Humanisme og kapitalisme – til døden jer skiller

Der er de senere år sket en kapitalisering af humanismen. En kapitalisering der i stadig højere grad gennemstrømmer det moderne menneskes måde at tænke og begrebsliggøre verden og eksistensen. På trods af de mange fordele ved partnerskabet advarer Finn Janning i denne artikel mod en yderligere applicering af den kapitalistiske model på menneskelivet. I takt med den kapitalistiske models fortsatte applicering på livet, udgrænses nemlig nogle af de allermest fundamentale mulighedsbetingelser for udvikling og liv.

Fra opposition til parløb

Noget af det første, man lægger mærke til ved arbejdsmarkedet, er, at det er præget af kontrol. Den menneskelige kapacitet sættes i systemer, hvor den kan måles og vejes som en ressource. Der sker en kapitalisering af det humane.

Normalt ville de fleste nok karakterisere humanisme og kapitalisme som et umage par. Hvor humanismen forbindes med en frigørende menneskelig dannelse, forbindes kapitalen med en regulerende, styrende og kontrollerende mekanik. Det paradoksale er dog, at humanisme og kapitalisme i dag fremstår som et glimrende par. Humanismen er blevet kapitaliseret. Alt lige fra uddannelse henover arbejde til kærlighed og sex skal i dag kunne betale sig. Vi kan alene se det på det sprogbrug, vi anvender om sociale og eksistentielle emner, fx når vi investerer i et kærlighedsforhold. Samtidig tillægges kapitalen sit eget liv, fx når flere og flere ønsker mere luft i økonomien. Frihed er blevet lig med økonomisk frihed. Alt hvad vi gør, motiveres af penge, fordi vi med penge kan erhverve alle de ting som dominerer os: computere, biler, status og magt.

Denne kapitalisering af humanismen er tæt forbundet med to gensidigt forstærkende fænomener: Det ene er kapitalen, som ønsker kontrol, ro og orden; det andet, skyldes at angsten er blevet livets vejleder. Vi er i stigende grad blevet bange for ikke at kunne slå til på kapitalens domæne, nemlig arbejdsmarkedet. På den måde er nysgerrigheden, det afvigende, imaginationen og det uforudset blevet forsøgt homogeniseret. Vi har ikke råd til, at et helt livs tilpasning til arbejdsmarkedet gennem alverdens institutioner, spoleres af mulige kættere.

I de sidste 10-15 år er den menneskelige dannelse, nærmest blevet synonym med kapitalens interesser. På Handelshøjskolen i København har man i de sidste mange år skabt en masse passende kombinationsuddannelser (filosofi, psykologi, kommunikation kombineret med erhvervsøkonomi), som kan imødekomme erhvervslivets behov. Efterspørgslen af bestemte kompetencer styrer udbuddet af uddannelser. Dette betyder, at den menneskelige dannelse ikke længere forløber gennem alverdens umulige og indviklede alfarveje, men i en disciplineret løbebane, der på sigt vil sikre mere økonomisk velfærd. Samme tendens er vi vidner til indenfor kunsten, hvor forfattere og kunstnere ofte vurderes efter hvor meget de tjener, hvorved et værks værdi i stigende grad gøres lig med dets økonomiske indtjening.

Det urene, irrationelle og uverificerbare liv kontra det lineære, målbare livssyn

Resultatet af denne udvikling er blandt andet, at en masse aktiviteter, som bedst kan rubriceres som ikke-arbejde, ikke tillægges den enorme kreative og innovative værdi, som rent faktisk produceres. Kapitalen er slet ikke modtagelig over for den dynamik, der kommer udefra. Her tænker jeg blandt andet på de relationer og forbindelser, som ikke kan bestemmes med én identitet. Tilfældige møder på gaden, film og litteratur kan alle vække tanken fra dens slumrende hi; idet tanken er en bevægelse der samtidig er det stof, der bevæger den. Der er tale om en ikke-normativ praksis, hvor den umiddelbart udstødte på et senere tidspunkt kan bryde med det kapitalistiske system ved at udvide dette indefra. Et eksempel herpå er små forlag, hvis ukendte forfattere pludselig slår igennem. Eller tilsynekomsten af alternative livsformer, som endnu ikke er blevet paralyseret af den kapitalistiske orden. Dette kunne fx være unge medarbejdere, som ikke ønsker at blive ledere pga. de lange arbejdstider, folk der dropper karrieren i en alder af 40 år eller de alternative livsformer, som blandt andet samspillet mellem kunst og design kan åbne op for.

Måske er det passende at sammenligne kapitalen med en hysterisk rengøringsassistent, der vil have rene og klare linier, hvilket på ingen måde stemmer overens med livets spraglethed.

