Preface to …

From my book, The Happiness of Burnout:

PREFACE

A proper philosophical question is: Which life is worth living? The question invites a plurality of answers from different perspectives. This plurality leads toward an affirmative practice that asks: How might one live a flourishing and happy life without any transcendent guidance?

This book deals with these questions. It tells the case story of the Danish artist Jeppe Hein’s (JH) burnout.

The material for this book is based on more than 100 hours of interviews with JH. Most interviews were unstructured. In addition, I interviewed his family and some of his closest friends. Interviews with the latter were more structured in order to check for accuracy; however, I also left a part of these interviews open to see whether I could obtain new knowledge or perspectives on the process.

During the process of writing this book, some memories changed. This is normal. Memories are not static, but something that we recreate or reedit in light of present events and new knowledge. This emphasizes that a life is never organized in a static fashion. It’s constantly being organized. A life is changing.

Thus, it can be tempting to see burnout as something that marks everything as either being before or after, at least for compositional reasons. Still, the relationship between the cause and effect is not something solid. Sometimes an effect can cause new causes to emerge. This stresses that ethic is a compositional capacity that uses narrative elements in order to tell, retell, or invent a room where various experiences can be expressed.

While I tell the story of JH, I will constantly mix it with other thoughts and ideas related to burnout. For example, I will present burnout as illustrated in Graham Greene’s novel A Burnt-Out Case. I will relate the story of JH to Greene’s thoughts. Also, I will add perspective by conversing with theories and thoughts from both psychology and philosophy—most notably the philosophy of Gilles Deleuze. Finally, I will relate JH’s story to his art.

The purpose of this is to create a broad site where certain experiences can fold, unfold, and refold in order to share thoughts related to how one might overcome the various setbacks that all lives encounter.

Finally, I might add that this book doesn’t aim to outline one roadmap to accomplish a life worth living. Basically, it does not believe that there is one truth regarding a happy life (or that any unchangeable certainties exist), nor that one path will be suitable for all. Rather, it offers different perspectives, addresses various challenges, and poses questions and ideas that some might find inspirational in his or her quest toward living a happier and flourishing life.

You can read more here.

Ikke-at

”Det 21. århundredes samfund er ikke længere et disciplinærsamfund, men et præstationssamfund,” skriver det tysk-koreanske filosof Byung-Chul Han i Træthedssamfundet. Den franske filosof Michel Foucaults disciplinærsamfund, der talte om biopolitik og lydighedssubjekter, hører en anden tid til. I dag er politikken blevet psykisk eller mental. Vi er blevet ”præstationssubjekter” i en fangelejr, hvor vi er både fange, fangevogter og gerningsmand. End ikke det en anden fransk filosof Gilles Deleuze kaldte for kontrolsamfundet, kan favne samtiden. Fælles for både disciplinær- og kontrolsamfundet er, at de rummer for meget negativitet.

Samtidens neoliberale præstationssamfund præges af ”et overmål af positivitet” – befriet fra det negative. Der er tale om en bevægelse væk fra det disciplinerende forbud: du må ikke, henover det mere kontrollerende påbud: du skal, frem mod præstationssamfundets motiverende: du kan. En konsekvens af denne terroriserende positivitet er stress, burnout, depressioner og fiaskoer. Der ligger et enormt pres i ”at kunne”, fordi logikken synes at være: hvis du kan, så skal du! ”Depressionen er først og fremmest en træthed i henseende til at frembringe og at kunne.” Depressionen er en narcissistisk sygdom.

Byung-Chul Han har de seneste år udgivet flere essayistiske bøger, der kritisk og originalt belyser samtidens neoliberale forfald. På dansk er udkommet Træthedssamfundet; en bog, som for alvor gjorde Han populær. Han tænker i forlængelse af den kritiske tradition i tysk filosofi. Dog er han ikke en del af Frankfurterskolens mere normative projekt. Snarere er han mere beslægtet med filosoffen Martin Heidegger, om hvem han også skrev disputats, især, når denne er mere poetisk i sin tænkning.

I Træthedssamfundet forsøger Han, at overskride tidens dominerende positivitet, hvilket blandt andet sker med reference til Buddhisme. ”I zen-meditationen forsøger man eksempelvis at nå frem til den rene negativitet i ikke-at, dvs. man søger tomheden, idet man befrier sig selv for det fremmasende noget, der trænger sig på.”

