How is being critical different from being a critic?
(Compare this discussion of critical philosophy to Nietzsche's identification of three types of history: monumental, which is, apparently, the closest to his heart, antiquarian, which focuses on the minutia with no prioritizing of historical importance and value, and, lastly, critical, which Nietzsche criticizes on a far greater scale of disdain than anything exhibited here.)
No doubt, these coming philosophers will be the least able to dispense with those serious qualities that distinguish the critic from the skeptic. I mean the certainty of value standards, the deliberate employment of a unity of method, a shrewd courage, the ability to stand alone and give an account of themselves.”
In fact, Dèscartes’ Dubitandum cultivates the mental attitude of skepticism, rather than of criticism, and, as such, reinforces the point that I am making, in highlighting the subtle difference between the critic and the skeptic, quod erat demonstrandum.
It is quite obvious that the steaming buckets of acrid disdain poured on the critics, compared to “venomous snakes who delight in hissing” (W. B. Daniel, 1801), refer to the occupation of the critic (not a person who compares and judges, but one who does it for a living). Only the professional critic is thus mildly, but still contemptuously, defended by Nietzsche, in Menschliches, ii., against the charges of sadism, brought in the Daniel line above. As Nietzsche writes, “Insects sting, not in malice, but because they want to live. It is the same with critics: they desire our blood, not our pain.” (Menschliches, ii.)
But, whatever, let those professional critics be, for they are getting paid for being vilified. Let us focus now on the philosopher-critic, the one who doubts, as all philosophers must, the one who criticizes as a means of creating new concepts, and new values. We already had our good historian, it is time for us to focus on the good critic.
And here comes good Nietzsche again:
“Critical discipline will be demanded by these philosophers, nevertheless, they still do not want to be called critics, on that account. They consider it a disgrace for philosophy when people decree: ‘Philosophy itself is criticism, and critical science, and nothing besides.’ Such evaluation of philosophy may elicit applause from the positivists of France and Germany (and it might even have pleased Kant, remember the titles of his major works!); our new philosophers will say nevertheless that critics are instruments of a philosopher, and for that reason a long way from being philosophers themselves. Even the great Chinese of Königsberg (Nietzsche talks about Kant, and the word Chinese is probably his associative slang for sage ,not to mention the fact that Kant’s nearly incomprehensible German could well be mistaken for “Chinese” by his readers) was merely (!) a great critic.” (Jenseits, 210.)(Compare this discussion of critical philosophy to Nietzsche's identification of three types of history: monumental, which is, apparently, the closest to his heart, antiquarian, which focuses on the minutia with no prioritizing of historical importance and value, and, lastly, critical, which Nietzsche criticizes on a far greater scale of disdain than anything exhibited here.)
The philosopher-critic (and Nietzsche’s denigration of Kant as ‘merely a great critic’ reflects his opinion of him as a failed creator of new values) and the philosopher-creator, ideally, ought to go hand in hand in one person, as, in Bakuninian terms, a passion for destruction (here, criticism) is the first step to the passion for creation (which does not have to be the pipe dream of a positive general theory, already recognized as an intellectual chimera, but simply, the mental propensity for sparking up intuitive constructive philosophical concepts). Thus, the critic becomes the destroyer of a previous world, so that, brushing away the dust of its total and complete destruction, the creator could now create a new world ex nihilo.
It may be necessary to resolve the apparent contradiction here, namely, that in order to create we destroy all that had existed before us. Yet, I am quite comfortable with coexisting in the world of magnificent shadows, rather than supplanting it with my own. The explanation is quite simple. The critic will be exceedingly silly to attempt to intrude into the worlds of others, with his destructive and creative passions, as such an errand would be both futile and ridiculous. To each his own world, and in one’s own world there must be none of other people’s property. That intellectual property belonging to others inevitably accumulates with learning and it must be really hard to let go of it, once we falsely imagine that we own it by virtue of the fact that we find it within the confines of our mental home. But other thinkers’ ideas still have only one owner and once we imagine that they are ours, they begin to own us, and our whole world is then no longer ours, either. The task of the creator is to demolish all foreign clones in his mind, and to begin a new creation ex nihilo. Then, and then only, can we come to terms with our own world and start enjoying a communion with the worlds of the magnificent shadows, and love them dearly, like a master loves a master.
Thus, the good critic is not an intruder in other people’s homes, but a housecleaner of his own, and only in such a capacity is his criticism made legitimate and original.
We turn now to the important, yet extremely subtle, distinction between the critic and the skeptic. Ideally, they will be one and the same person. In our discussion above, when I mentioned how difficult it always is to relinquish other people’s property, which we accumulate in our mental home in the process of learning, being a critic may not be enough to do the right thing. One must also necessarily become a skeptic. In the context of our discussion, it is much easier to criticize others, which is a sure way to make ourselves look ridiculous, but, in order to become a critic inside one’s own home, the critic must, first and foremost, turn himself into a skeptic!
There is another angle for looking at this distinction, and so here is our good Nietzsche again, in the same, earlier quoted, Jenseits, 210:
“Suppose that some trait in the image of the philosophers of the future poses the riddle whether they would not perhaps have to be skeptics, in the sense suggested last, this would still designate only one feature, and not them as a whole. With just as much right one could call them critics: and certainly they will be men of experiments.No doubt, these coming philosophers will be the least able to dispense with those serious qualities that distinguish the critic from the skeptic. I mean the certainty of value standards, the deliberate employment of a unity of method, a shrewd courage, the ability to stand alone and give an account of themselves.”
Which is then higher, in Nietzsche’s eyes, the skeptic or the critic (if such ordering of rank is permissible, and, as I suggest, it is essential here)? In my mind, skepticism is a necessary quality in the philosopher, or should I put it in these terms: both types of skepticism are necessary qualities in a philosopher. There are indeed two important and distinctly separate types of skepticism: the general philosophical principle of the Greek philosophers-skeptics, denying the certainty and, therefore, the possibility of true knowledge… (This principle is so easily acceptable (religion being a matter of belief and science being a matter of hypothesis, at the bottom of a factual construct), that I summarily suggest, that all basic philosophical principles, such as God, for instance, ought to be arrived at, via the authority of the postulate, that is to say, “by definition,” or “scientifically,” which, in this case, means exactly the same thing, and, therefore, creates the wonderful philosophical paradox, that there is only one way to prove the existence of God, the scientific way, which is by postulate! See the Philosophy section for much more on this argument) …and also the Cartesian method of philosophical doubt, which is equally praiseworthy.
In fact, Dèscartes’ Dubitandum cultivates the mental attitude of skepticism, rather than of criticism, and, as such, reinforces the point that I am making, in highlighting the subtle difference between the critic and the skeptic, quod erat demonstrandum.
As to the role of critic, a sharp distinction must be made between criticizing “fiction,” (which is incredibly silly) and practical reality (where any good citizen ought to be a critic, as his first public service to society). Too often this distinction is missing, especially in the public mind, as the very same thing can be fiction in general theory, but become practical reality in application. Therefore, the object of our criticism ought not to be the theory itself (which is here understood in the sense of its underlying hypothesis, that is, its purely fictional part, but its actual or even potential applications (which, of course, include its rationalization and the logic of its substantiation). Needless to say, criticism in the latter sense is highly commendable. (Once again, for more on this, see my Philosophy section.)
No comments:
Post a Comment