Livet er urent. Det er fuld af metamorfoser, minoritet og alternativer. Hvor kapitalen ensidigt satser på kvantitet, handler livet om kvalitet. Anvender vi tanken om et åbent netværk som et billede på livet, så kan vi sige, at et åbent netværk, modsat de fleste labyrinter, ikke har én privilegeret ind- eller udgang. Derimod er der tale om et kludetæppe af intersektioner, dér hvor forskellige tanker, følelser og kræfter støder sammen. I livet kan man kan begynde, hvor man vil og bevæge sig rundt i det åbne netværk ad de mange forskellige spor. Sagt anderledes: Livet er ikke at sammenligne med kapitalens klassiske forestilling om én stairway to heaven. Ifølge kapitalen skal det enkelte menneske først igennem forskellige institutioner og uddannelser for på et tidspunkt at nå dertil, hvor vedkommende kan starte som juniorkonsulent i en større virksomhed. Og her fortsætter rejsen så frem mod den lidt mere prestigefyldte rolle som seniorkonsulent, senere partner eller chef, for måske på et senere tidspunkt at ende i den jordiske himmel som administrerende direktør. En persons titel fortæller omverden, hvor meget en person endnu mangler for at komme i himlen, en mangel der altid definerer det enkelte menneske negativt. Du kan altid tjene endnu mere!

Problemet er selvfølgelig ikke, at de mennesker, der ender som direktører, ikke har gjort sig fortjent til en behørig respekt. Snarere at respekten alene er forbeholdt de personer, der ender som direktører og i anden ombæring de personer, som kæmper heroisk herfor. Hvorimod mennesker uden for arbejdsmarkedet er, hvad den italienske filosof Giorgio Agamben kalder en homo sacer, en lovløs, der er dømt. Man kan bede den arbejdsløse om hvad som helst, men samtidig har den arbejdsløse ikke mange rettigheder .

Den nye værdiledelse som kompleksitetsreducerende værktøj

Når menneskelige erfaringer, oplevelser, følelser og tanker afkodes til et spørgsmål om penge og magt, så hæmmes de menneskelige udfoldelsesmuligheder. Livets rumlige mangfoldighed reduceres til en tidslig retlinethed, hvor de forskellige delmål afspejles i titlernes medfølgende status. Modsat kunne man sige, at vi som menneske aldrig bliver færdige med fortiden, idet fortiden er en aktiv bevægelse i det enkelte menneskes arbejde med sin egen historie. På den måde er tiden ikke retlinet, men rummelig og kaotisk.

Fastholder vi billedet på livets rigdom som et åbent og fluktuerende netværk, så præsenterer de forskellige intersektioner i dette åbne netværk forskellige møder, fx mellem forskellige mennesker eller kulturer. Der er tale om møder hvis umiddelbare tilfældighed kan vise sig at kaste nødvendige og muntre erkendelser af sig. Ethvert nedslag eller møde i livets netværk er derfor ikke en svag afglans af et ideelt netværk, som det er tilfældet i kapitalens delmål på en persons ”stairway to heaven”. Derimod er disse intersektioner eller møder dele af det åbne netværk, en slags cross over, der kan fremtrylle noget nyt ved hjælp af tilsyneladende uforenelige kræfter. Det er denne udvidelse, som gør det muligt at tænke flere livsformer sammen, der er uopnåelig for det kapitalistiske retteark, et retteark som flere og flere mennesker lever efter. Det gør flere af førnævnte to grunde: Ens rolle i det kapitalistiske system, nemlig ens arbejde, er blevet det altdominerende og eneste saliggørende i dagens arbejdssamfund. Kombineres denne udvikling med angsten for at miste denne identitet og ryge udenfor, så ved vi hvorfor virksomheder har haft stort held med at fortælle os, at vi konstant må omformes, forandres, forbedres og rettes til. Dette er selvsagt problematisk, idet ét liv forudsætter flertal; dét er en mængde uden struktur. Noget som kapitalen konstant strukturerer og gør enfoldigt.

Såfremt det humane, mennesket og livet i flertal ikke skal kapitaliseres fuldstændigt, så må vi vedkende os, at livets mangfoldighed har en ontologisk status. Det mangfoldige er, før der er én. Kapitalen forsøger hele tiden at tænke livet i ental, som én enhed her og én mangfoldighed der. Jeg vil prøve at præcisere dette yderlige gennem et eksempel.

Vi har et menneske, og vi har et arbejdsmarked. Ifølge den traditionelle kapitalistiske opfattelse er et menneske enten medlem af arbejdsmarkedet eller ikke med. Men mellem enten-eller, inde eller ude i forhold til arbejdsmarkedet, er der en uendelighed af værdier. Det vil sige, at grænserne mellem arbejde og ikke-arbejde er flydende. Og det er hele dette mellemliggende spektrum mellem arbejde og ikke-arbejde, mellem at være en del af arbejdsmarkedet eller ikke, som kapitalen slet ikke kan håndtere, ej heller betragter. Produktiviteten finder reelt sted alle steder. Dikotomien mellem arbejde og ikke-arbejde er i den immaterielle økonomi blevet uskelnelig, selv når vi er på toilettet tænker vi stort. Mon det var dét Marcel Duchamp ville gøre os opmærksom på med sin Fontain?

Duchamp lærte os at selv de mest ydmyge steder eller genstande, besidder træk og egenskaber, som vi desværre sjældent er opmærksomme på. Relaterer vi dette til produktivitet, så betyder det at alle kan lære af hinanden, alle steder.

