Philosophy Explained With Donuts

philosophy donuts

We’ve all seen them, on the board­walks of Venice Beach or of the Jer­sey Shore: poop-joke t‑shirts that state the gist of var­i­ous world reli­gions or philoso­phies by ref­er­ence to the afore­men­tioned bod­i­ly func­tion. Clever they aren’t, but the form adapts to anoth­er, more taste­ful for­mu­la­tion (pun most def­i­nite­ly intend­ed) in the list above, which briefly describes the philo­soph­i­cal pro­grams of six­teen promi­nent West­ern thinkers with ref­er­ence to that uni­ver­sal­ly beloved food, the donut. To wit: pre-Socrat­ic Greek philoso­pher Her­a­cli­tus gets summed up with “You can’t eat the same donut twice,” a twist on one of his famous few apho­risms. Lud­wig Wittgen­stein’s phi­los­o­phy becomes an ellip­ti­cal series of pos­si­ble donuts in var­i­ous lan­guage games: “Fried Pas­try, Zero, Park­ing lot spin, Spare tire.” And so on.

No need to point out the over­sim­pli­fi­ca­tion inher­ent in this strat­e­gy; that’s kind of the point. It’s a joke, after all, but one the author—whoever that is—clearly intends as a means of break­ing the ice and get­ting down to more seri­ous explo­rations. But what if the donut is the seri­ous explo­ration? Such is the case in a 2001 arti­cle pub­lished in the jour­nal Basic Objects: Case Stud­ies in The­o­ret­i­cal Prim­i­tives by Colum­bia phi­los­o­phy pro­fes­sor Achille C. Varzi.

Sim­ply titled (in the British spelling) “Dough­nuts,” Varzi’s paper explores the donut, or “torus” in the lan­guage of topog­ra­phers, as a the­o­ret­i­cal object for an onto­log­i­cal thought exper­i­ment. In short, he asks whether or not we can say that the donut hole is an actu­al exist­ing enti­ty or sim­ply a fig­ure of speech, a “façon de par­ler.” In the tra­di­tion­al view, that of the topog­ra­phers, who prac­tice “a sort of rub­bery geom­e­try…. The only thing that mat­ters is the edi­ble stuff. The hole is a mere façon de par­ler.”

On anoth­er, more three-dimen­sion­al view of the rela­tion­ship “between void and mat­ter,” things look dif­fer­ent: “We must be very seri­ous about treat­ing them [donut holes] as ful­ly-fledged enti­ties, on a par with the mate­r­i­al objects that sur­round them.” The real exis­tence of the hole can­not be eas­i­ly dis­missed with­out run­ning into a prob­lem, “the dilem­ma of every elim­i­na­tive strat­e­gy: if suc­cess­ful, it ends up elim­i­nat­ing every­thing just in order to elim­i­nate noth­ings.” No hole, no donut. (Though, as Simone De Beau­voir appar­ent­ly rec­og­nized, “Patri­archy is respon­si­ble for the shape of the donut.”) The donut hole the­sis also forms part of the argu­ment in an aca­d­e­m­ic phi­los­o­phy paper from 2012 enti­tled “Being Pos­i­tive About Neg­a­tive Facts” from Phi­los­o­phy & Phe­nom­e­no­log­i­cal Research. On the way to show­ing that “neg­a­tive facts exist in the usu­al sense of exis­tence,” authors Stephen Bark­er and Mark Jago, both of the Uni­ver­si­ty of Not­ting­ham, come to sim­i­lar con­clu­sions about the donut, with ref­er­ence to ear­li­er work by Varzi:

Holes pose some­thing of a philo­soph­i­cal quandary and, per­haps as a result of their mys­tery, are often treat­ed as imma­te­r­i­al enti­ties (Casati and Varzi 1994). Yet we seem to be able to per­ceive holes, gaps, dents and the like. The view of holes as imma­te­r­i­al objects is, we think, very much in line with think­ing of the neg­a­tive as the meta­phys­i­cal­ly undead. Giv­en our accep­tance of neg­a­tive facts, we can offer a sto­ry about holes on which they are mate­r­i­al enti­ties. If there is a donut hole then there is a spa­tial region involv­ing the instan­ti­a­tion of donut-dough which is inti­mate­ly con­nect­ed with an absence there­of.

