Tag: Kierkegaard

Byung-Chul Han

The French philosopher Gilles Deleuze once said: “There is no need to fear or hope, but only to look for new weapons.”

‘Weapons’ may give us the wrong associations, but what he refers to are concepts that, like a brick, can be used to destroy what is hindering the growth of our lives, and at the same time, help us build or create something sustainable.

The Burnout Society

The Korean philosopher Byung-Chul Han’s work can be seen a toolbox aimed at helping us understand our contemporary society, while also presenting us with concrete ideas, thoughts or ‘weapons’ that might help us overcome or resist our own weak desires and vanities.

Han was born in Seoul, South Korea in 1959. He studied metallurgy in Korea before moving to Germany in his early twenties to study philosophy, German and theology. Today, Han is a professor at the University der Künste in Berlin. His initial fame sprang up with the publication of his book Müdigkeitsgesellschaft (2010), which, directly translated, means ‘the fatigue society.’ In English, this was cleverly translated to The Burnout Society (2015).

Han’s thesis is that today’s neoliberalism has made politics psychological or mental. The logic of neoliberalism has invaded our minds. It’s our ability to be present in our lives, to think and to love that is threatened by this invasion. Neoliberalism—for many, at least—has become an uninvited guest that refuses to leave our minds.

Han declares, in all of his work, that we have become narcissistic. For this reason, it’s time for citizens to care more about society’s welfare than their own egos. “Responsibility for the community defines citizens. Consumers lack responsibility, above all,” Han writes in his 2018 book, In the Swarm: Digital Prospects. The result of this narcissistic development is well-known: stress, burnout and depression. “Depression is a narcissistic malady,” Han states in The Agony of Eros (2017).

Eros or love is the only thing that may conquer our contemporary depression. As Han writes, “Depression represents the impossibility of love.”

Experiencing sublime beauty hurts

Still, it’s difficult to love, because we are not really free. It’s not just that society pressures us to fit in, perform faster and achieve more, but rather that we ourselves want this. We try to appear as positive, smooth and shiny in public as possible, as if our lives are all made up of ‘good vibes.’

In 2017’s Saving beauty, Han writes: “The smooth is the signature of the present time.” This kind of smoothness, he continues, “connects the sculptures of Jeff Koons, iPhones and Brazilian waxing.”

Today, smoothness and waxed bodies, quite sadly, are seen as the same thing as beauty. The morale behind this is clear: Smooth, smoother, smoothest = good, better, best. All that is strange, secret, or negative—in other words, all that passes through our thoughts—disappears, due to the ongoing repetition of sameness.

We lack a critical yet creative and life-affirming approach to overcoming this confinement. When we avoid the negative, the difficult and the painful, we amputate life. Our lives tend to circle around ourselves, making the circle smaller and smaller as we Google ourselves into unconsciousness.

To contrast this shallow development, Han turns to the writings of Plato, Kant, Hegel and Heidegger, in which there is no distinction between beauty and the sublime. Experiencing sublime beauty is not supposed to be pleasurable; rather, it hurts. It makes you fall and stumble. It is similar to falling in love, because you can lose yourself and act rather stupid.

“The sight of beauty does not cause pleasure, but shocks,” Han stresses in Saving beauty. It’s the matter of experiencing our own fragility that contemporary society minimizes. Art can shake us, make us see the world differently and help us perceive our own limitedness and flaws. “The longing for beauty,” Han says, “is ultimately the longing for a different mode of being, for another, altogether non-violent form of life.”

The strength of Han’s analysis lies in how he uses two guiding concepts in all his books: freedom and power. They both encapsulate the problem with contemporary society and can also open us up to alternative ways of living our lives.

Truth is freedom

Freedom is both a problem and a possibility. It is becoming, emphasizing that we become by combining courage to stand up against dominating ideals and norms with the belief that things could be different. Freedom is found in becoming whatever disobeying those ideals enables us to become. Real freedom is socially anchored, and as Han says in Psychopolitics: Neoliberalism and New Technologies of Power (2017): “Freedom is a synonym for the community that succeeds.”

By making freedom social, he tries to relate it with truth. Perhaps this is where Han shows how courageous he is, by reintroducing the problematic concept of truth in philosophy. In Saving beauty, he speaks about the need to save beauty. Why? Because, as he writes: “Beauty promises freedom and reconciliation,” and “truth is freedom.”