Et andet eksempel på kapitalens moraliserende reduktion af ét liv, er vi vidner til i forbindelse med nogle de ledelsesmæssige tiltag, som blev foretaget i firserne og halvfemserne. Her begyndte mange virksomheder at fokusere på etik og værdier. Jeg tænker blandt andet på værdiledelse og mangfoldighedsledelse. Skønt de humanistiske intentioner så har det vist sig, at værdierne har vist sig mest værdifulde som en eksklusionsmekanisme og som kompleksitetsreducerende. Denne angst for kompleksitet er ganske synonym for kapitalen, endskønt jo mere komplekst vi kan tænke, desto væsentligere vil vores forslag eller forbedringer være. Lidt firkantet kunne vi sige, at jo mere virksomheder leder efter værdier, desto mindre forstår virksomheden. Værdiledelse er en måde, hvorpå virksomheder begrænser deres eget manøvrerum for ikke at virke inkompatible. Dette er én måde, hvorpå kapitalen har været med til at gøre angsten til et livsvilkår eller en livsvejleder for mange. Med vores ensidige fokusering på penge og profit, minimerer vi vores tro på, at uforudsete afvigelser kan berige os. Vi minimerer vores tro på denne ene verden, fordi vi udsætter troen herpå til næste lønningsdag.

Den manglende tro på dét der er, bliver endnu mere tydelig i forbindelse med mangfoldighedsledelse, hvor det mangfoldige er blevet til et spørgsmål om kvantitet, ikke kvalitet. Penge taler tilsyneladende et sprog, hvis forførende kraft end ikke digtere og forfattere kan matche. Virksomhederne vil gerne signalere mangfoldighed med ansættelser af kvindelige ledere, medarbejdere med forskellig etnisk og religiøs baggrund, så længe alle blot tænker det samme. Der er tale om en strategisk omsorg, ikke en interesseret og solidarisk inkorporering af et større og mere rummeligt ”vi”. Devisen er klar: Bliv som OS og VI kan lide dig. Så længe der reelt ikke er handlefrihed og tankefrihed, så nytter camouflagedragten ikke. Modsat ville jeg ønske, at virksomheder ville kunne inkorporere det, som eksisterer udenfor grænserne for det, de normalt accepterer, det som eksisterer udenfor de kendte kategorier og tanker. En bevægelse hinsides kapitalens grænser ved at inkorporere et alternativ, som kunne sprænge dennes rammer indefra. Det ville blandt andet betyde, at virksomhederne kunne blive til urene organisationer fulde af divergerende livsformer og tanker. En sådan uren organisation producerer nye værdier, som kapitalens begrebsapparat ikke kan begribe.

Den ubetingede gæstfrihed

Jaques Derrida har i sine skrifter plæderet for en ubetinget gæstfrihed, hvilket netop er et brud med denne form for lokumshumanisme, som førnævnte ledelsesteorier repræsenterer. Derrida taler om en gæstfrihed, hvor man ikke kun inviterer nogen på betingelse af, at vedkommende underkaster sig alt, hvad vi siger og gør. Han siger i et interview: ”Ægte og ubetinget gæstfrihed, gæstfriheden selv, åbner sig eller er på forhånd åben over for den, som hverken er ventet eller inviteret, over for hvem som helst, der ankommer som en absolut fremmed besøgende, som en nyankommen, ikke-identificerbar og uforudsigelig, kort sagt som den helt anden.”(Filosofi i terrorens tid).

En måde, hvorpå vi kan humanisere kapitalen, kan ske gennem en relancering eller revitalisering af kærligheden. En kærlighed til livets singulære kræfter, som hverken negeres eller reduceres. Kærligheden kan give mennesket dets mangfoldighed tilbage. Hvorfor elsker jeg netop hende, fordi, fordi, fordi… hvorfor elsker mit arbejde mig, fordi jeg skaber merværdi.

Det smukke ved kærligheden er, at den aldrig blomstrer på betingelse af, men altid på trods af. Den er uafhængig af den andens gengældelse. Det er gennem kærlighedens imødekommende gæstfrihed, at nye møder opstår, møder som kan vise sig at medføre givende og lærerige forandringer. Det handler derfor om at give plads til den anden, som en anden. Faktisk er kærlighed det eksakt modsatte af hele den kapitalistiske ide om noget for noget, som desværre gennemsyrer hele den vestlige verden. Kærlighed handler snarere om noget for noget andet. Hvor noget for noget altid forudsætter, at noget er betinget af noget bestemt, fx at virksomheden kerer for sine medarbejder, fordi de besidder visse rentable kompetencer, eller regeringen tilbyder dansk statsborgerskab, fordi vedkommende kan tjene penge og arbejde, så forudsætter kærlighedens noget for noget andet, intet. Kærligheden er intet andet end sig selv.

