Tuesday, September 24, 2013

THOROUGHNESS IS NOT A NAME FOR A FREE SPIRIT


In writing a glowing personal reference for me, to use with my prospective applications to Universities for a teaching job, State Senator Milton Marks of California chose to describe me professionally as “thorough.” I wonder where he got this idea from, but certainly not from a personal observation, I hope. Perhaps, he knew what he was doing. I guess that to describe a scholar as ‘thorough is as formulaic in America as describing an applicant as ‘ideologically seasoned and morally stable’ had been the formulaic requisite of all character references in the Soviet Union, of blessed memory.

But if I had a say in my own academic referencing, I would never have gone along with Senator Marks, but rather with Nietzsche, applying to myself what he says about himself in Ecce Homo: I am always equal to accidents; I have to be unprepared to be the master of myself. This applies to me almost perfectly, both in other scholars’ opinion of me (Permyakov, Smoke, and several others), and in my personal understanding of my own nature. (The big deal, however, is that, honestly, only the second part of it is a perfect fit, while the word “always” in the first part may not have always been true, unfortunately. I still have to learn a lot about how to be always prepared to be unprepared…

Coming back to the question of thoroughness, on some occasions a well-intentioned compliment may turn out worse than any disparagement, when it entails a false perception, and therefore a false identification. A bird misidentified as a fish will have its wings soaked in water by its well-wishers each time they want to do it a favor. In this regard, the word thoroughness may seem like a really nice word to use in describing “a gentleman and a scholar,” but it is in no way appropriate when it is applied to the other type.

Nietzsche’s Jenseits (253), quoted below, contains the idea of different types of scholar: philosopher versus scientist. Attributing to the English this mediocrity of the spirit that characterizes the scientific, rather than creative mind of the original thinker, I wonder if Nietzsche is objectively right. or, reflecting an anti-English bias, he is merely committing the sin of an intellectual “racial profiling.” In this connection, it is funny how I myself have been misdiagnosed by Senator Marks, who called me “thorough,” which in Nietzsche’s usage may represent the assiduousness of the English type, whereas my real disposition, fortified by my fondness for Nietzsche’s wild and random kindred spirit, makes me seriously suspect myself of belonging to that other, distinctly random type. In fact, here is what I can quite honestly say about myself.-- Being this so-called “thorough” comes to me with an effort, whereas being profusely creative, and intellectually random, comes with no effort at all. Appearances must be so deceptive, or perhaps they are not even appearances, but some preexistent stereotypes, used in lieu of these appearances!

Anyway, here is Nietzsche in Jenseits (253): There are truths which are recognized best by mediocre minds because they are most congenial to them; there are truths which have charm and seductive power only for mediocre spirits: we come up against this, perhaps, disagreeable proposition just now, since the spirit of respectable but mediocre Englishmen: I name Darwin, John Stuart Mill, and Herbert Spenser, is beginning to predominate in the middle regions of European taste. Indeed, who would doubt that it is useful that such spirits should rule at times? It would be a mistake to suppose that the spirits of a higher type that soar on their own paths would be particularly skillful at determining and collecting many small and common facts and then drawing conclusions from them: on the contrary, being exceptions, they are from the start at a disadvantage when it comes to the “rule.” Finally, they have more to do than merely to gain knowledge--- namely, to be something new, to signify something new, to represent new values.

Perhaps, the chasm between know and can is greater, also uncannier, than people suppose: those who can do things in the grand style, the creative, may possibly have to be lacking in knowledge, while, on the other hand, for scientific discoveries of the Darwin type a certain narrowness, aridity, and industrious diligence, something English in short, may not be a bad disposition.

In this connection, I repeat again that, in so far as the “unscholarly” form, and occasionally flighty substance of my most current writing is concerned, I have nothing to improve, nothing to apologize for, and nothing more “academic” to offer to potential students. In a way, what I am today is consistent with what I used to be in my luckier younger days, when I ridiculed in my mind the trodden path of the professor: “If you wish to offer me that doctorate, I could, perhaps, consider it, but I would not want to go through the tedious motions of the standard procedure just for the sake of obtaining a meaningless piece of paper.” Indeed, I must have been reckless and silly, as seen from my distance and in the context of subsequent events, but at least Permyakov could understand, if not approve of, my stubbornness (I guess, he was too critical of himself in this respect, being a world-renowned scientist without any academic certification or even an honorary PhD rank, and could not possibly advise me to tread that same path!), while today’s another Grigori, Perelman, would certainly be equally able to understand and appreciate my erstwhile stubbornness…

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