Make of these claims what you will, but I think what we see in both essays is that seri­ous inter­est in a friv­o­lous object can pro­duce illu­mi­nat­ing dis­cus­sion. That describes the the­sis of the site Improb­a­ble Research, who bring us both of these donut exam­ples; their motto—“Research that makes peo­ple LAUGH and then THINK.” I don’t know if either essay—or even the donut joke at the top of the page—really makes for ha-ha laughs so much, but these argu­ments about the mate­r­i­al exis­tence of the imma­te­r­i­al space of donut holes cer­tain­ly chal­lenged my think­ing.

via Improb­a­ble Research

Relat­ed Con­tents:

140+ Free Online Phi­los­o­phy Cours­es

Phi­los­o­phy Ref­er­ee Hand Sig­nals

Mon­ty Python’s Best Phi­los­o­phy Sketch­es

The Epis­te­mol­o­gy of Dr. Seuss & More Phi­los­o­phy Lessons from Great Children’s Sto­ries

The His­to­ry of Phi­los­o­phy, from 600 B.C.E. to 1935, Visu­al­ized in Two Mas­sive, 44-Foot High Dia­grams

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Judy!: 1993 Judith Butler Fanzine Gives Us An Irreverent Punk-Rock Take on the Post-Structuralist Gender Theorist

Judy! One

Punk rock and its accoutrements—including the hand­made, Xerox­ed ‘zine—pass into his­to­ry, replaced by Tay­lor Swift and Snapchat, or what­ev­er. But as a piece of his­to­ry, the ‘zine will always stand as a mark­er of a par­tic­u­lar era, of the 80s/early 90s explo­sion of crit­i­cal con­scious­ness fos­tered by young kids read­ing Niet­zsche, Fou­cault, and Camus, then form­ing their own bands, labels, and net­works. Cru­cial to the peri­od is the emer­gence of Riot Grrrl bands like Biki­ni Kill and their assault on oppres­sive gen­der pol­i­tics, in punk rock and every­where else. And cru­cial to many such punks’ under­stand­ing of gen­der was the work of crit­i­cal the­o­rist Judith But­ler.

“Riot Grrrl didn’t her­ald the begin­nings of third wave fem­i­nism,” writes Sophia Satchell Baeza in Can­vas, “we’ll give that to the emer­gence of post-struc­tural­ist Queer the­o­ry, and the work of Judith Butler—but it did help define it aes­thet­i­cal­ly as much as for­mal­ly for a new gen­er­a­tion of indig­nant fem­i­nists.” An essen­tial part of that aesthetic—the ‘zine—spread the tenets of Riot Grrrl anger, deter­mi­na­tion, and irony to cities far and wide. And, in 1993, a group of intel­lec­tu­al scen­esters cre­at­ed the ulti­mate punk homage to Butler’s unde­ni­able influ­ence: Judy!, an hon­est-to-good­ness Judith But­ler fanzine, com­plete with murky, mimeo­graphed pho­to spreads and ser­i­al killer type­script. (See the cov­er at the top, with pho­to of Judy Gar­land.) “Let’s talk about that real glam­our gal of the­o­ry, Judy But­ler,” begins one free-form intro­duc­to­ry essay.

She’s espe­cial­ly good to see live, if you can. Her per­for­mances are rife with wit­ty repar­tee about her mom or what­ev­er and the three times I’ve seen her, she’s been sport­ing lit­tle tai­lored black jack­ets. She’s a bit Gap but she’s still a fox.

This cav­a­lier hip­ster tone hides the voice of a like­ly grad stu­dent, who men­tions M.L.A. (the Mod­ern Lan­guage Association’s con­fer­ence), and oth­er post-struc­tural­ist the­o­rists like Gay­a­tri Spi­vak, Eve Sedg­wick, and Julia Kris­te­va. There are foot­notes and ref­er­ences to Butler’s clas­sic Gen­der Trou­ble amidst much more irrev­er­ent, cat­ty rhetoric like “Judy is the num­ber one dom­i­na­tor, and the only thing you or I can do is sub­mit glad­ly.” It’s great fun, if that’s what you’re into—and if you get the com­bo of ‘zine aes­thet­ic and aca­d­e­m­ic fem­i­nist the­o­ry. There’s even a quiz to test your knowl­edge of the lat­ter’s high priest­ess pro­fes­sors and inscrutable argot: “are you a the­o­ry-fetishiz­ing bis­cuit­head?”

