Why does doing the right thing always sound so boring?
Kierkegaard’s Ethicist and the dilemma of the righteous
It has always bothered me a bit that the Ethicist in Kierkegaard’s philosophy is kind of the boring guy who does everything right and never steps outside the line. Like a “goody two shoes” conformist.
Why does doing the right thing always sound so boring?
Maybe part of the question is to be found in the fact that in Kierkegaard’s philosophy, distinguishing between the Philistine and the Ethicist can be hard, whereas the Aesthete is the crazy, flamboyant person, who is always partying and traveling.
Let me explain by taking a look at Kierkegaard’s existential ladder of human development.
Philistine characters in Kierkegaard’s philosophy are governed by expectations and the “rules” of social behavior. They are extroverted and absorbed by life’s many problems, and hence “busy” (which tends to be a status symbol in our late-modern capitalistic, industrious, innovation-focused culture). But to be busy in a world where nothing is of genuine significance appears petty—even comical.
Philistines think that they are living an authentic life, but are guided by cultural constructions, which are solely valid due to conventions. Their despair is unconscious. They are, using Sartre’s terms, existence without essence.
The Philistine has no self. There is nothing within, merely the product of the workings of anonymous forces that are uncontrollable.
This might sound like a paradox. How can one be non-identical with oneself? How is discrepancy between “I” and “me” possible? Well, according to Kierkegaard (as well as Hegel and Sartre), immediate being is not conscious being. Becoming a self requires consciousness and mindful choices; we are born with the possibility of becoming authentic human beings, but authenticity requires fulfillment of the preliminary possibility.
However, one can easily live a Philistine life without being unhappy. As a matter of fact, the Philistine probably often feels happy and well-off; he might have a good job, a lovely spouse, a couple of children, and probably enjoys many earthly pleasures, such as holidays, nice furniture, a fancy car, fine garments, etc. But the Philistine has lost himself to external conditions and is dependent upon those. Hence, if all the external goodness and fortune slips through his hands, if everything is stripped away, there is nothing to fall back on and he is nothing. The Philistine’s happiness is dependent on visible success and external factors only.
The moment the Philistine recognizes that he is in fact a Philistine (and acknowledges that he is living an extroverted life dependent on status symbols, and the approving gazes of others) — if he ever does; most people don’t according to Kierkegaard — he is immediately transformed into an Aesthete.
But what does it take for a Philistine to realize that he is a Philistine? Nothing in particular. Or rather, the possibility for the realization lurks in each moment. It might show itself as an unusual feeling of meaninglessness, or as a sudden moment of clarity containing the realisation that all striving is pointless vanity, that all goals crumble in indifference. Perhaps this lurking despair is ignored — and perhaps even drowned in a few new glittery things or a bottle of wine — but maybe it’s not. And if it isn’t ignored, if that moment of clarity grows, the process of realization begins.
As a result of the emptiness and anxiety that stems from the insight into the Philistine existence and the lack of human realization, the Aesthete places himself outside of reality (and society or any kind of community for that matter; the ultimate loner), instead of trying to repeal the indifference and fill the emptiness.
He fails to engage in anything or with anyone, and so the emptiness grows. Thus, the Aesthete’s main problem is that he is unable to find an alternative to the given, Philistine reality. He understands that it is hollow, but is unable to find an alternative meaningful foundation for life. An ironic distance is kept from the Philistine, bourgeois existence, which he now finds ridiculous—but ironically, this distance ties him to the bourgeois life as the one that disassociates from it—a dissenter. He orbits the life that he refuses to be a part of.
Nevertheless, the conscious despair of the Aesthete is a prerequisite for removing despair and emptiness—just as self-identity requires the unhappy awareness of non-identity.
A desperate attempt to preserve the interesting — and to not become a victim of boredom and triviality — characterizes the aesthetic stage, hence, a lack of resilience. Boredom, not idleness, says the Aesthete in Crop Rotation, is the root of all evil. Idleness, on the other hand, seems to the Aesthete, as the prerequisite to a divine life, as long as one isn’t bored.
