Presentations-
Connor Sundling-__ . Jacquez Caldwell-herd mentality
Kaag 83-119
- Coming soon... go ahead and post your questions & comments (preferably by mid-day Monday)
Supporting the study of Existentialism at Middle Tennessee State University, and beyond. PHIL 4200 – Existentialism (3 credit hours)-"The nature, significance, and application of the teachings of several outstanding existential thinkers."
Presentations-
Connor Sundling-__ . Jacquez Caldwell-herd mentality
Kaag 83-119
Kaag 37-80
John sought "Nietzschean transcendence" in his two Swiss pilgrimages, first as a teenager and later in middle age.
He found something more sustainable (if also more honestly equivocal) in William James's pragmatism. Is life worth living? Maybe. It's up to you. Your choice. That's as existential an answer as can be.
Starting Sep 10 you can indicate your preference (in the comments' space of this post) for the topic and date of your report presentation. It can be on any relevant topic of your choice that you can relate to the reading assignments (required or recommended) on the corresponding date. Presentations will begin on the 15th. We'll do two or three presentations per class, hoping to finish before Fall Break. I'll give you a free base or two on the scorecard if you volunteer to present on the 15th.
Take a look ahead at the coming syllabus assignments (reprinted below). Scan the assigned texts and select your topic accordingly. You do not have to cover everything, just anything you can plausibly relate to something in that day's assigned material. Also scan the lists of recommended books in the right sidebar, to see if you would like to use any of them as a basis for your report. If the library does not have the text(s) you choose, go to the circulation desk and request via inter-library loan.
Have fun with the project. Be creative. Consider using the podcast/video resources in the library's MakerSpace to prepare your presentation. Plan to present for about 10 minutes, with the goal of teaching us something we wouldn't have learned merely reading the assignment. Then lead a brief class discussion. Don't stress, you'll get all 25 available points if you fulfill these minimal criteria.
6 - Exam
8 - Cafe (At the Existentialist Cafe by Sarah Bakewell) Ch1-2. Spyridon Hale-ch1
Midterm report presentations begin
Kaag
https://youtu.be/eEVMAGLe73I?is=Uc-lTMIR_ISMaPPe
From The Joyful Wisdom (aka The Gay Science)-
**341. The Heaviest Burden.—
What if a demon crept after thee into thy loneliest loneliness some day or night, and said to thee: "This life, as thou livest it at present, and hast lived it, thou must live it once more, and also innumerable times; and there will be nothing new in it, but every pain and every joy and every thought and every sigh, and all the unspeakably small and great in thy life must come to thee again, and all in the same series and sequence—and similarly this spider and this moonlight among the trees, and similarly this moment, and I myself. The eternal sand-glass of existence will ever be turned once more, and thou with it, thou speck of dust!"—Wouldst thou not throw thyself down and gnash thy teeth, and curse the demon that so spake? Or hast thou once experienced a tremendous moment in which thou wouldst answer him: "Thou art a God, and never did I hear aught more divine!" If that thought acquired power over thee, as thou art, it would transform thee, and perhaps crush thee; the question with regard to all and everything: "Dost thou want this once more, and also for innumerable times?" would lie as the heaviest burden upon thy activity! Or, how wouldst thou have to become favourably inclined to thyself and to life, so as to long for nothing more ardently than for this last eternal sanctioning and sealing?—
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Falling Out With Superman
by Gary Kamiya
I stumbled upon Friedrich Nietzsche when I was 17, following the usual trail of existential candies -- Camus, Sartre, Beckett -- that unsuspecting teenagers find in the woods. The effect was more like a drug than a philosophy. I was whirled upward -- or was it downward? -- into a one-man universe, a secret cult demanding that you put a gun to the head of your dearest habits and beliefs. That intoxicating whiff of half-conscious madness; that casually hair-raising evisceration of everything moral, responsible and parentally approved -- these waves overwhelmed my adolescent dinghy. And even more than by his ideas -- many of which I didn't understand at all, but some of which I perhaps grasped better then than I do now -- I was seduced by his prose. At the end of his sentences you could hear an electric crack, like the whip of a steel blade being tested in the air. He might have been the Devil, but he had better lines than God.