As much as it know­ing­ly pokes fun at itself, in both form and con­tent the arti­fact rep­re­sents a per­fect hybridiza­tion of street­wise mid-nineties punk rock and chal­leng­ing mid-nineties high fem­i­nist the­o­ry. Cen­tral to the lat­ter, Judith But­ler chal­lenges cul­tur­al norms in ways that very much inform our pop­u­lar under­stand­ing of gen­der and sex­u­al­i­ty today. And ‘zine cul­ture, though it may appear most­ly in muse­ums and ret­ro­spec­tives these days, lives on in spir­it in the work of hip, cul­tur­al mavens like Rook­ie’s Tavi Gevin­son. Above, see But­ler dis­cuss her the­o­ry of gen­der per­for­ma­tiv­i­ty. And Read the entire issue of Judy!, the fanzine, here.

Judy! Two

via Pro­gres­sive Geo­gra­phies

Read Chez Fou­cault, the 1978 Fanzine That Intro­duced Stu­dents to the Rad­i­cal French Philoso­pher

44 Essen­tial Movies for the Stu­dent of Phi­los­o­phy

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness.

How Can I Know Anything at All? BBC Animations Feature the Philosophy of Wittgenstein, Hume, Popper & More

How did every­thing begin? What makes us human? What is the self? How do I live a good life? What is love? We’ve all asked these ques­tions, if only with­in our heads, and recent­ly a series of BBC ani­ma­tions writ­ten by philoso­pher Nigel War­bur­ton and nar­rat­ed by a vari­ety of celebri­ties have done their lev­el best to answer them–or at least to point us in the direc­tion of answer­ing them for our­selves by not just telling but wit­ti­ly show­ing us what great minds have thought and said on the issues before we came along. Most recent­ly, they’ve tak­en on that eter­nal conun­drum, “How can I know any­thing at all?”

The already philo­soph­i­cal­ly inclined will have rec­og­nized this as the foun­da­tion­al ques­tion of epis­te­mol­o­gy, that for­mi­da­ble branch of phi­los­o­phy con­cerned with what we know, how we know, and whether we can know in the first place. Many famil­iar names in the his­to­ry of phi­los­o­phy have stepped onto this field, includ­ing Lud­wig Wittgen­stein, with whose thoughts this series of extreme­ly brief explana­to­ry videos begins. It lays out his anal­o­gy of the bee­tle in a box, where­in each per­son holds a box con­tain­ing what they call a “bee­tle,” but nobody can look inside anoth­er’s box to con­firm whether their idea of a bee­tle aligns with any­one else’s.

In Wittgen­stein’s view, says actor Aidan Turn­er, “there can’t be more to the pub­lic mean­ing of a lan­guage than we’re capa­ble of teach­ing each oth­er, and the pri­vate ‘something’—the ‘beetle’—can’t have a role in that teach­ing, because we can’t get at it.” The next video, in ask­ing whether we should believe in mir­a­cles, brings in Scot­tish Enlight­en­ment thinker David Hume, who thought that “if we fol­low the rule of pro­por­tion­ing our beliefs to the avail­able evi­dence, there will always be more evi­dence that the eye­wit­ness accounts were mis­tak­en than not.” Hume’s pre­de­ces­sor George Berke­ley makes an appear­ance to weigh in on whether any­thing exists—or, more pre­cise­ly, whether any­thing exists besides our minds, which con­vince us that we expe­ri­ence real things out there in the world.

Final­ly, the series lands on a method we can use to know, one sci­ence has relied on, with seem­ing suc­cess, for quite some time now: Karl Pop­per’s idea of fal­si­fi­ca­tion. “Rather than look­ing for sup­port­ing evi­dence, Pop­per argued that sci­en­tists go out of their way to refute their own hypothe­ses, test­ing them to destruc­tion,” leav­ing those that remain, at least pro­vi­sion­al­ly, as knowl­edge. Though none of these videos exceed two min­utes in length, each one, dense with both philo­soph­i­cal and pop-cul­tur­al ref­er­ences, will leave you with more knowl­edge about epis­te­mol­o­gy than you went in with—assuming they don’t leave you dis­be­liev­ing in knowl­edge itself.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

140 Free Online Phi­los­o­phy Cours­es

What is Love? BBC Phi­los­o­phy Ani­ma­tions Fea­ture Sartre, Freud, Aristo­phanes, Dawkins & More

What is the Self? Watch Phi­los­o­phy Ani­ma­tions Nar­rat­ed by Stephen Fry on Sartre, Descartes & More

How Did Every­thing Begin?: Ani­ma­tions on the Ori­gins of the Uni­verse Nar­rat­ed by X‑Files Star Gillian Ander­son

What Makes Us Human?: Chom­sky, Locke & Marx Intro­duced by New Ani­mat­ed Videos from the BBC

