Category: Finn Janning

Kierkegaard: Love, literature & life

“Loving people is the only thing worth living for.” – Søren Kierkegaard

I will be participating in the “Ciclo de conferencias ‘Europa en la cultura'” held at the Universidad Andina Simón Bolívar, Ecuador.

The conference takes place next week.

Tuesday the 10th of December, I will be given a talk on “Kierkegaard and the concept of love as a political force.”

“Everything I do I do with love, and so I also love with love,” Kierkegaard writes in Either-Or.

***

The following two days, the 11th and 12th respectively, I will be organizing two seminars or lectures on “Philosophy, literature and a new therapeutical approach to life.”

During these seminars, I will relate my thoughts to philosophers such as Deleuze, Weil, Murdoch and Wittgenstein to both problematize our current achievement society, as well as proposing possible escape routes. To strengthen my argument, I will–briefly–refer to artists such as Olafur Eliasson, Karl Ove Knausgård, Marcel Proust, Virginia Woolf and Roberto Bolaño.

If you happen to be in Quito, Ecuador, you’re welcome!

Catching life

Recently, I bought a boxset with the Television series Twin Peaks and David Lynch’s book Catching the Big Fish. 

“Ideas are like fish”, Lynch writes. “If you want a little fish, you can stay in the shallow water. But if you want to catch the big fish, you’ve got to go deeper.” It is well-known that Lynch uses transcendental meditation to go deeper. Everything there is, comes from the deepest level, he says, which modern physics call the Unified Field.  “The more your consciousness—your awareness—is expanded, the deeper you go towards this source, and the bigger the fish you can catch.”

Reading this little book while watching Twin Peaks was illuminating. For example, the series opens with the log women speaking and telling us what it’s all about, she ends up saying: “Laura is the one.” 

She, Laura Palmer, is the Unified Field. Everything that happens in Twin Peaks, is related to her: Laura Palmer. 

The whole series is drawing a map of a complex totality as a way of gradually going deeper and deeper. For example, in later episodes, the log women speaks about dreams and ideas. The FBI special agent Dale Coper often gets his ideas, or clear up a misunderstanding, in his dreams, perhaps as an illustration of the “hidden” potential that lies deep within – something unconscious, something still unknown, waiting to actualized.

I recall seeing the series when I lived in small town (some years younger than the young bunch of main characters, some of which I found both cool and very attractive back then). Twin Peaks caught my attention like no other series had before (and not like anyone else had until I saw the first season of True Detective). 

Lynch, reminds me of the Danish poet and film instructor Jørgen Leth, who I once wrote a book about. (I encountered Leth’s poems and films more or less at the same time, I saw Twin Peaks). Leth is also semi-inspired by a humble philosophy where you’re open for whatever happens; you take it, whatever it is, and use it as good as you can. In continuation of Leth (and later with the Chilean writer Roberto Bolaño), I’ve tried to develop a poetic and attentive philosophy, where the senses are all active. 

Both Lynch and Leth mention how certain coincidences that happened at their filmset later were integrated into their films, making them better. They both believe that time should be allowed to unfold as it unfolds. Time is not a passive medium within which acts are placed; rather, time is immanent “within” action, when opening for or making another possible future actual. They both believe that everything is connected.

I emphasize that everything is connected or interconnectivity, recalling the Norwegian eco-philosopher Arne Næss who once said something like: if I destroy another life, I also destroy myself to some degree. Why? Because relations compose who I am, who we are. Relating this idea to a small community like Twin Peaks, then the life of each one of the characters is not sustainable without the others, and vice versa. The death of Laura Palmer is, therefore, not only a tragedy for her and her closest relations; rather, it’s an attack on the social bonds that holds this community together. 

Perhaps Twin Peaks can be seen as how fragile or vulnerable these social bonds are when we focus on money, power, greed and hate, and how these bonds can be strengthen through friendships, honesty, trust … stressing something like an equal value of all lives. For example, special agent Dale Coper listens to all citizens with equal care and interest, even those we (the viewers) might look at with skepticisms. He is a fairly good person.

