Thoughts on philosophy and a particular literary character.
"I preferred the weapons of the dialectic to all the other teachings of philosophy, and armed with these I chose the conflicts of disputation instead of the trophies of war."
- Abelard (Historia Calamitatum, opening page)
War metaphor was the way Abelard chose to express his passion for philosophy, and this method is still overwhelmingly common in public media of all sorts. Political candidates rally the troops, square off, bring in the cavalry, draw battle lines, use secret weapons, battle over constituencies, and become entrenched in conflicts over policy and ideas.
Presumably most people prefer peace over violence when the option exists, and if this is the case, why is it that we so lovingly lap up visions of war when talking about the commonplace; everyday business; the mundane? The question answers itself; attention to a subject is captured by injecting into the subject exaggerated claims of urgency and grandeur. For a philosopher, whose subjects of study will bore many to tears, there are few options. In Abelard's time, one feels the distinct impression that personality was among the driving forces behind the success of the philosopher. Today the scheme is different; typically, philosophers live alongside the likes of physicists, writing for an esoteric academic community in which personality means little, and whose ideas, if appealing enough, find their way to the public sphere only after a process of dilution into bumper stickers and Wikipedia entries. The greatest thinkers in history have been reduced to a few short quotes. Herein lies the problem: the only way to appeal to a mass audience is to simplify and homogenize. Big ideas, for all their value and complexity, are near-impossible to relay unless the medium itself has easy appeal.
The medium, of course, is language. Abelard's use of War as metaphor for philosophical struggle is an example of his brilliance not as a philosopher, but as a manipulator of words and as a personality. A harsher critic than I might liken the historical Abelard to a modern cult leader rather than a philosopher. Much like a great composer, whose simple and heartfelt melodies convey a multitude of complex emotions, Abelard was able to craft simple metaphorical vessels for big ideas, and open people's minds to them with a wit that was a likely a breath of fresh air from those thinkers who were old and stuffy, albeit no less passionate.
What is the message, then? It is notable that when reading Abelard himself, we remember his personal struggles, the romance, heartbreak, the victories and losses. We scarcely remember what the man stood for, philosophically, despite that his self-described chief purpose in life was to be a philosopher! What we remember is the man.
And thus what we view as content loses its importance. Perhaps it was never intended to be important. Perhaps the content was the medium all along, and the man the message. Thinkers pondered and debated endlessly (and to this very day) about Aristotle's categories, substance and essence, and of course the endlessly paradoxical (if not contradictory) Holy Trinity. The natural world is ripe with examples and anecdotes, and these debates will carry on to no end for the simple reason that the things being debated are not mere things, but things within mutually exclusive frameworks. Ideas are all housed within these, and to attack them from without is to fight an oil fire with water.
Kasparov, a world chess champion, once said that one ought to "play the board, not your opponent." Abelard and his opponents, on the other hand, played against each other, what was on the board constituted only partial relevance. The game wasn't so much to win on the board as it was to have people believe that you are winning. After all, what is truth, if not the consensus of the people based on the appeal to authority?
What Abelard may never have considered is the full depth to which language is reflexive. Of course, the vary nature of the Genre in which he is writing (the Consolation) demands multiple considerations. First, he presumably wishes to express himself personally to Heloise, and second, he wishes to express himself to the public. In order to do both, it must be assumed that all his words have been chosen very carefully, for in appealing to the public too broadly he loses intimacy, and in being 'too' honest to Heloise in a public medium, he loses his much coveted reputation. Abelard admits strength when it looks good to do so, and admits fault only when he's already been found out and punished.
Can we, however, know anything about who this man really was through such a medium? The filtering process that each of his thoughts must go through before ending up on paper is so utterly comprehensive that by the time it has struck yours and mine eyes, all we are seeing is Abelard's consciously and unconsciously distorted reflection. After years of trying to be all things for all people, perhaps this distorted reflection was the only thing Abelard could see as well.
Such is life, when life becomes an exercise of mirroring oneself to fit the needs and wants of others. This was the man's downfall, and the only option he found himself left with was to become a monk; an attempt to reunite the self in the image of God.
What a divinely masterful fate this man suffered. The story of Abelard is not a story of tragedy, or a story of heartbreak, or a story of romance. It is above all things a story of poetic justice.
(this was a short essay for a class. I knew that if I told you beforehand, you'd never read it!)