How to Live a Good Life? Watch Phi­los­o­phy Ani­ma­tions Nar­rat­ed by Stephen Fry on Aris­to­tle, Ayn Rand, Max Weber & More

How Can I Know Right From Wrong? Watch Phi­los­o­phy Ani­ma­tions on Ethics Nar­rat­ed by Har­ry Shear­er

Col­in Mar­shall writes on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

A Look Inside Hannah Arendt’s Personal Library: Download Marginalia from 90 Books (Heidegger, Kant, Marx & More)

Hannah_Arendt

It does seem pos­si­ble, I think, to over­val­ue the sig­nif­i­cance of a writer’s library to his or her own lit­er­ary pro­duc­tions. We all hold on to books that have long since ceased to have any pull on us, and lose track of books that have great­ly influ­enced us. What we keep or don’t keep can be as much a mat­ter of hap­pen­stance or sen­ti­ment as delib­er­ate per­son­al archiv­ing. But while we may not always be con­scious cura­tors of our lives’ effects, those effects still speak for us when we are gone in ways we may nev­er have intend­ed. In the case of famous—and famous­ly controversial—thinkers like Han­nah Arendt, what is left behind will always con­sti­tute a body of evi­dence. And in some cases—such as that of Arendt’s teacher and one­time lover Mar­tin Hei­deg­ger’s glar­ing­ly anti-Semit­ic Black Note­books—the evi­dence can be irrev­o­ca­bly damn­ing.

Heidegger Early Greek

In Arendt’s case, we have no such smok­ing gun to sub­stan­ti­ate argu­ments that, despite her own back­ground, Arendt was anti-Jew­ish and blamed the vic­tims of the Holo­caust. Dur­ing the so-called “Eich­mann wars” in the mid-twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry, a tor­rent of crit­i­cism bom­bard­ed Arendt’s Eich­mann in Jerusalem, the com­pi­la­tion of dis­patch­es she penned as an observ­er of the Nazi arch-bureaucrat’s tri­al. These days, writes Corey Robin in The Nation, “while the con­tro­ver­sy over Eich­mann remains, the con­tro­ver­sial­ists have moved on.” The debate now seems more cen­tered on Arendt’s book itself than on her moti­va­tions. What do Arendt’s obser­va­tions reveal to us today about the log­ic of total­i­tar­i­an­ism and geno­ci­dal state actions? One way to approach the ques­tions of mean­ing in Eich­mann, and in her mon­u­men­tal The Ori­gins of Total­i­tar­i­an­ism, is to exam­ine the sources of her thought—and her use of those sources.

Arendt Nicomachean

Arendt’s library—much of it on view online thanks to Bard col­lege—offers us a unique oppor­tu­ni­ty to do just that, not only by giv­ing us access to the spe­cif­ic edi­tions and trans­la­tions that she her­self read and saved (for what­ev­er rea­son), but also by offer­ing insight into what Arendt con­sid­ered impor­tant enough in those texts to under­line and anno­tate. In Bard’s dig­i­tal col­lec­tion of “Arendt Mar­gin­a­lia”—selec­tions of her anno­tat­ed books in down­load­able PDFs—we see a polit­i­cal phi­los­o­phy informed by Aris­to­tle (see a page from her copy of Nico­machean Ethics above), Pla­to, and Kant, but also by con­ser­v­a­tive Ger­man polit­i­cal the­o­rist Carl Schmitt, a mem­ber and active sup­port­er of Nazism, and of course, by Hei­deg­ger, whose work occu­pies a cen­tral place in her library: in Ger­man and Eng­lish (like his Ear­ly Greek Think­ing above, inscribed by the trans­la­tor), and in pri­ma­ry and sec­ondary sources.

While it may go too far to claim, as promi­nent schol­ar Bernard Wasser­stein did in 2009, that an exam­i­na­tion of Arendt’s sources shows her inter­nal­iz­ing the val­ues of Nazis and anti-Semi­tes, the pre­pon­der­ance of con­ser­v­a­tive Ger­man thinkers in her per­son­al library does give us a sense of her intel­lec­tu­al lean­ings. But we can­not draw broad con­clu­sions from a cur­so­ry sur­vey of a life­time of read­ing and re-read­ing, though we do see a par­tic­u­lar­ly Aris­totelian strain in her think­ing: that the indi­vid­ual is only as healthy as his or her polit­i­cal cul­ture. What schol­ars of Arendt will find in Bard’s dig­i­tal col­lec­tion are ample clues to the devel­op­ment and evo­lu­tion of her phi­los­o­phy over time. What lay read­ers will find is the out­line of a course on the sources of Arendt-ian thought, includ­ing not only Greeks and Ger­mans, but the Amer­i­can poet Robert Low­ell, who wrote a glow­ing pro­file of Arendt and con­tributed at least four signed books of his to her library.