I was sold. Like those German soldiers in World War I who were found dead with copies of ''Thus Spake Zarathustra'' in their pockets, I hauled my tattered purple-covered copy of the Viking Portable Nietzsche with me everywhere. It was with me when I dropped out of college after a semester to go work in a shipyard, with me years later when, sitting on a knoll on a tiny island off Vancouver, I decided to wake up from my dream of total escape and go back to school. I read him to elevate myself, to punish myself, to remind myself of the promises I had broken. He was the closest thing I had to a church.
Eventually, I stopped going to church. There were various reasons for this, some of them good and some of them not; I couldn't sort out which was which then, and can't now. Maybe it was just satiation. The philosopher John Searle once told me that reading Nietzsche was like drinking cognac -- a sip was good, but you didn't want to drink the whole bottle. I'd been pounding Nietzsche by the case.
So I left Nietzsche alone on his mountaintop. But as every lapsed believer knows, you never wholly escape the church. Nietzsche had come to stand for something absolute and pure, like gilded Byzantium or Ahab's whale; he represented what I imagined I might have been. He had become a permanent horizon.
Oddly, during this long, strange love affair, I avoided learning much about Nietzsche's life. Maybe this was because I had turned him into a shrine -- after all, totems have no history. I knew only the superficials: that he was a desperately lonely man, poor and largely unread, plagued by bad health, who went mad at the age of 44.
Then, last summer, I planned a trip to Switzerland. As a highlight, I decided to visit Sils-Maria -- the small village near St. Moritz where Nietzsche spent seven summers and wrote many of his masterpieces. The tourist soon won out over the iconoclast: now that I was going to stand where the Master stood, I couldn't pretend I didn't care about how he lived, what people he liked, what he wore. So I immersed myself in various biographical accounts: ''Nietzsche in Turin,'' Lesley Chamberlain's psychologically penetrating book about the philosopher's final year; Ronald Hayman's challenging ''Nietzsche: A Critical Life''; and a book that only a Nietzsche cultist would consume, ''The Good European: Nietzsche's Work Sites in Word and Image.''
It wasn't the grand narrative of his life but the details that stayed with me. The joke photograph in which he and his friend Paul Ree posed in a cart over which Lou Salome, the 21-year-old woman with whom he was timidly, desperately in love, held a whip. Nietzsche in the Caligari-shadowed last days of his sanity, once again turning himself into a character in an unhappy novel, lamenting that a journey was ''perhaps the most unfortunate I have made'' simply because he had climbed aboard the wrong train. The fact that he liked ''Tom Sawyer.'' The solicitude of an old female friend who tried to buck him up but was unable to teach him not to let everything wound him. The visitor who simply reported how much he liked Herr Nietzsche, the lonely, earnest professor with the bad eyes.
This wasn't the Nietzsche I remembered. The philosopher I had worshiped was an uncanny hybrid, simultaneously a terrifying Old Testament prophet and a 19th-century free spirit. To be sure, much of Nietzsche -- maybe the best of him -- was as lucid, critical and quick-footed as Stendhal. Yet it was the monstrous doctrines at the heart of his thought -- the Overman, the Eternal Recurrence -- that had drawn me; they hypnotized me because I couldn't figure out whether they were coming from man or some frightening gospel. Now that I understood how much of Nietzsche's work was an attempt to turn his personal torment into something lasting, I realized that perhaps those enigmatic pronouncements were best seen not as antitruths handed down from on high, but as words he whispered to himself, beacons he lighted in the darkness to cheer himself up. What was great in Nietzsche was not, I began to see, his holiness, maybe not even his wisdom. It was his courage.
Then I went to Sils.