In other words, a world of smoothness is false. It’s a world of ‘post-truth.’ For Han, the beautiful is both true and good; it’s almost as though the Korean philosopher is turning Platonic. And he is—at least in the way that the French philosopher Alain Badiou is Platonic.

In both Saving beauty and The Agony of Eros, Han ends up advocating for Badiou’s idea that the task of philosophy is to be loyal or faithful towards whatever binds us together (what is true, in other words). Han distinguishes himself from Badiou when he more practically shows why or how we can show fidelity to what really takes place in our lives.

Fidelity is unconditional in that it presupposes commitment and awareness. That means we should try to become capable of matching all parts of life, instead of just doing so when life is pleasurable and smooth.

“The saving of beauty is the saving of that which commits us.” This loyal commitment or involvement is related to the kind of awareness that mindfulness cultivates, as a non-judgmental and kind approach to what is happening now and here.

Without humour, no freedom. Without freedom, no love.

Han also uses his Eastern roots in his philosophical thinking. Back in 2002, when he was still an unknown, he published a book called The Philosophy of Zen-Buddhism.

In this book, he illustrates that the Buddhist concept of ‘nothingness’—as the absence of an exclusive subjectivity—is what makes Buddhism pacifistic and non-violent, because there is no essence where power can be concentrated. Also, the concept of ‘emptiness’ is the reason why narcissism is something very un-Buddhist. There is no unchangeable ‘me’ in the mirror; rather, I am being formed by life.

The Korean thinker also illustrates that humour is something that links Western and Eastern philosophy. Nietzsche, for example, claimed that laughing was an expression of freedom. The Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard once said that “freedom is the element of love,” so it follows that without humour, there’s no freedom, and without freedom, there’s no love. Or to put it differently, it’s difficult to love people who never laugh, or take themselves too seriously.

In Buddhism, Han writes, there is no miracle, only hard daily work: Letting go of the past and not transcending or dreaming of a world beyond this one. He compares Buddhism with walking. Walking has no future, as you’re always in the midst of walking. To die means to walk, he says, emphasizing that we are always dying. Similarly, Michel de Montaigne said that to philosophize is to die.

‘Dying’ means always walking, philosophizing, exploring and experimenting with life, not as a way of meeting a specific objective, but as a way of being grounded in the here and now. Western and Eastern philosophy, I believe, share this humble approach to life. We never philosophize or meditate to conquer the world, but to praise its beauty.

Listening as an art of breathing

Many Eastern ideas are reflected in Han’s suggestions for how to overcome today’s stress, burnout, exhaustion and ever-growing narcissism. For instance, in The Burnout Society, he encourages us to stop, sit down and take a break. Philosophy is here defined as ‘an intervening time,’ ‘a time of ‘non-doing,’ ‘a peace time,’ as he calls it.

The concept of ‘non-doing’ resembles elements of Buddhism and mindfulness in that it stresses that we don’t need to be doing things constantly, Rather, non-doing allows things to unfold at their own pace.

Similarly, in The Transparency Society (2015), Han proposes that although we are forced or coerced into participating in an ongoing style of positive communication—declaring, “I like,” over and over, again and again—we don’t have to like everything. It’s not more communication that is needed, but creative or alternative approaches to living a richer life. To be creative, a person needs to stop and allow themselves to be formed or touched by what is happening as it happens, in the here and now, without judging it according to some predefined ideal.

A last example is provided in Psychopolitics, in which Han he reawakens the ‘philosophical idiot’ as a way out of today’s malady. The idiot doesn’t belong to a specific network or alliances, so he or she is free to choose. The idiot doesn’t communicate; instead, he or she facilitates a space of silence and loneliness, where they only say what deserves to be said. The idiot listens, as a generous way of stepping aside to give room to the others.

“The art of listening takes place as an art of breathing,” Han writes in The Expulsion of the Other: Society, Perception and Communication Today (2018).

For non-philosophers alike

Han’s work is accessible for non-philosophers, and is a good guide to understanding and navigating oneself through today’s demanding, achievement-based society. He encourages us to Relax. Do nothing. Become no one. See time as something peaceful.

Time passes, whether we want it or not. Then it returns and changes everything. Let go. Listen. Embrace moments of non-communication. And breathe.