Præstationskulturens store problem er den omklamrende positivitet, der altid er knyttet til det ens, hvorved det negative, det fremmede, det andet eller anderledes, fx det ”ikke at gøre noget” fortrænges. ”Det er en illusion at tro,” skriver Han, ”at man er desto frier, jo mere aktiv man er.”

Når Han taler om et muligt Træthedssamfund, er det primært fordi ”den fundamentale træthed” rummer en livskraft. Den fundamentale træthed er ikke lig med den udmattelse, som præger præstationssamfundet. Tværtimod. Den er inspirerende. ”Den lader ånden genopstå,” skriver Han.

Med reference til forfatteren Peter Handke, som er fast følge i flere af Hans bøger, plæderer Byung-Chul Han for en ”inspirerende træthed”, ”en træthed i negativ potens, nemlig ikke-at.” Det er den form for træthed, som gemmer sig i fjumreåret, som danske politikere er så bekymrede for.

Han efterlyser en mellemtid, en tid til leg og fordybelse. Desværre har mange alt for travlt til at tænke, hvorved samtiden præges af åndeligt dovenskab. Han efterlyser at mennesket finder sin takt med livet, ikke kapitalens vækst- paradigme. Træthedssamfundet er stadigvæk aktuel. Mange forsømmer at være tilstede i livet, fordi de konstant føler sig tvunget til at gøre noget and at leve.

Trykt i Atlas Bogtillæg, maj 2015.

The Spirit of Meditation

In recent years, there has been a growing interest in Buddhism and mindfulness meditation as well as some new-age philosophies that are often nothing more than pale imitations of Buddhist techniques. The interest is obvious. We live in an achievement-orientated, performance based culture and we are constantly forced, and even force ourselves to do something, and to set new goals and so forth. The result is that we become less aware and experience more narcissism, stress and depression.

In Sarah Shaw’s The Spirit of Buddhist Meditation we are told “When the mind is restless, that it is time to develop the factor of awakening that is tranquility, the factor of awakening that is concentration and the factor of awakening that is equanimity.”

Meditation can in other words, help us to become more mindful. “Mindfulness is the true refuge of the mind, mindfulness is manifested as protection, and there is no exerting or restraining of the mind without mindfulness.”

After I finished reading this book I didn’t know whether I should be impressed by or doubtful of all those people who claim to be mindful, because it requires diligence and self-control. It’s certainly hard work.

For those who are interested in Buddhism it can — especially for newcomers — be difficult to separate the wheat from the chaff (such as much of New Age thinking). As Shaw stresses, “a good tradition, teacher and friends, along with text, are the best ways of finding out about meditation for oneself.” Shaw is a knowledgeable teacher and a caring friend.

She deals solely with the Buddhist tradition, although that doesn’t mean that she is critical towards the important contribution to mindfulness made by Jon Kabat-Zinn and others, it is simply that her focus lies elsewhere. Shaw wants to show us how the texts have always been an important part of sharing Buddhist practices. In addition, she attempts to illustrate that Buddhism compared to other religions is less dogmatic. Rather it consists of good advice that comes from experience, or to put it differently: if one wants to wake up, then it is not enough to believe, one must act, and for example, meditate.

The Spirit of Buddhist Meditation can, therefore, be viewed as a rich introduction to the multiplicity of Buddhism, but also — and perhaps more likely — as a thorough guide for the more experienced meditators, or those who are already familiar with the philosophy of Buddhism. The book is littered with illuminating phrases, such as “What is required is that we try to live here and now ‘in our bodies'” — “You breathe in and out all day and night, but you are never mindful of it, you never for a second concentrate your mind on it. Now you are going to do just this” — “if we cannot control our minds, it will be impossible to control our actions and speech.”

A wide range of Buddhist writings on meditation are investigated and those already familiar with reading original Buddhist texts will appreciate the mixture of anecdotes, practical tips and endless repetitions within the same text. Sometimes this repetition can become a little boring unless, of course, one really pays attention to the minor differences that the text unfolds. Perhaps, the texts are written like that on purpose to cultivate our awareness.

Another reason for the repetition is that many of the texts come from an oral culture where the teacher would chant aloud. This of course explains why the reading can, at times, be a challenge. It is like listening to a love song on the stereo. Without the instruments, the rhythm and pauses, the experience can often seem more flat.