Sils-Maria is a bland one-horse resort village under spectacular mountains between two crystalline lakes. Terminally respectable Swiss burghers polish their vacation homes; tourists (''They climb mountains like animals, stupid and sweating,'' Nietzsche wrote) fill the hotels. The Nietzsche-Haus stands near the center. In his day it was a tea and spice shop whose owner rented an upstairs room to Nietzsche; now it is a museum. In front of the tidy white-and-green building stands a sculpture of a large black eagle -- one of the companions that consoled Zarathustra in his last loneliness. On a gray afternoon I pulled open the door and climbed the stairs to his room.
No one was there. I looked in. A small, low-ceilinged room, walls of knotty pine. A lumpy-looking bed. A small table with a green silk cover. A washbasin. A single window, looking out onto a patch of the forest.
We go to literary shrines to touch things. We run our fingers along the writing table, we furtively step over the red velvet rope and finger the water jug by the edge of the bed. Yet to feel the pedestal is to call the very idea of the pedestal into question. Which is why there is something comic in all pilgrimages: while Don Quixote holds loftily forth, Sancho Panza steals the ashtray.
But as I ran my fingertips along the knotty pine, it all rose up: the indelible words that had been created here; the misery of the man who had shivered out his life in this room; and all the years I had spent charting my course by a dream. Standing outside in the hallway, I was surprised to find myself beginning to weep, like the most breast-heaving pilgrim. A familiar voice, very old and once sacred to me, protested. I could not pity Nietzsche. It was a betrayal of everything he had believed. He had railed against pity. Compassion was for the hearth-huddlers, the followers, those who lacked the strength to turn themselves into ''dancing stars.'' The last temptation of the higher man, Nietzsche had taught, was pity; on its far side was a roaring, Dionysian, inhuman laughter. I could recite this chapter and verse, but I had never been able to live it. It was the most alien and terrifying of Nietzsche's teachings. Still, long reverence pulled me up short. Here, of all places, I must feel no pity.
But my heart won the war. Maybe it was resignation -- the final acceptance that I was not going to forge myself into a new shape. Maybe it was weariness with a doctrine, with all doctrines, that sounded delirious but that couldn't be used. Whatever it was, I stopped fighting. Yes, part of Nietzsche would always stand far above the tree line, and I would treasure that iciness. But I had to walk on the paths where I could go.
Still confused, I stood in the doorway. And then, as a gift, the following words came into my head, words spoken by Zarathustra to his disciples, disciples that Nietzsche himself never had. ''You revere me; but what if your reverence tumbles one day? Beware lest a statue slay you. You say you believe in Zarathustra? But what matters Zarathustra? . . . Now I bid you lose me and find yourselves; and only when you have all denied me will I return to you.''
I took a last look at the room. Then I walked out the door.
Gary Kamiya is executive editor of the online magazine Salon.com. https://archive.nytimes.com/www.nytimes.com/books/00/01/23/bookend/bookend.html
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***
“One of the strangest yet most intriguing aspects of Friedrich Nietzsche’s ideas is his repeated enthusiasm for a concept that he called amor fati (translated from Latin as ‘a love of one’s fate’, or as we might put it, a resolute, enthusiastic acceptance of everything that has happened in one’s life). The person of amor fati doesn’t seek to erase anything of their past, but rather accepts what has occurred, the good and the bad, the mistaken and the wise, with strength and an all-embracing gratitude that borders on a kind of enthusiastic affection…”You can read more on this and other subjects here: https://goo.gl/cDu7stMORE SCHOOL OF LIFE Watch more films on CURRICULUM in our playlist: http://bit.ly/2bVcNyy
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# Gymnasiums of the Mind (excerpt)
"Followers of the Greek Aristotle were known as peripatetics because they passed their days strolling and mind-wrestling through the groves of the Academe. The Romans’ equally high opinion of walking was summed up pithily in the Latin proverb: “It is solved by walking.” Nearly every philosopher-poet worth his salt has voiced similar sentiments. Erasmus recommended a little walk before supper and “after supper do the same.” Thomas Hobbes had an inkwell built into his walking stick to more easily jot down his brainstorms during his rambles. Jean- Jacques Rousseau claimed he could only meditate when walking: “When I stop, I cease to think,” he said. “My mind only works with my legs.” Søren Kierkegaard believed he’d walked himself into his best thoughts. In his brief life Henry David Thoreau walked an estimated 250,000 miles, or ten times the circumference of earth. “I think that I cannot preserve my health and spirits,” wrote Thoreau, “unless I spend four hours a day at least – and it is commonly more than that – sauntering through the woods and over the hills and fields absolutely free from worldly engagements.” Thoreau’s landlord and mentor Ralph Waldo Emerson characterized walking as “gymnastics for the mind...” --Christopher Orlet, Philosophy Now
Ex'sm ch5-6
Structuralism arose on the continent, in particular in France, in the early 60s. The first ‘big name’ was Claude Lévi-Strauss, an anthropologist, who took on Jean-Paul Sartre, the leading French intellectual and philosopher of the time, and didn’t so much win, as went unanswered (which from Sartre’s point of view was worse). Here was France’s main philosopher, Sartre, who usually had something to say about everything, being attacked in Lévi-Strauss’ The Savage Mind, and yet not replying! The implication was that he couldn’t reply, and the intellectual mood began to move towards Lévi-Strauss’ intellectual position, which he called structuralism.