Inklusion må ikke betyde kapitulation

Når vi lever mere opmærksomt, opstår en erfaring af, at mennesker – ja, alt levende – hænger sammen. En medfølende samhørighed opstår, hvor andres velbefindende også bliver mit. Søren Kierkegaard kaldte det kærlighed eller næstekærlighed: at elske alle lige – ikke favorisere min race, religion eller seksualitet, skriver Finn Janning.

Jeg har i de seneste år undervist i diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI). Jeg har lært meget med hensyn til samtidens paradokser og blindgyder. Det store spørgsmål er ikke, om vi skal inkludere forskellighed – det skal vi – men hvordan vi gør det uden at miste det, vi forsøger at beskytte: retssikkerhed, seksuel frihed, respekt og lighed.

Læs resten af kronikken i Jyllands-Posten (eller send mig en besked).

En europæisk renæssance

Psykologen Svend Brinkmann sendte for nylig et uventet frisk pust afsted. Det handlede om at gå til kamp mod Donald Trump – men ikke med våben eller politik, men med kultur, historie og idéer. Den handlekraft, som ofte giver amerikanerne deres dynamik, stammer netop fra det faktum, at de ingen historie har.

Hvis skismaet mellem USA og Europa kan reduceres til én grundlæggende forskel, er det denne: Europa har en forestilling om det gode. Gennem historien har vi forstået det gode på forskellig vis – hos Platon eksisterer det i en idéverden, hos Aristoteles udvikles det i menneskelig karakter og praksis, hos Kierkegaard er det kærlighedens mysterium. Men fælles for dem er, at det gode er noget, vi søger, ikke blot noget, vi afgør ved flertal eller debat.

Heroverfor står USA, hvor der ingen tradition findes for det gode – ikke engang som en utopisk forestilling. USA handler ikke om det gode, men om rightness – hvem der har ret. Rigtighed er noget, man kæmper om i den offentlige debat, hvor idéer støder sammen i en battle of opinions. Historisk set har dette været en styrke: en fri markedsplads for idéer, hvor ytringsfriheden har gjort det muligt for mennesker at brydes, udvikle tanker og måske komme tættere på sandheden.

Men hvad sker der, når idéernes markedsplads ikke længere er bundet til en forståelse af det gode? Når debat reduceres til vindere og tabere, og når sandhed gøres til et spørgsmål om loyalitet?

Donald Trump er ikke ophavsmanden til postfaktualitet – men han har drevet den til ekstremer. Postfaktualitet betyder, at fakta ikke længere er et fælles grundlag, men blot endnu en strategi i kampen for magt. Under Trump blev sandhed noget, der blev skabt af dem, der råbte højest eller havde de stærkeste medieplatforme.

Cancelkultur og identitetspolitik fungerer på samme præmis som Trump: det handler ikke om at argumentere bedre, men om at eliminere modstanderen. Hvis sandhed er et spørgsmål om identitet – om hvem du er snarere end hvad du siger – så betyder argumenter ingenting. Det er ikke længere det bedste argument, der vinder – men den mest magtfulde gruppe. Filosoffen Jürgen Habermas har længe advaret om dette: Når sandhed bliver et spørgsmål om magt, bliver offentlig debat meningsløs.

Det, vi risikerer at miste, er det europæiske særkende: en kultur, hvor vi værner om det gode, ikke blot det rigtige.

Men det betyder ikke, at sandheden er en uforanderlig størrelse, som hos Platon. Ligeså vel er det gode ikke nødvendigvis en ultimativ reference – et fast punkt i idéernes eller religioners univers. Pointen er ikke, at det gode og det sande er absolutte, men at disse begreber skærper vores opmærksomhed. De forudsætter en åben, undersøgende og fordomsfri tilgang til virkeligheden, langt mere end den person, der hævder allerede at vide, hvad der er rigtigt og forkert.

Her adskiller Europas idéhistorie sig fra den amerikanske tradition: Vi har været i stand til at blotte os, acceptere vores sårbarhed, vores skrøbelighed og tvivl. Vi har, gennem filosofi og kunst, arbejdet med tvivlen som en styrke frem for en svaghed.

Tvivlen lammer dem, der kun kan navigere inden for dikotomien af rigtigt og forkert. For dem bliver ethvert spørgsmål en kamp om at vinde, at have ret, at positionere sig som den moralsk overlegne. Men dem, der har et blik for det gode, danser med livet. De ved, at verden er i bevægelse, og at sandhed og godhed kræver opmærksomhed, ikke stivnede dogmer. De træder til side, når noget større, bedre eller sandere kan få plads.