The Spirit of Buddhist Meditation explains the eight fold path of meditation, how meditation is practiced (sitting, standing, walking) and provides instructions on how to breathe, explaining why breathing is the foundation of a spiritual practice. (I may add that the word spirit comes from the Latin spiritus, which is a translation of the Greek pneuma, meaning breath). We also learn why there is no sane reason for clinging on to anything. The goal of Buddhism is to release one from the cycle of existence (Nibbána) and here the meditator enters a sphere of nothingness where, if you believe it, birth is caused by death. However, if you don’t believe in reincarnation, and I am skeptical; then you can still be open-minded and admit that we do not know for sure what happens when we die. For most meditators though, the experience of death may be beyond reach unless a life lived in retreats is desired. Despite this, with some practice and guidance it may be possible to experience that “space is infinite”, even though this concept can make most people feel dizzy thinking about it. If this is possible, then we may also understand that “consciousness is infinite.”

Everything is interconnected but this is not only a Buddhist idea as it can also be found in ecological thinking, or in the works of Spinoza or Deleuze. We may cultivate an experience through meditations. Again, the point of Shaw’s study is not the engage with other philosophies or psychological traditions, but to show the richness within the Buddhist tradition.

The Spirit of Buddhist Meditation will most likely attract people who already meditate, or those who would like to do so. However, it can also serve as a useful introduction to Buddhism in general, as well as act as an inspiration for people who work in the growing service industry, helping people recover from the negative effects of modern day capitalism.

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Published in Metapsychology (Volume 19, Issue 23).

Camus

The French writer, Albert Camus was ‘a moralist who insisted that while the world is absurd and allows for no hope, we are not condemned to despair.’

Like this, the historian Robert Zaretsky presents Camus in the book, A Life Worth Living — with the subtitle, Albert Camus and the Quest for Meaning. Camus was a moralist, but not a moralizer. He did not judge from a higher or more lucrative position, but tried to grasp what took place. He tried to create meaning where none was given.

Zaretsky organizes his portrait of Camus around five key-concepts: Absurdity, Silence, Measure, Fidelity and Revolt. The concepts are strongly related; that is to say that certain points in Camus’ thinking are repeated, but never in a tiring way. On the contrary, Zaretsky develops an intimate portrait of Camus showing how it most likely was for him to be in this world. Camus is placed both in his historical context — whether it is the struggles between Algeria and France, or between Sartre and Camus — and in conversation with contemporary thinkers.

What do we learn about Camus?

Like Nietzsche, Camus detested any kind of resentment. He knew that being faithful was not a virtue in itself. Instead, one only ought to be faithful towards a life served in happiness. Happiness, therefore, seems to be the main thread in Camus’ struggle. Not as something shallow, but as an existential guide that could help him balance his thoughts. This is an interesting reading.

Happiness is, of course, a difficult task for Camus. First of all, the world is absurd. It is without any meaning. One must invent meaning, just as one must ‘create happiness in order to protect against the universe of unhappiness.’ At times one can only do so by being silent. As Camus says, ‘we do not write in order to say things, but in order not to say them.’

Camus was a pragmatic. He did not idealize life or describe it through theoretical abstractions. He wished to witness life as an experience — no matter how painful or beautiful it appeared. This practical approach caused him several problems, going from his battles with Sartre and Merleau-Ponty, especially their idealized Marxism, to the confrontation with an Algerian student who, the day before Camus received the Nobel Prize in literature, criticized Camus for his silence over Algeria. At one point, Camus famously said: ‘People are now planting bombs in the tramways of Algiers. My mother might be on one of those tramways. If that is justice, then I prefer my mother.’

Zaretsky portrays Camus as a real human being, albeit a bit more gifted than most of us. His most impressive achievement is, I think, that he succeeds in describing Camus’ quest for meaning as if it was a psychological case-study. Recent studies in psychology show that a one-sided quest for happiness can result in the opposite. Instead, having a purpose or being able to produce meaning is more important to make a life flourish. ‘Today,’ Camus said in an interview, ‘happiness has become an eccentric activity. The proof is that we tend to hide from others when we practice it.’ Sixty years later, happiness seems to be something quite ordinary, vague even, that the majority of people like to expose. And yet, whether eccentric or ordinary, a deep felt happiness — then as now — is something that requires ‘attention and effort.’ There is no quick fix for achieving a life worth living.