I say “at least” because the Bard dig­i­tal col­lec­tion is yet incom­plete, rep­re­sent­ing only a por­tion of the phys­i­cal media in the college’s phys­i­cal archive of “approx­i­mate­ly 4,000 vol­umes, ephemera and pam­phlets that made up the library in Han­nah Arendt’s last apart­ment in New York City.” What we don’t have online are books inscribed to her by Jew­ish schol­ar and mys­tic Ger­shom Scholem, by W.H. Auden and Ran­dall Jar­rell, and many oth­ers. Nonethe­less the “Arendt Mar­gin­a­lia” gives us an oppor­tu­ni­ty to peer into a writer and scholar’s process, and see her wres­tle with the thought of her pre­de­ces­sors and con­tem­po­raries. The full Arendt col­lec­tion gives us even more to sift through, includ­ing pri­vate cor­re­spon­dence and record­ings of pub­lic speech­es. The dig­i­ti­za­tion of these sources offers many oppor­tu­ni­ties for those who can­not trav­el to New York and access the phys­i­cal archives to delve into Arendt’s intel­lec­tu­al world in ways pre­vi­ous­ly only avail­able to pro­fes­sion­al aca­d­e­mics.

Relat­ed Con­tents:

Enter the Han­nah Arendt Archives & Dis­cov­er Rare Audio Lec­tures, Man­u­scripts, Mar­gin­a­lia, Let­ters, Post­cards & More

Han­nah Arendt Dis­cuss­es Phi­los­o­phy, Pol­i­tics & Eich­mann in Rare 1964 TV Inter­view

Han­nah Arendt’s Orig­i­nal Arti­cles on “the Banal­i­ty of Evil” in the New York­er Archive

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Theodor Adorno’s Critical Theory Text Minima Moralia Sung as Hardcore Punk Songs

Image of Theodor Adorno (right) by Jere­my J. Shapiro, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

With the pos­si­ble excep­tion of John Gray’s Straw Dogs, few works of phi­los­o­phy con­front the bar­ren­ness of human life in the mod­ern world in bleak­er terms than Theodor Adorno’s Min­i­ma Moralia. Tak­ing its title from Aristotle’s Magna Moralia, or “The Great Ethics,” Adorno’s book sub­verts the clas­si­cal idea of the good life as a real­is­tic aspi­ra­tion in a world dom­i­nat­ed by total­i­tar­i­an sys­tems of con­trol and inex­orable, grind­ing log­ics of pro­duc­tion and con­sump­tion. “Our per­spec­tive of life has passed into an ide­ol­o­gy which con­ceals the fact that there is life no longer,” writes Adorno in his Ded­i­ca­tion. The indi­vid­ual has been “reduced and degrad­ed” by cap­i­tal­ism and fas­cism, flat­tened to mere appear­ance in the “sphere of con­sump­tion.”

Adorno’s book—a philo­soph­i­cal mem­oir of his expe­ri­ence as an “intel­lec­tu­al in emigration”—reflects his pes­simism not only in its title but also in its sub­ti­tle: Reflec­tions from Dam­aged Life. How lit­tle he could have suspected—and how much he like­ly would have despised—the kin­ship between his own post­war angst and the neu­rot­ic anger of the Amer­i­can hard­core punk gen­er­a­tion to come some thir­ty-five years lat­er.

Take, for exam­ple these lyrics to Black Flag’s “Dam­aged,” from their 1981 album of the same name:

Right now look at me now
Look at me now
Just shad­ows
I’m just shad­ows of what I was
I just want anoth­er thing
I don’t even get by for that

One might make the case that Black Flag lyrics—and those of so many sim­i­lar bands—play out Adorno’s the­sis over and over: to quote a much less angry pop band from a lat­er gen­er­a­tion: “Mod­ern Life is Rub­bish.”

Seiz­ing on these pes­simistic par­al­lels between punk rock and crit­i­cal the­o­ry, film­mak­er and artist Bri­an J. Davis record­ed an EP of read­ings from five chap­ters of Adorno’s book, set to blis­ter­ing hard­core drums and gui­tars. (Any­one hap­pen to know who is on vocals?) Above, hear “They, The Peo­ple,” and “This Side of the Plea­sure Prin­ci­ple” and below, we have “UNmea­sure for UNmea­sure,” “John­ny Head-in-the-Air,” and “Every Work is an Uncom­mit­ted Crime.”