A simple explanation of structuralism is that it understands phenomena using the metaphor of language. That is, we can understand language as a system, or structure, which defines itself in terms of itself. There is no language ‘behind’ language with which we understand it, no metalanguage to explain what language means. Instead it is a self-referential system. Words explain words explain words (as in a dictionary), and meaning is present as a set of structures... John Mann, Philosophy Now
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A fun new book on the post-Existential era of French thought:
The Frenchmen:Ex'm ch3-4
Here’s the reading list. There are infinite good ways to teach Existentialism, and this reading list is pretty canon... https://substack.com/@skyecleary/note/c-327678948?r=35ogp&utm_medium=ios&utm_source=notes-share-action
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Sep 8:
One of the most common college courses for Philosophy PhDs in the US who specialize in European philosophy to be asked to teach is Existentialism.1 I was asked to teach it for the first time in Fall 2017 at Scripps College, a stone’s throw from where I currently teach. At the time, it sounded fun, but I didn’t think I agreed by and large with Existentialism. Sure, I worked on Simone de Beauvoir, one of the most famous existentialist thinkers, but I didn’t really work on Sartre or any of the other well-known existentialist guys. I had the impression, like a lot of people coming out of my graduate program, that existentialism was a teenage boy philosophy: cute for a phase when you needed to stake your independence, but immature after a certain point. (This is one surprising feature of academic philosophy: Existentialism is a commonly-taught course but is currently unpopular among scholars of Continental European philosophy.)
Teaching that course changed things for me: it planted the seeds for my becoming an existentialist. As I read and re-read material from Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, Sartre, Beauvoir, and more, I started to see that most of the philosophy I liked best - from the post-existential period of French philosophy often referred to under the umbrella of poststructuralism - was already in some sense in existentialism. But what’s more, existentialism tackled head-on the ethical and political issues to which poststructuralism often paid lip service but never quite seemed to satisfyingly address. The following summer, at sea about what was next for me professionally when the prospect of a tenure-track job seemed completely out of reach, I did little other than read Being and Nothingness cover to cover. It got in my bones, and I followed it up a few years later with a reread of Being and Time. My academic course changed and I found myself swapping the Derrida and Butler for Sartre and Kierkegaard. I also found that there’s a lot of excellent contemporary analytic existential philosophy (which I previously would have discounted as a contradiction in terms), among which I would count Christine Korsgaard’s Sources of Normativity, Richard Moran’s Authority and Estrangement, and Matthew Boyle’s Transparency and Reflection.
As a result, I got interested in reviving existential philosophy within my subfield of Continental European philosophy. To that end, I wrote a book, which will come out next summer in my favorite philosophy series, arguing that phenomenology (which is a popular subfield relative to existentialism) should be existential phenomenology. It’s a book about the self, but this methodological argument is key to it.