Måske er kærligheden en fiktiv følelse eller en følende fiktion, et brud på de gængse regler, hvorved der hele tiden opstår nye forbindelser imellem kræfter på tværs af grænser og klasser. Kærligheden hæfter sig ikke ved grænsernes kategoriseringer, men skaber mere virkelighed ved at virkeliggøre livets potentiale. Erkendelse er derved den gestus, der rækker kærligheden og derved skønheden videre. Kærligheden forventer intet til gengæld. Der er tale om et GRATIS gode; en uforpligtende gave. Det er trods alt altid kærligheden, der bringer os videre – aldrig pengene, som blot låser os fast i dyre boliger og lån.

At prise kærligheden er at prise menneskets ukrænkelighed; kærlighed er nemlig summen af alt humant. Kærligheden undfanges i og af det humane, og det humane forøges gennem kærligheden. Hvornår mon vi lærer, at kærlighedens pris blot er at prise den?

Trykt i tidsskriftet Turbulens.net, april 2006.


How far has the #MeToo movement progressed?

“Why treat women as children, regarding their “no” and “stop” as nothing but jaunty foreplay that only serves to test a man’s resolve?”

***

“Did he really do it? Did he ignore Kathryn Mayorga, who several times said “no” and “stop” while he penetrated her from behind? Yes, he did. ‘He’ being the Portuguese football (soccer) player Cristiano Ronaldo—one of the world’s most prominent athletes and, for the last three years, the world’s best football player.

Recently, the German news magazine Der Spiegel published a long, well-researched report dealing with what happened in a hotel room in Las Vegas in 2009 …”

In this essay, I use the accusations against Ronaldo as presented by Der Spiegel to reflect upon the question:  How far has the #MeToo progressed?

Read the essay in The Mindful Word.

Philosophy as fiction

“For me, philosophy is a way of living and not an academic discipline that requires you to swallow a certain amount of information to pass. Most great novelists are philosophers. The Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard once said that literature in order to become philosophy must become fiction. I like that. It also shows that the distinction between philosophy and literature is rather new—perhaps stemming from Kant—but does it matter if Nietzsche, Kierkegaard, de Beauvoir, and all the others are classified as philosophers or writers?”

Read the rest of the interview in Under the Gum Tree.

How Should I Live?

Before I try to give a decent answer, I would like to emphasize that I’m glad the question is personal. It refers to me, not you, or someone else. I don’t like moralizing, that is, telling other people how they should live, but I do like the element of self-knowledge and care that this question addresses.

Thus, “How should I live?” I should live a joyous life.

Life, of course, is full of both joy and sadness, suffering and pleasure. Some of these are related to individual limitations, e.g. intellectual abilities. Others are related to social or political circumstances, e.g. financial.

Still, a useful guide is to live in a way that enhances a life’s joyous moments regardless of the circumstances.

How do I do that? From the French philosopher Gilles Deleuze, I’ve learned that we always have the thoughts and feelings that we deserve. At first this can seem brutally arrogant, but what he aims at is that our mental state depends on how we relate to or approach our experiences. The challenge that we all share, regardless of setback or misfortunes, is how we become worthy of what is happening. This is not acceptance as a kind of resignation; rather, it’s an approach to life that confronts obstacles or setbacks by trying to create a new form of life that minimizes the effects of what is hindering ourselves from living freely.

Therefore, I should live as a compassionate fighter, that is, become a person that fights by exploring what a life may become. What is possible? I fight hate, discrimination, domination, violence, etc. because it kills life. And by involving myself in this fight — although I have to acknowledge my intellectual limitations – I feel better. Actually, I feel alive. And to live a joyous life is to have an intimate affair with life, to experiment, and dance with it.

I remember the Chilean writer Roberto Bolaño once said that children typically are full of joy, and then he wondered why it’s so, before answering, that they are alive.

It sounds like a tautology: a joyous life is synonymous with how I should live because joy emerges through appreciation of being alive, which I accomplish by destroying  everything that seem to hinder life from flourishing, just as I create room for things that flourish. Nothing comes for free, except death.

Joy and happiness require hard work.

A world of “alternative facts”?

In her essay, “Truth and Politics,” the philosopher Hannah Arendt wrote: “Freedom of opinion is a farce unless factual information is guaranteed and the facts themselves are not in dispute” (all quotes from Arendt are taken from Richard J. Bernstein’s brilliant book, Why Read Hannah Arendt Now).

Let me elaborate on that by referring to the #MeToo movement; the movement is, probably, one of the most interesting—and hopefully—sustainable movements of change in recent years. What concerns me here, however, is not who has the power to tell their story—although this is important as well—but how power shapes what any true story could possibly be. In other words, it’s obvious that most reasonable people welcome that women have both the courage and power to tell their stories, and yet, we should be careful not to let the label—#MeToo—paralyze the need for critical thinking regarding what is being said.

One way of blurring the distinction between fact-based truth (factual truth) and falsehood, as Arendt mentioned, is to claim that any factual truth is just another opinion. When dealing with abuse or violence is it enough to have an opinion about whether or not someone is being abusive? Without any sense of what is a so-called factual truth or facts, we too easily move into a fictional world of “alternative facts.”