As you’ll note, Adorno’s titles allude to well-known works of art, pol­i­tics, folk song, and the­o­ry and—as the publisher’s note in my Ver­so edi­tion puts it— “involve irony or inver­sion,” pri­ma­ry rhetor­i­cal meth­ods of his “neg­a­tive dialec­tic.” The hard­core punks who picked up, how­ev­er uncon­scious­ly, on Adorno’s dis­af­fect­ed cri­tique may have eschewed his self-con­scious­ly lit­er­ary approach, but they were no less mas­ters of irony, even if their tar­gets hap­pened to be much more pop-cul­tur­al.

Punk rock Adorno comes to us from WFMU’s Ken­neth S as exam­ples of “aca­d­e­m­ic the­o­ry… sung by peo­ple who can’t sing.” As Col­in Mar­shall point­ed out in a post yes­ter­day, Gold­smith has made his own con­tri­bu­tion to the genre, singing writ­ings by Wal­ter Ben­jamin, Lud­wig Wittgen­stein, and Sig­mund Freud. And to even more humor­ous effect, we’ve pre­vi­ous­ly brought you the work of M.A. Num­mi­nen, Finnish per­for­mance artist who turned Wittgenstein’s Trac­ta­tus into a bizarre com­ic opera.

For a much more seri­ous look at Adorno and music—a sub­ject he wrote pas­sion­ate­ly and con­tro­ver­sial­ly about—check out this post on his own avant-garde com­po­si­tions, which turn out to be much less punk rock than one might expect giv­en his social alien­ation and despon­den­cy.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The The­o­ry of Wal­ter Ben­jamin, Lud­wig Wittgen­stein & Sig­mund Freud Sung by Ken­neth Gold­smith

Lud­wig Wittgenstein’s Trac­ta­tus Gets Adapt­ed Into an Avant-Garde Com­ic Opera

Hear Theodor Adorno’s Avant-Garde Musi­cal Com­po­si­tions

Theodor Adorno’s Rad­i­cal Cri­tique of Joan Baez and the Music of the Viet­nam War Protest Move­ment

Theodor Adorno’s Phi­los­o­phy of Punc­tu­a­tion

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness.

The Theory of Walter Benjamin, Ludwig Wittgenstein & Sigmund Freud Sung by Kenneth Goldsmith

Goldsmith Benjamin_0

Wal­ter Ben­jamin, Lud­wig Wittgen­stein, and Sig­mund Freud: if these the­o­rists share any qual­i­ty at all, they share a rep­u­ta­tion for not going easy on their read­ers. Each of them wrote in a way that exudes a dif­fer­ent kind of intel­lec­tu­al dif­fi­cul­ty — Ben­jam­in’s sud­den swerves into the zone where high rel­e­vance meets high irrel­e­vance, Wittgen­stein’s aus­tere cer­tain­ty, Freud’s elab­o­rate flights into the near-fan­tas­ti­cal  — but all of their work pos­es a chal­lenge to read­ers approach­ing it for the first time. And so Ken­neth Gold­smith Sings The­o­ry address­es the obvi­ous ques­tion: what if you did­n’t read it, but heard it sung instead?

“What is it about aca­d­e­m­ic the­o­ry that begs to be, well, sung by peo­ple who can’t sing?” asks Gold­smith, poet, prof, UBUweb cre­ator, and WFMU radio host, on the sta­tion’s blog. He cites exam­ples from a punk-rock­i­fied Theodor Adorno to a Finnish eccen­tric’s con­ver­sion of the Trac­ta­tus Logi­co-Philo­soph­i­cus into a song­book, even­tu­al­ly com­ing to his own “adven­tures into the field,” which you can hear in the Pennsound archive. Just above, we have have Gold­smith singing Ben­jam­in’s “Unpack­ing my Library” to music by exper­i­men­tal vio­lin­ist Eyvind Kang [MP3]. “Just as Ben­jamin lists copies of oth­er books and the asso­ci­a­tions they bring,” writes Jacob Edmond at Jacket2, “so Gold­smith copies Ben­jamin, cre­at­ing an idio­syn­crat­ic audio book ver­sion. ”