I’ve continued to teach Existentialism every couple of years since, often tweaking my syllabus. In particular, I love how existentialism was very much a public-facing philosophy movement in twentieth-century France: its participants didn’t just write treatises but also plays, novels, public speeches, magazine articles, political journals, and so forth. Sarah Bakewell’s book At the Existentialist Cafe does an excellent job of painting a picture of this landscape. So I’ve sometimes included public-facing assignments for my college students such as social media threads, videos, and posts.
But the core reading list has remained, and I’m sharing it here with my Substack subscribers over the next few months along with a series of video lectures, audio recordings, and other material. I don’t think this is the only possible reading list for Existentialism, but I do think it works well for introducing some core influential ideas that speak to one another, and giving students a solid basis in texts that are often difficult to understand on one’s own (and which they can then follow up on with other texts that are more accessible)...
NO CLASS TODAY, and no new questions... spend some more time with Tuesday's, if you like; and take some time to investigate your midterm report presentation possibilities. You can make a specific topic request on Sep 10.
[Substack]
We were talking (talking, nota bene) the other day about the limits of language, and William James's sense of the "glimmer and twinkle" of something in "the living act of perception," something that language cannot catch but that honest philosophers must acknowledge. I'll be curious to see if the Existentialists share a similar skepticism towards those who uncritically accept our human ability to know reality verbally. The post-existentialist structuralists, post-structuralists, deconstructionists, theoretical psychoanalysts, Derrideans et al definitely do not. (Or maybe it would be better to say they don't really buy into the idea that "reality" names something nonverbal.) Derrida famously said “Il n’y a pas de hors-texte” ("there is no outside-the-text"), a view James would find laughable. Me too.
I was reminded of this while reading Emily Eakin's new memoir/history of those post-existentialists, The Frenchmen. At the end of chapter 27 she writes of Jacques Lacan (1901-1981):
...he'd scrubbed his work of any residue of biology or Darwin... there were fewer and fewer allusions to the world of things. Lacan had abandoned Earth for the theoretical firmament. [A critic wrote:] '...when I read his work I can't help thinking, 'Words, words, words.'
And at the beginning of chapter 28:
Words, words, words indeed. You'd be hard pressed to come up with a better slogan for the decade [of the fifties in French philosophy].
Ha! In 1892 William James had written:
What an awful trade that of professor is—paid to talk, talk, talk! I have seen artists growing pale and sick whilst I talked to them without being able to stop. And I loved them for not being able to love me any better. It would be an awful universe if everything could be converted into words, words, words. --Letters I, Dec 28
And in Pragmatism III (1907) be wrote:
The really vital question for us all is, What is this world going to be? What is life eventually to make of itself? The centre of gravity of philosophy must therefore alter its place. The earth of things, long thrown into shadow by the glories of the upper ether, must resume its rights. To shift the emphasis in this way means that philosophic questions will fall to be treated by minds of a less abstractionist type than heretofore, minds more scientific and individualistic in their tone yet not irreligious either. It will be an alteration in 'the seat of authority' that reminds one almost of the protestant reformation.
James loved words too. He just didn't think they crowd out nature and the rest of the unverbalized fields of our experience. As Shakespeare's Prince Hamlet said: “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” So WJ would say to Lacan and his logorrheic peers.
Again, try to post at least three questions and/or comments, PRIOR to class, pertaining to today's reading. Try formulating discussion-oriented, open-ended questions related to these mostly-factual questions about the contents of our text.
Ex'm ch1-2
Always try to post at least three pertinent comments and/or questions about the assigned reading PRIOR to each class, in the comments space below my questions. I'll show you in class how to claim participation credit on the daily scorecard for doing so.
Your comments and questions can (but need not) respond to my dated questions, which will provide the content of our exams.
Not many questions today, we'll take some time before discussing them for you to introduce yourselves.
Existentialism: A Very Short Introduction by T. Flynn (Ex'm) preface
Presentations- Connor Sundling-__ . Jacquez Caldwell-herd mentality Kaag 83-119 Coming soon... go ahead and post your questions & comm...