Seen in this light, the accusation toward the writer Junot Diaz—to mention one recent example—might seem to neglect this distinction between falsehood and truth. Instead, the accusers tend to represent something Arendt would call propaganda. The issue here is not whether Diaz is a good guy or a bad guy, but how the accusers framed him as an abuser “under” the power of #MeToo, regardless of the factual truth of the matter. In doing so, the accusers have not only undermined the movement, but also showed—as Arendt also predicted—that they knew that many people don’t really care if they lie. Instead, many people will admire them (bandwagon mentality) for their tactical skills in accusing a well-known writer to gain publicity for themselves, or perhaps even to sell some books. As Bernstein writes: “Factual truth-telling is frequently powerless against image-making…”

Arendt also wrote: “The result of a consistent and total substitution of lies for factual truth is not that the lies will now be accepted as truth, and the truth defamed as lies, but that the sense by which we take our bearings in the real world—and the category of truth vs. falsehood is among the mental means to this end—is being destroyed.”  The possibilities for lying become limitless and, far too often, are met with little resistance. Referring to the Junot Diaz case and #MeToo, one obvious reason for this little resistance against falsehood can be that no sane person wants to appear as if they are against equality and respect, which the #MeToo movement represents. Yet, quite paradoxically, the power of this movement comes from telling the truth; the truth that is powerful enough without being fictionalized.

Arendt noted: “What convinces the masses are not facts, not even invented facts, but only the consistency of the system of which they are presumably a part.” Assuming that #MeToo is such a system, then, like all systems, it is maintained by the culture that the users install. Here, I prefer people who play fair, that care about the truth, that are capable of putting personal agendas aside to cultivate trust, respect, and equality which, actually, is what #MeToo is all about. Following the Junot Diaz case, the accusers appear deliberately to be committing what looks like a character assassin. Why? Some suggest envy, greed, hate, and even racism as motives… I’ve no idea. All I know is that the opposite of factual truth is deliberate lying. (On a similar note, see #MeToo exists in an ethical twilight zone).

Also I know that literature can help us experience the difference between falsehood and truth, it has the potential to confront us with our moral limitations. It can stimulate our empathy and make us recognize our need for compassion. In many important ways, writers and other artists hold a mirror to society that allows it to see its ugliness and its beauty. I think, we need to keep the madness alive—through art. We need this for the sanity of humanity.

In other words, writers must dare not to follow the herd. This requires writers who doesn’t simply moralize but who risk asking the ugly, offensive questions (see e.g. All women are not angels). The artist creates, imagines, and enlarges—and sometimes that is not pretty.

What is far worse than immoral art is when people—citizens in democratic societies—don’t know the difference between falsehood or truth, or when some people don’t really care. The theme that runs through Arendt’s thinking, according to Bernstein, is “the need to take responsibility for our political lives.” Lying and responsibility, of course, doesn’t go hand in hand. It never has. Instead, Arendt showed that organized lying and fictional image-making are techniques perfected by totalitarian regimes, she showed that the banality of evil comes from our inability to think, that is to say, our inability to question, doubt, wonder, analyze, and constantly debate and clarify the relationship between power, truth, and lying. “Thinking is an activity that must be performed over and over again in order to keep it alive,” Bernstein writes in another book called Violence.

The Junot Diaz case shows that we still, all of us, have a long way to go before the world is a safer place full of trust, respect, compassion, and equality for all.

Learn to philosophize

Today, we live in a society organized mainly by capitalism. Not only is making money an objective that guides many people’s lives, but so are prestige, status, and social identity. Even when corporations claim that “people come first,” they refer to their employees’ skills and experiences as “human capital” or “cultural capital.”

Everything we do is a currency that can be counted. This problem can be seen through two concepts: power and freedom.

Today, the power that controls us (i.e. status, prestige, identity) appears invisible unless we pay very careful attention. But—and this is the problem—we rarely pay attention because that which works as an invisible or imperceptible power is also what seduces us not to pay attention.

The consequence is that we are not free. Freedom can be seen as both a problem and a possibility. It is becoming, emphasizing that we become by combining courage to stand against dominating ideals and norms with the imagination that things could be different. Thus, freedom is more than my individual liberty to do whatever I feel like doing because that neglects how everything is interconnected. Freedom is social; it’s about succeeding in creating a sustainable future—together.

Most philosophers – and this is probably no surprise – suggest that thinking is the best remedy against today’s maladies. But in order to think philosophically (i.e. reflect, contemplate, analyze) we must be capable of loving, that is, relating to others and the world with care.

Socrates is the example. He philosophized for free. And he showed that philosophy is social. Perhaps for that reason is it difficult to philosophize today when we have become too narcissistic. “The narcissistic-depressive subject only hears its own echo… Social media like Twitter and Facebook aggravate this development, they are narcissistic media,” wrote Korean philosopher Byung-Chul Han In The Swarm.

The question, therefore, is: how do we learn to pay attention?

Philosophy and mindfulness in the schools

The answer is to bring philosophy and mindfulness to schools at all levels, although my errand here is at business schools. Business is, of course, part of the current problem as well as it can become a crucial part of the solution.