For Camus, suffering is part of thinking. It is related with one’s active involvement in life. Paying attention. Trying to make sense. One might realize that violence is ‘unjustifiable,’ because of one’s compassion and empathy. As a consequence, one acts. ‘Rebellion, Camus declares, is born of the spectacle of irrationality.’ Like the ancient Greeks, Camus based his thoughts on the idea of limits, Zaretsky says. Nothing should be carried to extremes. Nothing should be denied beforehand. The quest for meaning never stops.

I believe that Zaretsky’s book  is not only interesting for readers of Camus, laymen as well as scholars (i.e. scholars from various disciplines, e.g., literature, philosophy, history and psychology), but also for anyone who would like to change the state of things. It can serve as a toolbox for future moralist! Changing the world requires more than a glittering or candied ideal. In fact, it requires a courageous and honest sensuality that allows one to be touched by life and death as something real — an experience.

Camus questioned life from within this life, the only life there is. No appeal is possible. Still, if we trust Zaretsky, Camus lived a life worth living because of his ongoing quest for meaning, a quest that brought him moments of happiness. ‘For Camus, true nobility lies in lucid acceptance of the world, its beauties and its limits, its joys and its demands, its inhabitants and our common lot,’ Zaretsky concludes beautifully. Absurdity might ‘ambush us on a street corner or a sun-blasted beach. But so, too, do beauty and the happiness that attends it.’ All it requires is attention and effort.

This book is worth reading.

Naturen er ikke noget derude

For naturen er livet simpelt. Den er hinsides moralismen god versus ond. Den værner om livets mangfoldige forbindelser. Det hele hænger sammen, fordi der ikke er noget liv i sig selv; der er ikke andet liv end det, som er i færd med at blive: træet der vokser. Selv træet der er dødende er blivende.

Denne, sikkert, alt for naturlige indsigt erfarede jeg på en pilgrimsvandring i Norge i foråret 2014.

Sammen med min gode ven, kunstneren Jeppe Hein, var jeg fløjet fra Barcelona til Oslo. Fra Oslo tog vi toget til Dombås, der ligger cirka fire timer nord fra Oslo. Det var herfra vi skulle begynde vores pilgrimsvandring mod Nidarosdomkirken i Trondheim. I alt skulle vi vandre knap 270 kilometer.

Læs mere på pilgrimsvandring.dk

Which dish of noodles is your life worth?

Depression is a narcissistic sickness – Byung-Chul Han, Agonie des Eros

“We no longer live in a disciplinary society controlled by prohibitions or commands, but rather in an achievement-orientated society that is allegedly free,” says philosopher Byung-Chul Han in the documentary film Müdigkeitsgesellschaft–Byung-Chul Han in Seoul/Berlin. He continues, “Yes, we presume ourselves to be free, but in reality we voluntarily and passionately exploit ourselves until we collapse.”

German video artist Isabella Greeser directed this poetic documentary film about Han. The first part reflects upon the film Der Himmel über Berlin, directed by Wim Wenders and written by Peter Handke, perhaps because it’s Byung-Chul Han’s favorite film. Müdigkeitsgesellschaft–Byung-Chul Han in Seoul/Berlin had its world premiere on February 9 at the Centre de Cultura Contemporània de Barcelona (CCCB). A few hundred people attended the show.

Byung-Chul Han is popular not only in Germany, but also in Spain, where five of his books have been lated into Spanish. Han’s thesis is that today’s neoliberalism has made politics psychological, or mental. The logic of neoliberalism has invaded our minds. This is sad, since our mind is all we have. It’s our ability to be present in our life, to think, and to love that is threatened by this invasion. We shrink mentally. More and more is said and done in the same, almost hypnotic and uncritical fashion. All that is strange, secret, or negative—in other words, all that passes through our thoughts—disappears, due to the ongoing repetition of sameness. It seems like all aspects of life suffer from the idea of “best practice,” so popular in business organizations. We lack a critical yet creative approach to overcome this confinement.