Wittgen­stein Part 1

Wittgen­stein Part 2

“In his per­for­mance of the text, Gold­smith fus­es pre­cise­ly delin­eat­ed musi­cal sec­tions, or move­ments, with the chaot­ic, shift­ing pitch and tone of his voice, par­al­lel­ing Benjamin’s obser­va­tion in the essay that ‘if there is a coun­ter­part to the con­fu­sion of a library, it is the order of its cat­a­logue.’ ” Can you find sim­i­lar par­al­lels between Gold­smith’s man­ner of singing and the the­o­ry he deliv­ers with it when he per­forms Wittgen­stein’s Philo­soph­i­cal Inves­ti­ga­tions to Igor Stravin­sky [MP3 part one, MP3 part two]? Or below, where he sings Sig­mund Freud’s The Psy­chopathol­o­gy of Every­day Life, start­ing on the pas­sage of the “slips of the tongue” which have pop­u­lar­ly come to bear Freud’s name, to The Who [MP3]? After all, style does­n’t count for much, as such a strik­ing­ly dressed char­ac­ter as Gold­smith knows full well, unless it aligns with sub­stance.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Wal­ter Benjamin’s Mys­ti­cal Thought Pre­sent­ed by Two Exper­i­men­tal Films

Wal­ter Benjamin’s Radio Plays for Kids (1929–1932)

Wittgenstein’s Mas­ter­piece, the Trac­ta­tus Logi­co-Philo­soph­i­cus, Gets Turned into Beau­ti­ful, Med­i­ta­tive Music

Lud­wig Wittgenstein’s Trac­ta­tus Gets Adapt­ed Into an Avant-Garde Com­ic Opera

Sig­mund Freud Speaks: The Only Known Record­ing of His Voice, 1938

Col­in Mar­shall writes on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

New Study: Immersing Yourself in Art, Music & Nature Might Reduce Inflammation & Increase Life Expectancy

caspar-david-friedrich-wanderer

Of all the philo­soph­i­cal con­cepts Immanuel Kant is known for, the one I’ve had to strug­gle the least to grasp is his descrip­tion of the sub­lime, a state in which we are over­awed by the scale of some great work of man or nature. It’s an expe­ri­ence, in typ­i­cal Kant­ian fash­ion, that he explains as being not about the thing itself, but rather the idea of the thing. Yet the con­cept of the sub­lime isn’t his. Philoso­phers from the Greek teacher Long­i­nus in the 1st cen­tu­ry to Edmund Burke and oth­er Eng­lish Enlight­en­ment thinkers in Kan­t’s own 18th cen­tu­ry have had their take on it. For the clas­si­cal writ­ers, the sub­lime was rhetor­i­cal, for the Brits, it was empir­i­cal. But above all, the sub­lime is peak aesthetics—a supra-ratio­nal expe­ri­ence of art or nature one can­not get one’s head around. To be so ful­ly absorbed, so strick­en with awe, won­der, and, yes, even fear—all of these philoso­phers believed in some fashion—is to have an expe­ri­ence crit­i­cal to tran­scend­ing our lim­i­ta­tions.

We may not, in either com­mon speech or aca­d­e­m­ic phi­los­o­phy, talk much about the sub­lime these days, but what­ev­er we call the feel­ing of being absorbed in art, music, or nature, it turns out to have phys­i­cal ben­e­fits as well as men­tal and emo­tion­al. “There seems to be some­thing about awe,” says pro­fes­sor of psy­chol­o­gy Dacher Kelt­ner. “It seems to have pro­nounced impact on mark­ers relat­ed to inflam­ma­tion.”

In oth­er words, immers­ing your­self in art or nature is good for the joints, and it could pos­si­bly pre­empt var­i­ous dis­eases trig­gered by inflam­ma­tion. Kelt­ner and his fel­low researchers at UC Berke­ley con­duct­ed a study which found that “awe, won­der and beau­ty pro­mote [low­er and over­all] health­i­er lev­els of cytokines”—pro­teins that “sig­nal the immune sys­tem to work hard­er.” He goes on to say that “the things we do to expe­ri­ence these emotions—a walk in nature, los­ing one­self in music, behold­ing art—has [sic] a direct influ­ence upon health and life expectan­cy.”