Mindfulness is easy to implement as a non-religious meditation practice which helps cultivate and strengthen our capacity to pay attention. With this in mind, future leaders can with greater success make sustainable and responsible decisions that are not grounded in their own egos, or the ego of the board members. The point is to cultivate an awareness that will gradually make it desirable to make decisions on behalf of others – if for no other reason, then because we are all connected.

The combination of philosophy and mindfulness, I believe, is one the strongest assets against today’s rigid achievement society that makes many of us suffer in a way that very few people realize that they themselves are the perpetrators of their own misery. It’s also a strong tool against the current idea that transparency per se is good, although it undermines the most elementary of human relations: trust.

Still, before future leaders can act in a sustainable way, they must be aware of what is actually going on. And it is here that business schools can be part of creating a better future for all, because instead of speaking about attention and concentration, we can develop it. And once future leaders are aware, they will also question some of the models used in business.

The blogpost was originally post at Esencialblog at Toulouse Business School – Barcelona.

Compassion – Toward an Ethics of Mindfulness

This work is guided by two hypotheses with one overall objective of establishing an ethics of mindfulness . The first hypothesis is the concept of moral motivator or in- tentional moral. Both Western philosophy and mindfulness operate with an intention influenced by their moral beliefs. The second hypothesis is the relationship between moral reasoning and wisdom. That is, our reasoning is affected by our moral belief . To combine those two theses, I introduce the concept compassion from mindfulness and the ethics based on the French philosopher Gilles Deleuze. Hereby, I suggest that by practicing mindfulness, one can develop his or her capacity for compassion, but also – this practice – is a «way of life» that can help protect the planet: an ethical practice.

Read the entire paper here: Compassion – Toward an Ethics of Mindfulness.

“Compassion – Toward an Ethics of Mindfulness” is published in the journal Mindfulness & Compassion, vol. 3, issue 1.

Løgnen er demokratiets død

Filosoffen Hannah Arendt havde et skarpt blik for forholdet mellem sandhed og løgne. Hun vidste, at det, som overbeviser masserne ikke er fakta, end ikke alternative fakta, men hvor stærkt noget kan opretholde den fortælling, som nogle ynder at se sig selv igennem.

Den fortælling, som Arendt talte om, svarer til hvad vi i dag kalder identitetspolitik, hvor enhver gruppe ser sig selv som særegne, hvorved de værner om deres egen fortælling med en nidkærhed, der til tider gør dem blinde for egne mangler, eller andre menneskers ideer og tanker.

Problemet i dag er det samme, som Arendt rejste midt i det tyvende århundrede, nemlig at de fleste ikke ønsker at tænke, de foretrækker at ignorere besværlige politiske problemer, eller de tyer til klicheer og fjollerier. Det sker, når vi ryster på hovedet af Trump, og siger: ”Sikke en idiot.” Intet synes for alvor at vække vores slumrende handlekraft. Og dette er demokratisk problematisk.

Det modsatte af rationel sandhed er ignorance. Og det modsatte af en faktuel sandhed er den bevidste løgn. Det nytter altså ikke at ignorere politikere (eller andre), der lyver. Det nytter heller ikke – ganske misvisende – at kalde en løgn for en holdning, som kunne man kalde en regnefejl en holdning. Den rationelle sandhed krymper, når nogen bevidst fordrejer, undlader, overdriver eller lyver om faktuelle sandheder (se Den der råber lyver)

Politisk populisme henvender sig til befolkningens følelser; følelser, der som alt andet kan være sande eller falske, velbegrundet eller ubegrundet, fornuftige eller ufornuftige. Følelser er afhængige vores overbevisning eller tro – altså den fortælling vi ønsker at identificere os med – og ikke, hvorvidt noget er sandt eller falsk.

Måske det hele kan summeres igennem Arendts spørgsmål: ”Hvordan sker det onde?” (se  Are We Thinking?) Det sker ikke fordi vi er dumme, sagde hun. Snarere på grund af mangel på omtanke og ubesindighed. Ren og skær dovenskab og ligegyldighed.

Et politisk og socialt engagement kæver en vilje til sandheden, fordi dette engagement skaber fremtidens fundament.

#MeToo exists in an ethical twilight zone

What do we think about when we think of the #MeToo movement? #MeToo is many things—it’s complex and conflicting; it addresses our collective memory (or lack thereof) and history; it touches upon social and economic class, religion, race, and, of course, most of all on gender. And it touches upon the glue of our society: trust.

A few weeks ago, I heard that the Boston Review had decided to keep the writer Junot Díaz on as a fiction editor. Yesterday, the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) cleared Díaz of allegations of sexual misconduct and verbal abuse.

In many ways, the whole “Junot Diaz case” can be placed within the post-truth era of fake news, which again is one of ethics. For example, the journalist Ralph Keyes claims in The Post-Truth Era: Dishonesty and Deception in Contemporary Life, “Deception has become commonplace at all levels of contemporary life.” He goes on to consider that we may have reached a stage in our social evolution that is “beyond honesty.”