In the documentary film, we follow Byung-Chul Han as he wanders the streets of Berlin. He talks about his passion for antiquarian shops, and at least here, time seems to endure. As he passes by the tomb of philosopher Georg W. F. Hegel, he says that he is “the most important philosopher for me.” One quickly realizes that Byung-Chul Han is in no hurry, although he publishes with the speed of Usain Bolt. Still, he doesn’t seem too motivated by performance as such. On the contrary, he stops. He sits down. He reads. He closes his eyes. He pauses. All of these are forms of resistance towards today’s positivity. Luckily, he is not part of what elsewhere he has called “the terror of positivity.”

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Philosophy is an intervening time, he notes in Müdigkeitsgesellschaft (Eng. Fatigue Society). Philosophy can be understood as the time of “non-doing,” “a peace time,” as he calls it, in reference to Peter Handke. The concept of “non-doing” also resembles elements of mindfulness in that it stresses that we don’t need to be doing things constantly. Non-doing allows things to unfold at their own pace.

Halfway through the film, Byung-Chul Han flies to Seoul, in South Korea. He was born there in 1959. In this part of the world, the relevance of the philosopher’s thesis and analysis becomes even more evident. People are exhausted. They sleep on the metro, on the busses, behind the cash register. It seems tragicomic. Those who are not sleeping live through the gleaming light of the ever-present cellphones. Do the cellphones work as pacemakers?

In Transparenzgesellschaft (Eng. The Transparency Society), Han notes that we are forced or coerced into participating in ongoing positive communication: declaring, “I like,” over and over, again and again. However, we don’t have to like everything. Social media forces people to communicate more. No pause. Perhaps because updates and news drop down quickly, one needs to keep adding new communications in order to remain visible. A non-visible person is like a non-existent person. It is exhausting.

This reminds me of French philosopher Gilles Deleuze, who once said that “art is not communicative, art is not reflexive. Art, science, philosophy are neither contemplative, neither reflexive, nor communicative. They are creative, that’s all.” However, in order to be creative, one needs to stop, allow oneself to be formed or touched by what is happening as it happens, without judging it according to some predefined ideal. Actually, I think that Han’s philosophy, like most forms of Buddhist meditation, tries to free us from the conventional illusion of having a self. Furthermore, unlike his German collegians at the Frankfurter School, Han is not normative in his critique, but immanent. This makes his approach more creative. Most of his critique is realized as practice. To stay with the vocabulary of Deleuze, then he points out liberating lines of flight that can change our relation to the world, for example, that it is ok not to do anything.

Byung-Chul Han claims in Agonie des Eros (Eng. The Agony of Eros) that we (far too many of us, at least) have become narcissistic. I find it difficult not to agree with him. Like Narcissus, more and more people fall into the water and drown. Or life vanishes while people are Googling their own name. Or they jump off a bridge. South Corea is on the top of the list of countries with the highest suicide rate. In the film Han passes by a bridge in Seoul that is a popular site for suicides. Apparently, no one attempts to understand the depression that leads many to commit suicide. Rather, the sadness is covered up with quotes from poems alongside colorful pictures of delicious noodle dishes. Which dish of noodles is your life worth?

Neoliberal capitalism has gone mad. Freedom has turned itself into a voluntary constraint on performance or achievement. Capitalism is like a train without brakes. We are exhausted; perhaps we need to embrace a tired society where it is okay to do nothing for a while. The Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard once wrote to his fiancé Regine Olsen that freedom is the element of love. If we follow Han, then today we are not free. Instead of love and compassion, we have stress, burnout, and depression. I guess it is time to take a break. Pause. Close your eyes. Breathe.

Byung-Chul Han’s voice is both original and needed, and not just in Spanish and German. The documentary is a harmonic introduction to some of his thoughts and also provides some biographical information. Though it doesn’t add anything new regarding his ideas, it can serve as a supplement for those who still can’t find the time to sit down and read one of his short but stimulating books.

For more about Buying-Chul Han, please, see here.

Inside

I just released the essay Inside with illustrations by Jeppe Hein.

InsideThe essay is a contribution to Hein’s exhibition, All We Need Is Inside at 303 Gallery, New York, US.

Enjoy.

Vægtning af følelser er en betingelse for fornuft

Det skal handle lidt om etik, regler, værdier og en lille smule om profit. Hvordan hænger disse begreber sammen, hvis de overhovedet gør?