- Abelard (Historia Calamitatum, opening page)
War metaphor was the way Abelard chose to express his passion for philosophy, and this method is still overwhelmingly common in public media of all sorts. Political candidates rally the troops, square off, bring in the cavalry, draw battle lines, use secret weapons, battle over constituencies, and become entrenched in conflicts over policy and ideas.
Presumably most people prefer peace over violence when the option exists, and if this is the case, why is it that we so lovingly lap up visions of war when talking about the commonplace; everyday business; the mundane? The question answers itself; attention to a subject is captured by injecting into the subject exaggerated claims of urgency and grandeur. For a philosopher, whose subjects of study will bore many to tears, there are few options. In Abelard's time, one feels the distinct impression that personality was among the driving forces behind the success of the philosopher. Today the scheme is different; typically, philosophers live alongside the likes of physicists, writing for an esoteric academic community in which personality means little, and whose ideas, if appealing enough, find their way to the public sphere only after a process of dilution into bumper stickers and Wikipedia entries. The greatest thinkers in history have been reduced to a few short quotes. Herein lies the problem: the only way to appeal to a mass audience is to simplify and homogenize. Big ideas, for all their value and complexity, are near-impossible to relay unless the medium itself has easy appeal.
The medium, of course, is language. Abelard's use of War as metaphor for philosophical struggle is an example of his brilliance not as a philosopher, but as a manipulator of words and as a personality. A harsher critic than I might liken the historical Abelard to a modern cult leader rather than a philosopher. Much like a great composer, whose simple and heartfelt melodies convey a multitude of complex emotions, Abelard was able to craft simple metaphorical vessels for big ideas, and open people's minds to them with a wit that was a likely a breath of fresh air from those thinkers who were old and stuffy, albeit no less passionate.
What is the message, then? It is notable that when reading Abelard himself, we remember his personal struggles, the romance, heartbreak, the victories and losses. We scarcely remember what the man stood for, philosophically, despite that his self-described chief purpose in life was to be a philosopher! What we remember is the man.
And thus what we view as content loses its importance. Perhaps it was never intended to be important. Perhaps the content was the medium all along, and the man the message. Thinkers pondered and debated endlessly (and to this very day) about Aristotle's categories, substance and essence, and of course the endlessly paradoxical (if not contradictory) Holy Trinity. The natural world is ripe with examples and anecdotes, and these debates will carry on to no end for the simple reason that the things being debated are not mere things, but things within mutually exclusive frameworks. Ideas are all housed within these, and to attack them from without is to fight an oil fire with water.
Kasparov, a world chess champion, once said that one ought to "play the board, not your opponent." Abelard and his opponents, on the other hand, played against each other, what was on the board constituted only partial relevance. The game wasn't so much to win on the board as it was to have people believe that you are winning. After all, what is truth, if not the consensus of the people based on the appeal to authority?
What Abelard may never have considered is the full depth to which language is reflexive. Of course, the vary nature of the Genre in which he is writing (the Consolation) demands multiple considerations. First, he presumably wishes to express himself personally to Heloise, and second, he wishes to express himself to the public. In order to do both, it must be assumed that all his words have been chosen very carefully, for in appealing to the public too broadly he loses intimacy, and in being 'too' honest to Heloise in a public medium, he loses his much coveted reputation. Abelard admits strength when it looks good to do so, and admits fault only when he's already been found out and punished.
Can we, however, know anything about who this man really was through such a medium? The filtering process that each of his thoughts must go through before ending up on paper is so utterly comprehensive that by the time it has struck yours and mine eyes, all we are seeing is Abelard's consciously and unconsciously distorted reflection. After years of trying to be all things for all people, perhaps this distorted reflection was the only thing Abelard could see as well.
Such is life, when life becomes an exercise of mirroring oneself to fit the needs and wants of others. This was the man's downfall, and the only option he found himself left with was to become a monk; an attempt to reunite the self in the image of God.
What a divinely masterful fate this man suffered. The story of Abelard is not a story of tragedy, or a story of heartbreak, or a story of romance. It is above all things a story of poetic justice.
(this was a short essay for a class. I knew that if I told you beforehand, you'd never read it!)
Comments
Really interesting, particularly the part about the reduction and dilution of ideas in order to appeal to the masses (damn them all). Sounds like something that could have relevance in your recent literary ambitions.
Love the chess reference.