The era of post-truth is also an era of moralism. Everything is too easily reduced to good and bad, as if no grey areas exist. This is also part of the rigid identity politics that characterize US politics today, which far too often produce a mindless label—as if only a black person can speak against racism, a homosexual against homophobia, a woman against male abusers. Such assumptions show a lack of imagination. They also avoid staring at all the grey areas. For example, the grey areas are probably the weakest points in the otherwise powerful and very welcome #MeToo movement, in which the Junot Díaz case can be placed since it deals with a man of power accused of behaving badly.

Morality typically deals with whether something is right or wrong. However, being moral is not always the same as being right. For example, a story isn’t true because its moral is, and vice versa. Furthermore, morality is not something unchangeable; rather, it’s a social artefact. Our moral norms change as a result of new knowledge. This knowledge, of course, should be convincing, valid, reliable, and trustworthy. Unfortunately, lack of trust seems to be the protagonist in this particular case.

“Post-truthfulness exists in an ethical twilight zone,” Keyes writes. “It allows us to dissemble without considering ourselves dishonest. When our behavior conflicts with our values, what we’re most likely to do is reconceive our values.” Keyes’ point is interesting. One of Díaz’s main accusers was the writer Carmen Maria Machado, who referred to a Q & A session she had with Díaz, where she claims he was “abusive”, “bullying” and “misogynist.” However, when confronted with a recording of this particular discussion, Machado was forced to admit she had been exaggerating, saying, “I’m not a victim of Junot Díaz. I’m a female writer who had a weird interaction with him.”

Weird, of course, is not necessarily misogynist.

Why did she lie? Did she deliberately stretch her wording to fit the #MeToo vocabulary? So far, Machado has not apologized—perhaps because she is afraid of people’s hate and judgment, or afraid of losing face, or afraid of being accused of lack of empathy. Or, maybe, she doesn’t care, maybe she distrust the institutions who cleared him… no one knows. However, what’s “interesting” is that Machado’s accusations violate trust, which we all need to coexist, regardless of age, gender, religion or sexual orientation, etc.

In an essay entitled “Truth and Politics“, the philosopher Hannah Arendt wrote, “Freedom of opinion is a farce unless factual information is guaranteed and that facts themselves are not in dispute.” Truth, therefore, is not the same as having an opinion. For example, Machado might have the opinion that the she was verbally abused, but in reality she is fictionalizing the truth, or creating “alternative facts” as we call it today.

***

The Danish philosopher K.E. Løgstrup said that trust is elementary or fundamental to human existence. Would I leave my three children at a public school every morning if I didn’t trust the teachers? Would I cross the street with them if I didn’t trust people to stop their cars at a red light?

Trust binds us together. It affects marriages, friendships, parents, and society, including politicians and scientists who inform us about the ecological disasters that humans are creating. Løgstrup emphasizes that human interdependence only works if we trust one another. Trust allows me to surrender myself into the hands of another, to make myself vulnerable, because I expect a respectful, compassionate, and trustful feedback.

Therefore, when Carmen Maria Machado lied about Díaz, it was not just a little white lie. Her words impacted everyone. Not only because she accused a well-known writer but because we trusted her. Some may have been skeptical of the validity of the accusations—thinking of sensationalism, etc., but, at the same time, #MeToo taught us the importance of believing the girls and women who had come forward so courageously. For too long, the victim has suffered unnecessarily because being a victim has been associated with shame. Shame is the reason why many women (and men) and children don’t tell about abuse.

When I discovered that Machado lied and didn’t correct her words until she was confronted a month later with an audio recording of the interview, she became less believable. When she was confronted with a recording, she appears annoyed and defensive but, surprisingly, she also appears to be angry for being exposed. “Stop lecturing!” she said. “That’s what’s so fucking weird. The level of condescension.”

And this is perhaps the saddest part. It may cause people to doubt the sincerity of #MeToo. Machado’s behavior perfectly fits with our cultural acceptance of lying. As Keyes notes in The Post-Truth Era regarding the rise in the use of euphemisms for deception: “We no longer tell lies. Instead we ‘misspeak.’ We ‘exaggerate.’ We ‘exercise poor judgment.’ ‘Mistakes were made,’ we say.” It’s as if we—many, at least—have become careless of what is true or not true.

If we want to change society into something better—a society based on equality, respect, and compassion—then we must trust one another. Trust is also the foundation of critical thinking because we assume that people say what they mean for the sake of the truth, not their own agenda (read: self-serving).

We become wiser by admitting our mistakes, that is to say be accountable for our actions and words, but also by acknowledging all the grey areas when it comes to human interaction, not just between men and women but between all kinds of identities—gender, race, age, culture, beliefs, etc. Let’s not forgot that all identities are prisons. They might make us see something more clearly from our own point of view but are often blind to a lot of other aspects. Let’s not forget that men and women should be able to discuss things without fearing being labeled misogynistic. Let’s not forget that nothing is ever completely black or white. Sometimes women lie, use their power; sometimes men are falsely accused.

The great writer Terry Tempest Williams once said that she wanted to bear witness to both the beauty and pain of our world in her writing. By “bearing witness,” she said, “the story told can provide a healing ground.” With regard to the case of Machado and Díaz, healing arises if their conflict is not used to draw a deeper ravine between genders but, instead, to acknowledge that all parties have suffered, and that trust is only gained through apology and change of actions that will make the grey areas less grey.