Seeing Twin Peaks and reading this little simple book brought me back to my own youth—perhaps not as something deeper (not sure I agree with Lynch’s vertical metaphor)—but as an expanding of my consciousness, reconnecting with these basic social bonds of love, care and friendships. Catching moments of life.

In a way, re-watching Twin Peaks made me recall how ethics is generous. It gives or shares without asking for anything because it passes on what cannot be owned: love, friendship or social bonds.  

Isn’t philosophy’s first virtue to be humble as in curious, open, available?  

Luften i Catalonien

De catalanske seperatisters adfærd er sadistisk, mens de ekstreme højre-kræfter i Spanien er masochister. Og modsat , hvad nogen tror, så er sadisten ikke interesseret i masochisten og omvendt.

Drengen er ni år gammel. Når han synger, kan man se, at han mangler to tænder, og allerede har tre plomber. Jeg stirrer ind i den åbne mund, mens han brøler “som gent pacifica”, hvilket er catalansk, og betyder “vi er et pacifistisk folk.”

Drengen har, som så mange andre børn – også yngre – været til demonstrationer med sine forældre. Nogle gange kun den ene part, hvis den anden part ikke er separatist.

Sådan er dagligdagen i den spanske region Catalonien – både politiseret og polariseret. Flere lærere bærer synlige politiske symboler, og de lærere, som ikke ønsker at deltage i en demonstration, mister anseelse blandt de andre. Hele tiden dette mentale pres.

En lærer fra mine børns skole, hvor hovedparten af forældrene er tilhængere af uafhængighed, fortæller mig, at børnene i skolegården leger politi mod personer, en variant af politiet mod røverne. Blandt tilhængere af uafhængighed er politiet de slemme. Der er altid denne klare dikotomi i regionen. Intet er til debat, der er ingen tvivl eller usikkerhed. Spanien er de onde, mens selvstændighed er løsningen.

Læs resten af kronikken i Berlingske.

Kronikken var åbenbart mere end “la Generalitat de Catalunya” (Den nordiske delegation), kunne klare. De valgte i hvert fald at kontakte Berlingske for at fortælle, at mine eksempler ikke bare var forkerte, simple og trivielle, men også, at de, selvfølgelig kunne være avisen behjælpelige med de “rigtige” fakta. Et glimrende eksempel på, hvordan politiske institutioner prøver at manipulere, hvilket svarer til hvad filosoffen Gilles Deleuze kaldte “kontrolsamfundet.” Eller hvad mange blot vil kalde patetisk ynk!

Where Does the Wind Come From?

“Where does the wind come from?” my son asked. I wetted my finger and stuck it in the air. A mild and gentle breeze cooled one side of it. “That side,” I said, pointing nowhere. “OK,” he said.

Afterward, I thought about the problem that arose from the question, “Where does the wind come from?” The wind doesn’t really blow from one mouth. Even rivers don’t have just the one mouth. Rivers are constructed by their surroundings: the mountains, the rain, nearby lakes, and the ocean, to name but a few. There is no origin. Similarly, the wind comes from everywhere and nowhere. 

Perhaps everything comes from there: from nowhere.

Read the rest of the essay in Sky Island Journal

Stakkels Jim

Til foråret udgiver jeg romanen Stakkels Jim.

Her er lidt info fra forlagets hjemmeside:

Finn Janning er forfatter og filosof. Han har studeret filosofi og erhvervsøkonomi på Copenhagen Business School, samt litteratur og filosofi på Duke University i USA. I 2005 forsvarede han sin Ph.d.-afhandling A DIFFERENT STORY – Seduction, Conquest and Discovery. Senere har han studeret mindfulness på Universidad de Zaragoza i Spanien.

I 2010 udkom romanen Du er (ikke) min? – en kærlighedshistorie om et besættende begær, om utroskab, der sætter ægteskabet og til sidst kærligheden på spil “for børnenes skyld”.

I 2016 udkom Jannings anden roman Hvem myrdede Gilles Deleuze? – der følger en mands selvudslettende forsøg på at opklare, hvem den skyldige er, når et selv begår selvmord.

