACHILLES: So then, tell me please: what is enlightenment?

TORTOISE: Enlightenment is, of course, watching your step. And by that I mean knowing where you step and why you do it.

ACHILLES: So I guess this is intimately related to your slow walking.

TORTOISE: This time you are right, that is indeed how it is.

ACHILLES: If I understood well, then, you walk slowly to watch your step and be enlightened. I still don’t see, however, how this relates to the question I shared with you and that is burning me from the inside.

TORTOISE: I shall proceed to explain: the nature of your query is undeniably linked to the one about the purpose of the racetrack. So…

ACHILLES: I beg your pardon. Which is this track you are talking about?

The tortoise raises an eyebrow.

TORTOISE: The one on which we are standing now, the same you have been running on since I have memory.

Brusquely, the hero jumps from his position and stands still looking at the ground with amazement.

ACHILLES: In all the years I have been running, I have never seen this track.

TORTOISE: If that is so, you will be shocked to know that, since I started enlightening myself and walking slowly, I have discovered that there are entire worlds located ahead, behind and to our sides –that is, outside the track.

ACHILLES: You will have to excuse me, but I cannot believe what you are saying…

TORTOISE: You don’t have to, just raise your head and see it for yourself!

Achilles does as his friend says and the sight of the green hills and trees surrounding them is so overwhelming that he is forced to sit again

ACHILLES: This, I must say, is too much for me to withstand. I had always thought the world reduced to my feet and the patch of earth in which I stood.

TORTOISE: Didn’t you ever think you were running toward something? That this has an end?

ACHILLES: That idea had certainly never occurred to me. And if things are like you say, what will happen once we get to the finish line?

TORTOISE: We will cease to exist, clearly, for our aim would be accomplished and Zeno won’t need us anymore.

ACHILLES: Oh Zeus! This is like awakening from a nice dream and realizing reality is so awfully complex and tough. I have no courage to face this: I will just keep running. That is, for sure, much easier and more confortable than being enlightened.

TORTOISE: It is indeed, my friend, as you say. But, should you keep running, you would miss the beauty of the flowers, the freshness of the grass and the singing of the birds. Isn’t all that good enough to compensate for the bitterness of knowing we don’t know?

ACHILLES: Now that you mention it, running on the grass would be extremely satisfactory, if it were possible to do such unimaginable thing…

TORTOISE: My dear Achilles, worry not! The only thing you need to get off the track is your decision to do so.

ACHILLES: But what if I decide badly and go the wrong way? Tell me, please friend, which is the right path to enlightenment.

TORTOISE: I am sorry Achilles, but you are adult now and you have to take responsibility. But I assure you, nonetheless, that, regardless of where you go, you will be enlightened if you watch your step and think about the things around you.

ACHILLES: So observing carefully is enough to be enlightened?

TORTOISE: Not really, my friend. You will also need to recognize the things that need to be fixed and, once you do it, fix them too. Also, it is necessary that you be ready to change your path at any moment…

ACHILLES: Change again?!

TORTOISE: Indeed, change all the time and create new ways. There are no real tracks…

ACHILLES: If there are no real tracks, how do you know that the being enlightened is the right choice?

TORTOISE: Oh friend, you surprise me gratefully: that is really an enlightened question! And the answer is that you cannot know. But watching your step is being rational and once we are rational we never choose to live dumbly again, even though that could bring easy happiness. Not thinking, as you said, is like being asleep and enlightenment means waking up to live conscious of the present.

ACHILLES: I see your point, Tortoise. And will be enlightened help me avoid my death?

TORTOISE: No, Achilles, we will die anyway. But living will have been worth it!

ACHILLES: How can it be worth it if we still don’t know why we are running and where we are going?

TORTOISE: But we do know we do not know! And, thus, we can try to make sense of the world around us and of ourselves as well.

Achilles closes his eyes and thinks for a moment. After a while, he speaks again.

ACHILLES: Why do I have to believe everything you say?

TORTOISE: You don’t have to; you are on your own. But I see you are growing up: you are watching your step now.

In that moment, they see two runners heading towards them.

ACHILLES: It seems we have company, Tortoise. We must enlighten them!

TORTOISE: Without doubt, trying that would be pointless –and, if it wasn’t, we would have to enlighten everyone in the world, an impossible task to accomplish.

ACHILLES: Are you sure we cannot free them from the track? I feel now morally obliged to enlighten people…

But suddenly, the runners stop and stand still scratching their heads.

TORTOISE: They stopped! That is awkward indeed.

ACHILLES: I think they have seen us: enlightenment is contagious!

TORTOISE: This, I must say, comes as a big surprise to me: I thought affecting others was not possible. See what I mean! There is always something new; always doubt, my friend, even of your deepest convictions.

After some minutes of thinking in silence and looking around them, the tortoise continues.

TORTOISE: So, Achilles, have you decided which way to go now?

ACHILLES: Actually, I have; do you see that mountain over there? Climbing it would give us an excellent view of everything around. Perhaps that would help us understand better where we are and where we are going.

TORTOISE: Excellent choice, my friend. After you!

And so Achilles steps on the grass, heading to climb the first of many mountains.

Maximiliano Isi