Den amerikanske filosof Robert Brandom skriver i Making it Explicit, at normer – her forstået som eksplicitte regler – forudsætter, at normer er implicit til stede i praksis.

Han mener, at hvis en regel specificerer, hvordan noget gøres korrekt, må den regel kunne anvendes i enhver lignende omstændighed. Hvis ikke, er reglen ikke værdifuld. Det betyder, at værdier er konsekvente og konsistente.

Ligeledes er anvendelsen af en regel i en bestemt omstændighed i sig selv, noget som kan gøres korrekt eller ukorrekt. En eller anden kan misforstå omstændighederne.

I praksis betyder det, at enhver regel kun fungerer under særlige omstændigheder. Hvad der nu er særligt ved de fleste omstændigheder er, at de sjældent er generiske. Det, der er rigtigt og forkert i dag, kan vise sig at være anderledes engang i fremtiden. Enhver værdi udfoldes i kraft af en grundig opmærksomhed på det, som sker.

Lad os afprøve Brandoms påstand. Læs videre i Modkraft.

Forståelse og kærlighed er ikke to ting

”Filosoffens opgave er at analysere udsagn, ikke at graduere dem; han er en lære, ikke en prædikant. Hans mål er at øge forståelse og tolerance, og erkendelsen af at disse to er rejsefæller.” – Ray Billington

Filosofi beskæftiger sig bl.a. med, hvordan vi opfatter verden, det vil sige hvorledes vi undersøger, udforsker og erfarer den. Filosofi kan gøre os opmærksom på andre værdier, såvel som andre måder at tænke og føle på, der kan fremme vores forståelse og tolerance. At forstå er tæt forbundet med medfølelse, idet det kan være svært ikke at føle noget, hvis man rent faktisk forstår. Filosofisk forståelse er beslægtet med den opvågning, som buddhister praktiserer gennem meditation. ”Forståelse og kærlighed er ikke to ting, men bare en,” skriver munken Thich Nhat Hanh.

For at advokere for en reform i et samfund eller en bestemt kultur (fx en businesskultur) er det vigtigt, at appellere til allerede eksisterende normer, som er udbredte. Visse forståelse. Det nytter ikke at referere til universelle etiske normer, fordi ingen normer eksisterer uden praksis. Alle samfund og kulturer ændrer sig, bl.a. fordi normerne for hvad der er rigtigt og forkert, ændrer sig. Vi tager løbende ved at lære af vores erfaringer, idet forståelse netop bringer indsigt, hvorved der åbnes for nye relationer. Eller: de fleste tager ved lære. Har beslutningstagere eksempelvis indblik og forståelse for, hvorfor en bestemt praksis anvendes, er det muligt at appellere til andre normer (eller opfinde nogle), som tjener samme værdifulde formål, men uden at krænke, hvad de pågældende finder acceptabelt eller ej.

Moral repræsenterer det sæt af fundamentale basisværdier, der dikterer ordentlig opførsel inden for et bestemt samfund eller kultur. En stor del af de moralske værdier deles på tværs af tider, kultur og samfund. Eksempelvis har de fleste samfund altid forholdt sig negativt til overlagt mord, eller utroskab med venners koner (selv moraliserende rockere deler denne fundamentale værdi). Andre handlinger kan det være lidt sværere at vurdere. Kan nogle former for drab retfærdiggøres? Hvornår er en gave udtryk for taknemmelighed og ikke bestikkelse? Er det ok, at pace og straffe sine børn, som led i deres opdragelse?

Det afhænger af konteksten. Af vores viden og erfaringer. Vores evne til at forstå. Personligt vil jeg svare nej til det første spørgsmål.