Derfor har Brinkmann ret: Europa har brug for en åndelig oprustning. Ikke i form af sentimental nostalgi eller nationalistisk selvtilstrækkelighed, men i form af en genopdagelse af vores egen arv af tænkning, kunst og filosofi. Vi må genlære kunsten at skelne mellem det vigtige og det uvigtige, at erkende kompleksitet uden at falde i relativisme, og at stræbe efter sandhed uden at bruge den som et våben mod andre.

For som Churchill (måske) sagde: Hvad kæmper vi ellers for?

Kommentaren blev bragt i Berlingske Tidende, 22.02.2025

Skærme = tryghed

Flere mener, at vi som samfund udsætter vores børn for et ”digitalt overfald.” Antagelsen er, at skærme ikke blot fylder for meget i folkeskolen, men at de fører til mistrivsel blandt børn og unge. 

Nu er det nok ikke skærmene som sådan, der er roden til mistrivslen, men nok snarere, hvad de hindrer og hvad de skaber, eller endnu mere præcist: Hvad de er et symptom på.

Denne trivielle pointe er vigtig, fordi at fjerne skærme fra unge, gør ikke nødvendigvis deres dagligdag sundere. Mange unge har aldrig lært at være sammen med sig selv eller andre, uden at en skærm medierer relationen. Hvis ”selvet er et forhold, der forholder sig til sig selv, eller er det i forholdet, at forholdet forholder sig til sig selv,” som Søren Kierkegaard skrev i Sygdommen til Døden (1949), så har de unge – og mange andre – mistet dette selvforhold. 

I dag forholder mennesket sig ikke til sig selv, men forholder sig til andre – og dernæst sig selv. De fleste måler og vejer deres eksistens i forhold til andre, hvorved deres selvforhold vurderes i lyset af andre og, ofte, deres følgere og likes. Det betyder, at mange har mistet fornemmelse for, hvem de reelt er. 

Hvis der er en eksistentialistisk morale, så lyder den: Du må lære dig selv at kende, for derigennem at blive dig selv, hvorved du kan udtrykke dig selv autentisk og først der, kan du reelt dele dig selv med andre. 

Desværre har samtiden vendt denne morale på hovedet. De fleste unge begynder med at dele sig selv, uden at kunne udtrykke sig autentisk, fordi de sjældent ved nok om sig selv, idet de næsten aldrig får lejlighed til at lære sig selv bedre at kende.  

Hvis skærmene skal fjernes fra skolen, bør denne skærmtid erstattes med en obligatorisk undervisning i filosofi, hvor de studerende gennem spørgsmål, konkrete øvelser, mindre tekster og meditationer lærer at forholde sig til, at de overhovedet er.

Angst, sagde Kierkegaard er forbundet med frihedens svimmelhed. Så de unge, der måske føler sig frie når de kigger på en skærm hele dagen, er selvfølgelig ikke frie, men blot kontrolleret. Frihed er forbundet med svimmelheden, der kan opstå, når den ene shorts ikke automatisk følger den anden; eller, hvor netadgangen forsvinder og du selv må vælge. Vælge hvordan du vil bruge din tid. 

Skolesystemet kunne vælge, hvilket side af mønten, som de vil tilbyde fremtidens borgere: Frihed eller angst.

Kierkegaard talte om at gribe muligheden for at kunne noget – måske blive et andet og bedre uddannelsessystem. Sagt anderledes: De unge – og andre – vi lærer os selv bedre at kende, når vi vokser som mennesker, hvilket sker når vi erfarer noget, som gør, at vi må forholde os til os selv. De sociale medier inviterer kun i mindre omfang til dette selvforhold, fordi erkendelsen kræver lidt afstand eller tid, hvorved jeg lader en erfaring blive til en erkendelse, som jeg enten jeg resonerer med eller ikke. Det betyder, at hvis jeg føler, at jeg handlede uoprigtigt, bør jeg ændre en vane eller en adfærd. Sådan ændring kræver mod, da angsten netop vil opstå i sådanne situationer på grund af usikkerheden, især fordi jeg måske bør afvige fra de sociale mediers snævre konsensus-fællesskab. 

Denne angst sidder i kroppen, men den holdes hen gennem konstant skærmtid.