Romanen Stakkels Jim udkommer på Brændpunkt i foråret 2020, og tager os med på en episk rejse gennem døden, venskaber, kunsten, og hvad det overhovedet vil sige at være (eller ikke være) et menneske. Efter sin storebrors død går Jørgen til grunde. Ulykkelig af sorg flår han sig løs af sin fortid, og forvandler sig til kunstneren Jim. Undervejs i sin forvandling møder han den jævnaldrende Iggy, der bliver et holdepunkt i Jims turbulente liv. På en druktur lover Iggy – mest i sjov – at fortælle historien om Jims kunstnerliv. Men da Jim en dag forsvinder, føler Iggy sig forpligtet til at dele sin vens historie; en historie, der viser sig at gemme på en skræmmende hemmelighed. For hvad sker der, når vi kan se et andet menneskes liv? Skal Iggy fortælle hele historien?

Finn Janning bor og arbejder i Barcelona.

Frihed og moralske forpligtelser

Frihed opstår, når man er klar, det vil sige intellektuelt moden, til at lade sig binde af moralske forpligtelser og en respekt for andre mennesker, der tænker en smule anderledes. Så langt er de catalonske separatister endnu ikke kommet. Til gengæld er de gode til at marchere i takt. Og lige for tiden også gode til at brænde biler af.

Det har altid interesseret mig, hvordan vi mennesker opfinder måder, hvorpå vi kan føle os bedre end andre mennesker, eller bedre end en anden gruppe mennesker. De fleste af os kender til de sørgelige eksempler, som kan rubriceres under racisme, sexisme, misogyni og så videre. Uanset omstændighederne, så findes der i mine øjne ikke noget værre end denne form for selvforherligelse på bekostning af andre.

Af samme grund har jeg heller ingen sympati for de catalonske separatisters uafhængighedskamp. Jeg kan føle empati for deres frustrationer og vrede, forstå de unge menneskers energi, men – og det er et enormt vigtigt men – jeg har også set, hørt og erfaret, hvordan de catalonske separatister ophøjer sig selv på bekostning af resten af Spanien, inklusive de mange cataloniere, som ikke ønsker selvstændighed.

De catalonske separatister er ikke bare bedre, klogere, og mere arbejdsomme, end resten af Spanien, de er også moralsk overlegne. Ifølge dem selv.

Faktisk ophøjer de sig selv så meget, at de mener at være over loven. Ligesom de mener at have en særlig forståelse af begreber som demokrati, fascisme og frihed, som intet har med love, sandhed og moralske forpligtelser at gøre. De catalonske separatister tror, at de kan blive frie ved at kappe alle bånd til andre end sig selv. De er blevet fanget af deres egen selvpromoverende fortælling, der ganske paradoksalt fastholder dem i ufrihed.

Frihed opstår, når man er klar, det vil sige intellektuelt moden, til at lade sig binde af moralske forpligtelser og en respekt for andre mennesker, der tænker en smule anderledes. Så langt er de catalonske separatister endnu ikke kommet. Til gengæld er de gode til at marchere i takt. Og lige for tiden også gode til at brænde biler af.

Finn Janning er filosof og bosiddende i Barcelona

indlægget bragt i Information, 21. oktober 2019

Is this the right way?

Late one August evening in a small provincial town, a woman steps out her front door. In her hand, she holds a slim leather briefcase, probably containing a laptop. When she steps down from the small landing in front of the door, a mild breeze fills the air, gently tousling her long blond tresses. She tries to pull her hair back behind her ears without any luck. From the back pocket of her jeans she pulls out a bandeau and ties those unruly locks into a simple ponytail. Now, with no hair interrupting her vision, she looks first to the right and then to the left before turning around to lock the door behind her. After checking twice that the door really is locked, she rotates to face the street for the second time. 

This time she looks to the left first. Actually, at this point, her whole body shifts as she evaluates the possibility of going in that direction. 

Is this the right way? 

Read the rest of the essay in Terse Journal.

Breathe with Me

This is the culmination of one individual’s therapeutical breath work during burnout and how it became a collective line of breaths in New York.

The writer

The artist

Kierkegaard: A Responsible Philosopher?

Søren Kierkegaard (1813 – 1855) is without a doubt the greatest Danish philosopher. The father of existentialism. In a very simple way, he lived his philosophy. After all, to exist means not only to be alive and breathing but also to “stand out.” 