Nev­er mind that Kant and Burke thought of the sub­lime and the beau­ti­ful as two very dif­fer­ent things. Whether we become total­ly over­whelmed by, or just find deep appre­ci­a­tion in an aes­thet­ic expe­ri­ence, the emo­tions pro­duced “might be just as salu­bri­ous as hit­ting the gym,” writes Hyper­al­ler­gic. That may seem a crude way of think­ing about the spir­i­tu­al and emo­tion­al grandeur of the sub­lime, but it brings our phys­i­cal being into the dis­cus­sion in ways many philoso­phers have neglect­ed. Grant­ed, the researchers them­selves admit the causal link is uncer­tain: it might be bet­ter health that leads to more expe­ri­ences of awe, and not the oth­er way around. But cer­tain­ly no harm—and a great deal of good—can come from con­duct­ing the exper­i­ment on your­self. Read an abstract (or pur­chase a copy) of the Berke­ley team’s arti­cle here, and learn more about their work with the Uni­ver­si­ty’s Greater Good Sci­ence Cen­ter, which aims to “spon­sor ground­break­ing sci­en­tif­ic research into social and emo­tion­al well-being.”

via Hyper­al­ler­gic

Relat­ed Con­tent:

This Is Your Brain on Jane Austen: The Neu­ro­science of Read­ing Great Lit­er­a­ture

How Walk­ing Fos­ters Cre­ativ­i­ty: Stan­ford Researchers Con­firm What Philoso­phers and Writ­ers Have Always Known

Free Guid­ed Med­i­ta­tions From UCLA: Boost Your Aware­ness & Ease Your Stress

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

What is Love? BBC Philosophy Animations Feature Sartre, Freud, Aristophanes, Dawkins & More

The BBC’s recent series of Nigel War­bur­ton-script­ed, celebri­ty-nar­rat­ed ani­ma­tions in phi­los­o­phy haven’t shied away from the hard ques­tions the dis­ci­pline touch­es. How did every­thing begin? What makes us human? What is the self? How do I live a good life? In all those videos, Gillian Ander­son, Stephen Fry, and Har­ry Shear­er told us what his­to­ry’s most thought-about thinkers have had to say on those sub­jects. But for the lat­est round, War­bur­ton and The Hob­bit’s Aidan Turn­er have tak­en on what some would con­sid­er, at least for our prac­ti­cal pur­pos­es, the trick­i­est one of all: what is love?

You might not turn to Jean-Paul Sartre, life part­ner of Simone de Beau­voir, as a first love con­sul­tant of choice, but the series devotes an entire video to the Being and Noth­ing­ness author’s the­o­ries on emo­tion. The free­dom-mind­ed Sartre sees the con­di­tion of love as a “haz­ardous, painful strug­gle,” one of either masochism or sadism: “masochism when a lover tries to become what he thinks his lover wants him to be, and in the process denies his own free­dom; sadism when the lover treats the loved one as an object and ties her down. Either way, free­dom is com­pro­mised.”

Have we any lighter philo­soph­i­cal per­spec­tives on love here? Well, we have a vari­ety of philo­soph­i­cal per­spec­tives on love, any­way: Aristo­phanes’ cre­ation myth of the “miss­ing half,” Sig­mund Freud and Edvard West­er­mar­ck­’s dis­agree­ment over the Oedi­pus com­plex, and the con­vic­tion of “psy­cho­log­i­cal ego­ists” from Thomas Hobbes to Richard Dawkins that no such thing as strict­ly self­less love exists. The phi­los­o­phy of love, like love itself, can get com­pli­cat­ed, but the clear and wit­ty draw­ings accom­pa­ny­ing the ideas dis­cussed in these videos can help us envi­sion the dif­fer­ent ideas they encom­pass. Should you need even clear­er (or less wit­ty) illus­tra­tions on the sub­ject, you could always turn to Love Isthough I have a feel­ing you’d find that solu­tion a bit too sim­ple.

Watch all of the ani­mat­ed videos in the What is Love? playlist here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

What is the Self? Watch Phi­los­o­phy Ani­ma­tions Nar­rat­ed by Stephen Fry on Sartre, Descartes & More

How Did Every­thing Begin?: Ani­ma­tions on the Ori­gins of the Uni­verse Nar­rat­ed by X‑Files Star Gillian Ander­son

What Makes Us Human?: Chom­sky, Locke & Marx Intro­duced by New Ani­mat­ed Videos from the BBC

How to Live a Good Life? Watch Phi­los­o­phy Ani­ma­tions Nar­rat­ed by Stephen Fry on Aris­to­tle, Ayn Rand, Max Weber & More

How Can I Know Right From Wrong? Watch Phi­los­o­phy Ani­ma­tions on Ethics Nar­rat­ed by Har­ry Shear­er

Down­load 130 Free Phi­los­o­phy Cours­es: Tools for Think­ing About Life, Death & Every­thing Between

Lovers and Philoso­phers — Jean-Paul Sartre & Simone de Beau­voir Togeth­er in 1967

Col­in Mar­shall writes on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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