Skærmen er for mange unge lig med tryghed. Flere unge er vokset op med en skærm, som en form for omsorgsfigur. Skærmene er til stede i omsorg og uddannelsessystem, fordi det har været nemmere, men det nemme bliver på sigt skrøbeligt, fordi lærer et menneske ikke at omfavne svimmelheden, bliver det aldrig frit. Og så længe uddannelsessystemet ikke frisætter de unge, kan de ikke tage vare på sig selv, udtrykke sig selv autentisk, fordi svaret på hvem de er, ikke findes bag skærmen, men inden i dem selv. 

Når skolesystemet er klar til at varetage dette arbejde, så kan de smide skærmene langt væk. Men forbydes skærmene uden et alternativ, svarer det til at smide folk der ikke kan svømme ud på åbent hav. 

Først bragt i Politiken

Love holds the potential for political change

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

I believe that all kinds of discrimination, hate and suffering can only be destroyed by love.

In her book All About Love: New Visions, the philosopher Bell Hooks (or, as she prefers, bell hooks) defines love as the will to extend or expand oneself for the purpose of allowing the spiritual self to flourish—including the selves of others. According to the existential philosopher Søren Kierkegaard, love is edifying. Love is a verb; it does something. But that is not all! In a letter to his then-fiancée Regine Olsen, Kierkegaard wrote, “Freedom is the element of love.”

Love requires freedom. Or only free people can love.

I propose an understanding of freedom as being with friends. Freedom is the manifestation of a complete or meaningful relationship. Every relationship always assumes something that is not oneself. Love cannot therefore be reduced to self—love is, rather, an external force that arouses joy.

Seen in this light, I believe that a will to love—fundamentally—tries to overcome the devastating sadness that comes in the face of exploitation, discrimination, abuse of power, violence and death.

Works of Love, Kierkegaard argues that only love is edifying.Not anger. In connection with the religious injunction to love your neighbour as yourself, he emphasizes that the term neighbour does  not refer to your race, your gender or your nation, but all people. Anyone, he writes. All people should be loved as equals (not necessarily loved equally).

That is, treated equally. Treated with the same respect and rights.

With Kierkegaard’s call to love all human beings as equals, he turns love into a political concept that destroys the damning group identity politics of the time. Love possesses such a liberating potential. It confirms the wisdom of Hannah Arendt, when she said that evil is the result of our thoughtlessness, our reluctance to think well and thoroughly.

Mindlessness is associated with a lack of attention, an inability to love.

Love is the vitality with which all critical thinking begins. It’s like a friendly bond that can make you and me wiser. That which is part of life in all its complexity: everything that breathes, shits and dies.

Love can only flourish when we—all of us—recognize that none of us own life, but rather, that it is on loan. It is the manifold powers of life that we cherish, not our ego, race or territory.

Love holds the potential for political change. It happens when all people are loved, as equals.

The rites of play

“Play, not work, is the end of life. To participate in the rites of play is to dwell in the Kingdom of Ends. To participate in work, career, and the making of history is to labor the Kingdom of Means.” – Michael Novak, The Joy of Sports (1976)

Byung-Chul Han is a Korean-born professor of philosophy and cultural studies at the University of the Arts in Berlin as well as a popular contemporary social analyst. During the last two decades, he has published numerous book-length essays dissecting contemporary society. Han uses several catchy terms to define contemporary society, including  burnout, tired, positive, pornographic, intimate, transparent, control and information society to name a few.

His essays draw a dualistic map, that is good vs. bad, and the distinction can, at times, have an either–or character, for example, seduction versus porn, knowledge versus information, negative versus positive, consumers versus users, etc. In his newest book, titled The Disappearance of Rituals, Han turns to rituals to overcome the erosion of community. As symbolic acts, Han suggests that rituals can bring closure. Han also looks to rituals to “stabilize life” and make “life last.”

According to Han, closure and stability are needed because everything has been “colonized by the economic.” He observes that “in consuming emotions we do not relate to things but to ourselves. What we seek is emotional authenticity. Thus, the consumption of emotions strengthens the narcissistic relationship with ourselves.” Thus, the corrosion of community is related to narcissism. 

Han illustrates the ever-present narcissism that can be found even in so-called positive movements or slogans that focus on change: change yourself by doing this, change the world by buying or consuming this product. The problem is two-sided: to walk around in a vegan t-shirt or shoes requires money, and second, all that matters is the symbolic value. However, having a Buddha statue in your garden does not really bring people together or bring you any closer to having true insight. The problem is that some symbols have become shallow. They don’t “establish relations, only connections.” 