To the Aesthete, pleasure depends on novelty. And when the novelty wears off, he seeks new pleasure, and feels melancholic until new entertainment arises. The Aesthete annuls all applicable norms and all forms of equal or binding interpersonal relationships. Enjoyment requires distance.
Even though the existence of the Aesthete seems like an endless endeavor of meaningless, yet pleasurable experiences, the aesthetician stage is a “necessary evil” in the human process toward authenticity. Not least because the Aesthete discovers the importance of passion.
The passion of the Aesthete, however, is troublesome. He doesn’t know how to make use of passion without an authentic goal to achieve. He doesn’t even understand the concept of having a goal, or dream about achieving something. A goal is something that is linked to the bourgeois reality of the Philistine. And the Philistine’s goals are all too concrete and in reality, indifferent — linked to cultural “should do’s” and traditional status symbols, which are repulsive to the Aesthete.
Nevertheless, the Aesthete feels passionate about his endeavors, despite their character of being isolated adventurous activities. All he needs is purposeful goals to channel passion toward, not a meaningless, fleeting pleasure-hunt that will never satisfy cravings for more, but goals that can engage in life, love, and communities. When (or if ) he finds an objective for passion — and dares to get engaged in something — he will move onto the next phase of human existentialist development: the Kierkegaardian “Ethicist.”
In Kierkegaard’s philosophy, the edifying reconciliation between the individual and humanity appears in Stages on Life’s Way as the ethical way of life, personified by Judge Vilhelm.
The Ethicist Vilhelm has overcome the nihilistic withdrawal from societal values and the constant search for momentary unrestricted pleasure that characterizes the Aesthetician way of life. He dares to commit himself to other people and engages fully in this commitment. As a part of his commitment, a genuine connection to his environment is established. This connection creates a nourishing balance in the ethicist’s existence.
In Kierkegaard’s philosophy, the genuine relationship with other people frees the individual from being indifferent and from the feeling of being alienated from their environment.
However — and here lies the potential dilemma that I outlined in the beginning of this article — when observing people, it is impossible to distinguish between a Philistine and an Ethicist.
Just as the Philistine, the Ethicist does his duty, and engages in family and professional life. The Ethicist has friends and participates in social events. In other words, s/he appear to live in accordance with societal norms. The difference between the Philistine and the Ethicist lies in the individual’s attitude toward life.
The life of the Philistine lacks passion. It lacks the urge to act and do and be, and to involve in things that matter to him; to develop and change unfortunate patterns. The Philistine way of life is characterized by herd-behavior — fitting in and pursuing societal status. This is exactly why the Aesthete is further up the ladder of existence or consciousness development than the Philistine. Because, even though the Aesthete is living in despair, there is a much higher degree of awareness in his existence than in the Philistine life, and the Aesthete can grasp the importance of passion. The passion of the Aesthete, however, is unrestrained and unruly; it doesn’t have a goal.
The Ethicist has given passion an objective. The Ethicist passionately wills himself — which is not the same as egocentric self-sufficiency.
Ethically, to passionately will oneself involves engaging oneself in everything and everyone that one chooses. It involves civil disobedience if the societal norms are fundamentally opposed to one’s values and beliefs. But the problem with Judge Vilhelm is that there isn’t much first-moving, disobedient ethicists in him. He is pretty dry and conform.
We are in need of more engaging ethicists to lead the way and make it cool to do good! Unfortunately being the “good guy” often appears pretty boring and self-righteous. As the kind of guy who goes to bed early and never misses a morning run (not that there is anything wrong with it, but it’s an uninteresting story to tell). Even in Kierkegaard’s philosophy the Aesthete is most certainly the most intriguing persona to read about — which is perhaps also why the aesthetician stories take up a considerable amount of pages in Either-Or. And despite the fact that Kierkegaard describes Judge Vilhelm as someone who lives passionately, he doesn’t feel very passionate.
Perhaps passion and civil disobedience are key. One of the coolest ethicists in philosophical literature is Thoreau.“Take long walks in stormy weather or through deep snows in the fields and woods, if you would keep your spirits up. Deal with brute nature. Be cold and hungry and weary”, Thoreau writes in his essay on Civil Disobedience. See, that’s the kind of ethicist that you would want to follow and read about!
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