Etik er et spørgsmål om frihed. Forskellige moralske værdier kan til tider fremme vores frihed, mens de til tider kan hæmme denne. Grundideen er, at vi ikke fødes fri, men gradvist bliver det. (Det ved enhver, der har holdt et hjælpeløst barn i sine arme). Ønsker man at yde modstand mod en kulturs fundamentale værdier, kræver det udover en respekt, tolerance og forståelse for disse værdier, også en accept af at normer begrundes ved hjælp af fornuften (ikke geværet). Dette er ikke kun en klassisk filosofisk pointe som Sokrates eksempelvis praktiserede, da han drak den gift, samfundet – ganske uretfærdigt – havde dømt ham til at drikke. Han accepterede samfundets normer; sandsynligvis, fordi han vidste at blandt hans studerende var en ekstrem vis mand, Platon, som ville være i stand til nuancere vores forståelse af begrebet retfærdighed. Ja, måske vidste han, at Platon ville udødeligøre Sokrates (drømmen om udødelighed er velkendt i filosofien). Noget lignende skete, da Nelson Mandela – inden han blev præsident – trådte frem på offentligt fjernsyn og talte direkte til sine landsmænd. Han fortalte dem, at vejen mod frihed ikke går gennem vold, men gennem demokratiske tiltag. På den måde refererede Mandela ikke kun til nogle idealer, som han delte med den Sydafrikanske befolkning (fx behovet for retfærdighed og lighed), han fortalte også noget om, hvad der var korrekt og ukorrekt praksis i den givende situation.

Etik er svært, ikke kun fordi vores fornuft kommer i klemme. Det samme gør vores følelser. Etik er aldrig uden passion. Udfordringen er ikke desto mindre, at vurdere alle de valgmuligheder som man både kan argumentere sagligt og føle lidenskabeligt for. Den bedst mulige beslutning er den, som er frigørende, idet noget mindre relevant holdes tilbage. Der er tale om en afklaret beslutning, hvor man ikke lader sig forføre af tanker og ideer som reelt trækker en ned i impotensen. En sådan beslutning medfører til tider, at nye stier skal trædes til. etik kræver mod. Modet viser sig som en skabende praksis i nuet.

Et eksempel er det forsonings- og sandhedsprojekt som Sydafrika gennemgik i årene efter Apartheids ophør, hvor grusomme historier blev fortalt og delt. Her kunne alle mærke smerten, her og nu, mens et andet menneske fortalte om sine rædsler. For at forstå det uforståelige, må man nødvendigvis vågne op. For at kunne tilgive og komme videre i livet sammen, må man acceptere, det som sker (og skete).

Etik er et livslangt eksperiment. Forståelse og kærlighed. At elske uden forståelse, er ikke kærlighed, men ideologisk naivitet som sjældent er særligt bæredygtigt. Det er bl.a. derfor filosoffen ikke missionerer.

Icebreaker

På engelsk eksisterer udtrykket: Icebreaker. Det refererer til den bemærkning, der kan bryde isen, når fremmede mennesker mødes. Det kræver normalt lidt mere end snik-snakkende smalltalk, da en sådan form for samtale mest af alt bekræfter isen. Af samme grund tillægges personer med denne isbrydende egenskab ofte noget positiv. De får tingene til at glide lidt nemmere.

Termen fortæller os følgende. For det første, at der tilsyneladende er koldt mellem fremmede mennesker. En kulde, som det kan være befriende at bryde. For det andet, at isen kan brydes. Sagt anderledes, der bør ikke være kulde mellem mennesker, når der kunne være varme. På denne måde fortæller termen os noget alment etisk: Når vi anvender ordene bør, skal og må, formoder vi at det kan lade sig gøre. Tag for eksempel de normative påbud: ”Du bør ikke køre bil, hvis du har drukket” – ”Du skal melde det til Skat, hvis du har anden indkomst” – ”Du må ikke betræde græsset.” Sådanne sætninger giver kun mening, såfremt vi antager, at den enkelte vitterligt kan alt det, som han eller hun bør, skal eller må. Heri ligger der både noget motiverede og kontrollerende.

Det samme gør sig gældende, når den tyske filosof Peter Slotjerdijk siger, at vi må ændre vores liv, fordi vi kan. For ham drejer det sig om at lade sig inspirere af de mange forskellige øvelser og praksisser, som kan fremme et menneskes handlekraft. Forøge dets evne til at skabe givende relationer. Desværre er der også noget hæmmende i normer. Ikke fordi vi ikke må spille fodbold på den fine grønne græsplæne. Snarere fordi vi måske kan mere end hvad normerne foreskriver. Normer er jo ikke statiske. Heldigvis. Af og til er der mennesker, der viser, hvad mennesker også kan; de tydeliggør, hvorfor en norm ikke længere er tilstrækkelig. Et eksempel kan være samfundets behandling at narkomaner som kriminelle, selvom studier viser at omsorg og pleje kan hjælpe flere narkomaner ud af deres misbrug end denne negative stigmatisering. Her bør mange samfund handle anderledes.