Han doesn’t use the concept of authenticity in an existential way but sees it as a neoliberal concept of production. “You exploit yourself voluntarily in the belief that you are realizing yourself.” Or, when everyone “is producing him- or herself in order to garner more attention … the compulsion of self-production leads to a crisis of community.” The crisis is characterized by “echo chambers,” where people mainly hear the voices of those who share their beliefs and opinions.

Thus, communication without community is compulsive and narcissistic, whereas rituals consist of “narrative processes.” Another way of describing the corrosion of communities is that contemporary rituals have become “as-if-rituals,” in other words, shallow. 

The rituals that Han refers to aim to stabilize identity, to make one “at home in the world.” He refers to the Hungarian writer Péter Nádas who describes a village with an ancient pear tree at the centre, which for Han is an example of “a ritually closed place”. Under the pear tree the villagers gather and contemplate silently. In his work, Nádas unfolds a collective consciousness that “creates a community without communication.”  

Han is aware that his ideas are closely related to modern-day nationalism, but with the help of Hegel, he claims that the “spirit is a closure, an enclosing power which, however, incorporates the other” but without changing the culture that Han sees as something original, fixed and even sacred. For the same reason, he postulates that societies seek closure, or a clear identity, which for him is a “society of rules,” where such “rules rest on agreement.” Yet he doesn’t explore the difficulties in establishing rules in societies inhabited by narcissistic cultural, racial, gender, and other group identities. He paints his critique with broad strokes and, equally vaguely, states: “We must defend an ethics of beautiful forms.” 

The kind of rituals that Han proposes are rituals of closure, for example, religious festivals. For the same reason, he claims that culture unfortunately has been made profane. For Han, “culture is a form of closure, and so founds an identity.” 

I would disagree with him and claim that a closed cultural identity is a fiction. Cultures change, yet Han is persistent, for instance, when he sees danger in Deleuze’s and Guattaris’s concepts of becoming and rhizome. Unlike the two French philosophers, Han operates with a metaphysics of being. Again, I would disagree with Han by suggesting that the problem of today is related to an idealized or normative notion of being, and the result is that most people seek the same thing and do the same thing to gain attention, prestige and status or to gain followers and likes (cf. the echo chambers). There is a lack of critical thinking because people would rather feel protected and at home, that is, identified. Finally, when Deleuze and Guattari speak about becoming, it is never about the point from which something originates (e.g., cultural identity) or the point at which it arrives. Their concept of becoming is closer to “play,” which Han leans toward at the end of his book, perhaps to overcome the risk of appearing too nostalgic in his urge for rituals.

In Homo Ludens (1955), Johan Huizinga summarizes play as “free activity … an activity connected with no material interest … a voluntary activity.” Play is intrinsically valued. Later, with the Enlightenment, play was contrasted with work. Work was serious, play was unserious—a waste of time. Still, some philosophers suggest otherwise—and here Han could have improved his book by consulting more recent literature about sport and philosophy. 

Yet, to gain closure in Han’s argument, readers might be curious about what play can offer. “Thinking has the character of play” because there is no thinking without eros—or joy and freedom, I would add. 

Play is related to seduction, and with this concept, Han succeeds in tying play to rituals as something exterior, something that is repeated as when Kierkegaard’s seducer turns up at the same place every day in Cordelia’s life. Seduction also requires dwelling or time as duration because it requires a secret—a transparent person is never seductive—because all narratives are fed by a secret story. That secret might even be related to why so many people play, or watch other people play which, according to Novak (see epigraph), might have something to do with play being real, honest, and true.

Thus, what is the secret that brings people together? Play, rituals, seduction. 

After reading a few of Han’s books, you know what to expect: more of the same. To his credit, he adds a little extra each time to stimulate new readers. In this book, it is rituals and play, although he could have spent more time exploring these concepts, especially the latter. 

Still, Han’s books can awaken an appetite for a more critical approach to society—for both students and critically orientated citizens. 

Finn Janning, PhD, philosopher and writer – review first published in Metapsychology

Blandt de råbende var mødre!