All women are not angels

Recently, Zoë Bossiere raised some questions regarding male writers. For example—while referring to a character in Junot Diaz’s two collections of short stories, Drown and This Is How You Lose Her—she asks: Could a sexist character like Yunior have been written if not for the abuse the women in these men’s lives suffered?

“Maybe not,” she answers.

Maybe not. But just as easily, maybe.

We tend to forget that imagination is a fundamental aspect of literature and art. I find it hard to believe that all the Scandinavian women writing crime literature are murderers. I doubt that Gillian Flynn, author of “Gone Girl,” has killed her old boyfriend, or wants to. Stephen King is probably not wildly evil, or even all that mean. And Han Kang, who wrote “The Vegetarian,” might not be a vegetarian, or like to be painted naked by her sister’s husband, or even have a sister.

Bossiere goes on and ask, “Some might argue that these works [by men]contribute to the greater canon of literature, but in the era of #MeToo, how much is ‘good’ art actually worth?”

I personally feel that it is not worth s–t if someone deliberately suffers in the process. By suffering I do not mean that, say, children might suffer due to parental distraction or absentmindedness. I mean suffering in a violent and abusive way.

Yet, I agree with the Norwegian novelist Karl Ove Knausgård who has defended writers who “run up against the limit of what cannot, shall not, should not or must not be written”, arguing that every time an author “refuses to shy away”, the arbitrary nature of such limits is revealed.

It may be difficult for many to distinguish the writer from his or her work, but it is important to do so. When we too quickly equate a person’s work of fiction with the person him or herself, it shows more a lack of imagination than moral reasoning.

Readers of course have every right to become political consumers and stop reading books by writers whose actions may be reprehensible. But I know that not everyone is Mother Teresa or the Dalai Lama, and I can accept writers with flaws. I can read Jean Genet or Ulrike Meinhof (the brain behind the Baader-Meinhof Gang that operated in Germany in the 1970s), and not feel the urge to steal or kill. Sometimes the best literature can confuse us, nauseate us, show us our moral flaws as well as our ignorance.

Still, men should not be excused on the basis of their literary genius for what they do in real life. Never. The same goes for women. It is not chauvinistic in the slightest to state that all women are not angels, just as all men are not sexual predators. Writing this, however, feels like putting a rope around my neck, because gender issues, especially in the #MeToo era, have become so contentious. Today discussion of the topic is governed by a cowboy mentality, in which everyone shoots first and asks questions later.

For example, in today’s gender debate, some men and women treat one another as men and women—not as human beings. It’s as if gender gets in the way of an unbiased interpretation of what is happening. I think it’s important to acknowledge that all kinds of judgement—about right and wrong, true or false—require time, reflection, and analysis. Today, perhaps due to social media—especially Twitter—it’s easy to contribute blindly. There is a strong herd mentality on social media.

Do we take time to dwell, to reflect, to add perspective, to provide nuance? Or do we just blame? And when we blame, are we doing so out of instinct, out of some latent hatred? And do people—writers included—consider what kind of words they are using to blame other human beings? For example, the term misogynist has become so popular and broadly used that it soon will lose its meaning.

The philosopher Kate Manne defines misogyny as not about hatred toward women but about controlling and pushing women who challenge male dominance. The crucial aspect is how men and women challenge one another—that is, whether the dialogue conveys respect, trust, and equality. In the literary and academic world, people will often defend their ideas or positions. Sometimes people do this with respect and care, other times with hostility. Sometimes it’s women being hostile; sometimes it’s men. Sometimes hostility is due to vanity, arrogance, insecurity, or plain stupidity, and sometimes it’s due to men (or women) being afraid of losing their powerful positions to women—or other men.

A recent example is a recording of a Q and A session with writers Junot Diaz and Carmen Maria Machado, during which Machado describes Diaz as a misogynist and a bully. To me, this interpretation seems wrong, but according to Manne, it’s the potential victim who defines whether Diaz is securing his power or not. And then, of course, we can interpret Machado’s actions and words, words she probably—being a writer—chose deliberately. Nietzsche said thinking is interpretation. It’s an ongoing process, and I would be very careful about labeling Diaz misogynist only on this recording or Machado a liar. Which leaves us where? Perhaps we are witnessing a power game fueled by both historical and current frustration, irritation, and hate—a situation where fiction and nonfiction merge, a situation where we no longer read novels based on their literary qualities but morally on whether the character is a good human being.

In an essay published in The New Yorker, Toni Morrison writes: “The choices made by white men, who are prepared to abandon their humanity out of fear of black men and women, suggest the true horror of lost status.” In other words, perhaps many of the problems debated today are not only about gender but much more about power.

We tend to forget that all human beings are worth the same when we focus too much on gender, skin color, or socioeconomic status. I know there is good reason for doing so (cf. Morrison’s essay on white men); still, the challenge is to encounter the present moment with an open and neutral mind full of compassion.

In short, in this quest for living equally and respectfully together, I think it is crucial that we all keep our heads cool and our hearts warm.

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