Den franske filosof Gilles Deleuze skriver: ”Det, som modstanden udvinder fra det gamle menneske, er kræfter, som Nietzsche siger, til et større, et mere aktivt, mere affirmativt liv, der er rigere på muligheder … det er i selve mennesket, at livet må sættes frit, eftersom mennesket selv er en måde at holde det indespærret … Livet er det ikke denne evne til at yde kraftfuld modstand?”

Modstanden mod eventuelle normer skal ikke forstås, som en kamp mellem normer. En position erstattes ikke med en opposition. Intet er fjernere fra Deleuze. Han er ikke dialektiker. Etik er derimod en præ-position. Pointen er, at forholde sig aktivt. Hele tiden spørge: ”Hvad er også muligt?” – ”Hvordan kunne man også leve?” Modstanden er skabende.

Tilgangen eller indstillingen til det, som sker, er vigtig. En tilgang, som både er empatisk, medfølende og nysgerrig.

Termen ”icebreaker” viser, at de fleste praksisser er moralske, idet fundamentale værdier er på spil. På et simpelt metaforisk niveau formår isbryderen at forvandle is til sjap, måske endda at få den anden eller de andre til at tø op. Fra kulde til varme. Til sidst, kan en dygtig isbryder få folk til at tage gas på hinanden. Der er sket en forvandling. Stoffet har skiftet form. Etik handler om at få noget til at flyde, fx få en samtale mellem to fremmede til at glide, selvom disse to måske besidder store forskelle i temperament eller politiske holdninger. Hele kan den andens andethed rummes, som noget andet.

Etik handler mere om formdannelse end et bestemt indhold. Det vil sige, den form for formdannelse, der sker uden én fast og endegyldig form. Isen kan ikke brydes på samme måde hver gang. Du kan ikke score alle med den samme pick up line.

Fra Platon og Aristoteles henover Adam Smith og frem til de amerikanske pragmatikere og Deleuze, har der været en erkendelse af at mennesket ikke er selvforsynende eller selvtilstrækkeligt. Arbejdsdeling kan være nyttigt. Et samfund opstår af hensyn til de levende, men forbliver et samfund af hensyn til forbedret livskvalitet. Dette kræver en elementær indsigt i, hvordan alt er gensidigt forbundet. De store træer kan skygge for de mindre, men de mindre kan måske sikre, at jorden ikke bliver alt for hårdt, hvorved vandet ikke kan trænge ned til det store træs dybere rodnet.

Interesse for de andre er altafgørende. Hos Deleuze er den ikke betinget af selvinteresse eller egoisme, som hos Adam Smith. Der er intet strategisk i denne interesse, hvilket sikkert kan være svært for mange at forstå, idet alt for mange tænker: What’s in it for me? Mange er blevet forført af kapitalens rigide idealer. Deleuze skriver ellers et sted: ”mennesker er væsentligt mindre egoistisk end de er partielle.” Mennesket tager parti for nogle eller noget, fordi dets følelser og passioner er partielle; de vækkes af og i mødet med verden. En af mine venner rejser jorden rundt i en sen alder, men mødet med verden åbner ham. Gør ham endnu mere kærlig.

Jeg er enig med Deleuze, når han siger at mennesket ikke er egoistisk af natur, men sympatisk. Mennesket er interesseret i det, der sker rundt omkring det. Af samme grund forlænger Deleuze Humes kritik af sociale kontrakter, fordi de sociale kontrakter præsenterer mennesket for et falsk eller abstrakt billede af samfundet. De sociale kontraktteorier definerer et samfund negativt, når de forsøger at minimere egoisme (i.e. de ser mennesket som udelukkende egoistisk) i stedet for at se, at mennesket nærer en naturlig interesse for sine medmennesker.

Udfordringen bliver at udvide den partielle menneskelige sympati mod en udvidet generøsitet. En bevægelse fra kontraktuelle begrænsninger mod en mere kreativ eller opfindsom organisering af forskellige menneskers tanker, følelser og ideer. Etikken bliver generøs eller gavmild, idet der skabes plads til det, som er i færd med at blive. Alt det, der kan blive.

En måde at bryde isen på kunne være at møde den anden med venlighed. De bedste isbrydere er venlige.

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