Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Being and Nothingness
"Nothingness lies coiled in the heart of being--like a worm." Jean-Paul Sartre, Being and Nothingness, trans. Hazel E. Barnes, 56.
Being "calls" to us from non-being, but only in the most attenuated sense. Apprehending what is (or appears to be) opens the door to speculation as to its negation and/or what it occludes or lacks. The perception of depth or three dimensionality creates expectations of surplus: what is inside or lies on the other side of this object? The "encounter" with absence spurs the imagination: it is the impetus of the fictional mode we call "metaphysics."
Ontological speculation involves the testing of our perceptual limitations: it is an exercise of human freedom--the freedom to interrogate our given environment and to discover (or invent for it) new interiors and new surfaces. Every exercise of human freedom is, ipso facto, an instance of human freedom--evidence that human beings are, despite all circumscription, in some genuine sense, free.
In what sense? Here, Peter Berger demonstrates himself an acute interpreter of Sartre:
"... the dramatic model of society at which we have arrived now does not deny that the actors on the stage are constrained by all the external controls set up by the impresario and the internal ones of the role itself. All the same, they have options--of playing their parts enthusiastically or sullenly, of playing with inner conviction or with 'distance,' and, sometimes, of refusing to play at all. Looking at society through the medium of this dramatic model greatly changes our general sociological perspective. Social reality now seems to be precariously perched on the cooperation of many individual actors--or perhaps a better simile would be that of acrobats engaged in perilous balancing acts, holding up between them the swaying structure of the social world" (Peter L. Berger, Invitation to Sociology, 138).
Every exercise of hermeneutics offers an opportunity to enact human freedom. Likewise, every deviation from the script of one's social role opens new possibilities in a given life.
Nothing comes from nothing. Nothing may also come from something and, from that "somethinged" nothing, may come something new.
Monday, April 9, 2012
From Kenneth Burke to Peter L. Berger
"The general perspective that is interwoven with our methodology of analysis might be summarily characterized as a theory of drama. We propose to take ritual drama as the Ur-form, the 'hub,' with all other aspects of human action treated as spokes radiating from this hub. That is, the social sphere is considered in terms of situations and acts, in contrast with the physical sphere, which is considered in mechanistic terms, idealized as a flat cause-and-effect or stimulus-and-response relationship. Ritual drama is considered as the culminating form, from this point of view, and any other form is to be considered as the 'efficient' overstressing of one or another of the ingredients found in ritual drama. An essayistic treatise of scientific cast, for instance, would be viewed as a kind of Hamletic soliloquy, its rhythm slowed down to a snail's pace, or perhaps to an irregular jog, and the dramatic situation of which it is a part usually being left unmentioned" (Kenneth Burke, The Philosophy of Literary Form, 3rd edition, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1973, 103).
Kenneth Burke published the first edition of The Philosophy of Literary Form in 1941. In 1963, a young sociologist by the name of Peter L. Berger (b. 1939) published his thoroughly (but perhaps unknowingly) Burkean Invitation to Sociology: A Humanistic Perspective (New York: Doubleday). Fortunately, I read Berger long before I read Burke--for Burke's labyrinthine and neologism-filled writing style can make reading him quite a struggle. Berger's books (I've read and re-read at least a half-dozen of them over the years) made the assimilation of Burke's Dramatism fairly effortless. Moreover, his work with Thomas Luckmann on the social construction of reality provided a foundation for the sociological perspective I adopted as an undergraduate and have never abandoned.
The move from Ontologism to Dramatism (accomplished by Burke and further articulated by Berger--following not Burke, I take it, but Erving Goffman) involves a Wittgensteinian asceticism that requires resolution to maintain. The call of Being buzzes incessantly in one's ears (witness Heidegger). But, as Wittgenstein taught us, the sheer mystery of Being eludes all speech. And while it is difficult to reconcile oneself to apophasis in matters that one considers to be of paramount importance, the alternative is, more often than not, sheer muddle.
Dramatism does not eliminate Ontologism: it preserves it through the description of setting or scene. Thus preserved, Being is relegated to Michael Polanyi's "tacit dimension." The effort to make the tacit explicit is a critical one; it is also, as Wittgenstein remarked, "like trying to repair a spider's web with one's fingers."
Wittgenstein felt that Tolstoy was less successful in communicating his own apprehension of the tacit dimension when he attempted to make it explicit; some things, he thought, were better left unsaid. In a letter to Norman Malcolm, Wittgenstein had this to say about Tolstoy's late novel Resurrection:
"You see, when Tolstoy tells a story he impresses me infinitely more than when he addresses the reader. When he turns his back to the reader then he seems to me most impressive ... It seems to me his philosophy is most true when it's latent in the story" (Norman Malcolm, Ludwig Wittgenstein: A Memoir, OUP, 1984, p. 97).
Peter Berger's Dramatism suggests that the attribution of metaphysical properties to socially constructed identities (e.g., "white," "black," "male," "female," "Jew," "Gentile") is fraught with peril: "all such appellations become exercises in [Sartrean] 'bad faith' as soon as they are charged with ontological implications" (Berger, Invitation to Sociology, 157). I could not agree more.
Nevertheless, Berger stops short of adopting Wittgenstein's Tractarian admonition "whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent." He does not banish the posing of metaphysical questions--for to do so results in an unwitting acceptance of the answers that our socially constructed reality provides--and this, for Berger, is to arrive at "bad faith" from a different direction. The posing of "metaphysical" questions, i.e., questions designed to interrogate the inevitability of the inherited status quo, is to exercise one's freedom. And to exercise one's freedom is, to borrow from Aristotle, to actualize a metaphysical potentiality (see Invitation chapter 6).
This view is similar in tenor to Tolstoy's death-bed assertion that "God is not love, but the more love there is, the more man reveals God, the more he truly exists."
The conversion of the potential into the actual, of fiction into fact, is the ineluctable and ethically charged "call of Being."
Despite our best intentions, we often find our way back to Heidegger. Berger's use of the German philosopher, like Sartre's, was both skillful and sparing. Would that we all had such tact!
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
The Dark Side of Dramatism
Kenneth Burke's Dramatistic mode of analysis will always face stiff resistance--even from those whom it might benefit--because, in the shadows of this way of thinking, lurks a (further) Shakespearean apprehension:
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing. Macbeth 5:5.
What the French playwright and humanist Albert Camus termed "lucidity," i.e., the ability to grasp, without flinching, the human condition as theater and, therefore, in all likelihood, as a "tale told by an idiot," is simply too much for most people to bear.
Burke was able to parry the breaking of this absurd dawn throughout his long life by means of intense intellectual work punctuated by equally intense bouts of binge drinking.
Tolstoy's well-known aversion to Shakespeare was a complicated affair, but one suspects that he sensed how full acceptance of the Bard into his consciousness would court the temptation to suicide--already fierce within him.
In the final analysis, however, Tolstoy's "solution" to the "problem" of finding meaning in meaninglessness was to harness the vocabulary of theism in a manner not unlike Camus's vocabulary of nature. There is a sobriety about the resolutions of both men that reflects a Dramatistic apprehension of the human predicament.
Ethically, speaking, both men reached the conclusion that, if this life is but a series of acts and scenes, let us learn to play our parts (conduct ourselves) with grace, decorum, courage and, above all, candor.
The "dark side" of Dramatism ensues when one is blinded by the light.
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