I always visualized existentialism as a vibe board, where a particular life stands out in an ocean of other lives. The image is romantic but it fits with Kierkegaard. He stood out. 

To the world he is known for setting the tone for such themes as fear, guilt, and anxiety, but also for choosing the choice, freedom, and love. In Denmark, his name is spoken with a certain amount of reverence because it can be difficult not to be seduced by his vision of life and poetic style, but also because he was radical. For example, Kierkegaard was openly critical of democracy when he elevated the individual above the crowd. In fact, he would not see imprisonment in isolation as one of the worst forms of punishment, because the truth emerges, undisturbed, between the individual and God. 

For Kierkegaard, I suggest, it all comes down to four important concepts: the self, truth, freedom, and one’s relationship to God.

Read the rest of the essay in Erraticus

Haste Makes Waste

“Of all the ridiculous things,” the Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard writes, “the most ridiculous seems to me, to be busy—to be a man who is brisk about his food and his work…What, I wonder, do these busy folks get done?”

Busyness, unlike what some might believe, does not signal importance, but rather is proof that the busy person does not know where he or she is headed here in life. Being busy is like a robot running around looking for an input. Haste makes waste. It is ridiculous.  

Haste is closely tied to general inattention (e.g. how we relate with care and awareness to what is happening). Do we learn from our previous experiences or disregard them? For example, hangovers or moral scruples can get many people to drink a little less the next time. If not after the first time, then the second. 

Haste becomes waste is intimately tied to the fact that many people have forgotten to inhabit their body. To acknowledge is not a passive activity like digesting a sandwich, but something active. An inhabitation of the body is involved. It moves in the direction of sound, of smell, of touch. The body can help us connect with life by qualifying the extent to which there is a reason to hurry. For example, upon hearing a child scream, I can turn to see whether the child is doing so because her father is swinging her about in affectionate play. 

One of the first Western psychotherapists, Wilhelm Reich, was interested in how the body’s energies influence the mind. Reich believed that the unconscious was not located in the brain but rather flowed through the body’s soft tissue. Although it is possible to feel bodily sensations such as pain, tension, and tenderness, most of us are rarely conscious of our body—until it hurts. In the day-to-day, most of us are unconscious about our bodily sensations: we live primarily from the neck up.  

This can be reminiscent of Mr. James Duffy from James Joyce’s short story, “A Painful Case” (1914): “He lived at a little distance from his body, regarding his own acts with doubtful side-glances.” Mr. Duffy lives without contact to his body, which he views askance as if his body did not belong to him. Whose ass is it he sees in the mirror? 

Perhaps, the rushing people Kierkegaard refers to as ridiculous are only chasing their minds. They might not even notice their own busyness. The morale is that all of the bodily sensations that are not felt or registered can be considered unconscious. Thus, the unconscious is not something deeply concealed, but just something as yet unknown. Haste becomes waste because we have no time to explore or examine life—in the here and now. As Plato’s hero Socrates states, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” Why not adopt this statement for all aspects of life and suggest: the unexamined friendship, relationship, profession is not worth being in or doing?

To examine requires the opposite of haste such as paying attention potentially. 

Although it is customary to blame the Internet and social media for most wrongdoing, I do not think the concept haste makes waste can be explained by increased speed and technology alone. It is more likely tied to a fundamental lack of attention to and ignorance about what is important. Life today is filled with people suffering from sensory amputation. They rush around without getting anywhere. This may sound arrogant, but next time you meet a busy person, who is always in a rush, ask where he or she is heading. The simple question might shock them to slow down and actually think. 

Like the rest of us, they too come from nowhere getting elsewhere. The point is to slow down once in a while, and do nothing. I do nothing every day. Perhaps—at least, it happens for me—then we realize if it is worth going anywhere—and going there fast. In the end, we are all heading toward our death. 

The question is whether we take the opportunity to live while we can.  

This thing called vacation is a welcome opportunity to slow down, pay attention and examine whether your life is worth living. Most people rush for a reason. Seldom this reason is what makes their life worth living. 

First published in Erraticus, August 7, 2019

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