I gamle dage hed det politisk korrekthed. I dag hedder det wokeism eller cancel culture. Fælles for alle er en ekstrem påstået moralsk korrekthed, der sjældent giver plads til tvivl, usikkerhed eller nuanceringer. 

Senest har Information brugt fodbolden, som en anledning til at plædere for moralske korrektioner. Under overskriften ”Det er tid til at ændre fodboldkulturen”, reducerer lederskribenten fodboldkulturen til én bestemt ting: noget moralsk forkastelig. 

Eksemplet lyder: ”Fisse, kusse, Schmeichel er en mur!” råbte de danske roligans tidligere denne sommer, når landsholdsmålmand Kasper Schmeichel leverede gode redninger i Parken under EM i fodbold. Blandt de råbende tilskuere var børn, unge og helt almindelige familiefædre og -mødre. Det er svært at forestille sig de samme mennesker råbe noget lignende i en hvilken som helst anden sammenhæng, fodbolden.”

Eksemplet er velvalgt, idet de jo ikke giver nogen mening. To – måske stødende – ord for det kvindelig kønsorgan, råbes sammen med efternavnet på en målmand. Jeg kan på ingen måde se sammenhængen eller relevansen – altså sammenhængen mellem en målmands evner og kønsorganer. 

Sangen ville heller ikke blive bedre, hvis navne for det mandlige kønsorgan var anvendt, eller frugter, grøntsager, bildele, etc. Sætningen er meningsløs. Men mere praktisk tydeliggør den muligvis, at det mest af alt handler om at sige noget sammen – i fællesskab.

Forargelsen er dog stor hos Information, der ser ”helt almindelige familiefædre” blandt de syngende – hvordan ser en almindelig familiefar ud? Og sågar mødre, skriver de. Mødre er som bekendt kvinder, og kvinder er som bekendt mere woke, end mænd (i hvert fald i Information). 

Kiggede lederskribenten lidt mere indgående på kulturbegrebet, ville vedkommende bemærke, at kultur er noget foranderligt. Ingen kultur er ukrænkelig og original. Fodboldkulturen udvikles, den ændres. Det sker blandt andet, når fans bliver gjort opmærksom på noget upassende i deres opførsel. Det kunne eksempelvis være, at de bliver bevidste om, hvad de synger. Og at det sårer nogen.

Filosoffen Søren Kierkegaard sagde, at livet leves forlæns, mens forstås baglæns. Ole Fogh Kirkeby sagde, jeg ved først, hvad jeg mener, når jeg har hørt mig selv sige det (eller synge det). Os andre dødelige, ynder at sige, at vi tager ved lære. 

Jeg er sikker på at næste gang en dansk målmand skal motiveres, er kønsorganer ikke en essentiel del af peptalken. Ikke fordi ordet kusse eller fisse per defintion er problematisk – selvom de er det for nogle – men fordi det ikke giver mening. Ordene skærper ikke målmandens opmærksomhed.

Er Informations leder et eksempel på tidens herskende cowboy-moral, hvor mange skyder før de tænker?

Denne tendens peger i retning af manglende kritisk nysgerrighed, empati og forståelse for andre menneskers eksistensvilkår.  

Hvordan kan ”helt almindelige familiefædre og -mødre” have en større lyst til at være sammen om noget, selvom dette noget måske ikke er videre meningsfuldt, sågar formår at krænke enkelte? Skyldes det, at vi lever i et samfund, hvor fællesskabet er blevet en kliche? Skyldes det, at vi lever i et opportunistisk konkurrencesamfund, hvor der er gået sport i hvem, der kan være mest moralsk (læs: hvem kan ophøje sig selv, ved at fordømme de andre mest nederdrægtigt)? Skyldes det, at vi slet ikke er så åbne og tolerante, som vi bilder os ind; skyldes det, at vi ikke bryder os om ”de andre”, især når de ikke lige mener, tænker og føler som os selv. Måske det skyldes, at ingen lytter til hvad de selv (eller andre) siger, som handlede det blot om at sige noget?

Kulturændringer – som reelt hele tiden sker – forudsætter kritiske, ansvarlige og bevidste borgere. Modsat tidens moralske skråsikkerhed, forudsætter læring en kritisk perspektivisme og nysgerrig ydmyghed. Det vil i praksis sige, en løbende nuancering af ens egne antagelser om korrekthed. Det kunne være forestillingen om eksistensen af ”den almindelige familiefar”, eller ”mødrene”. 

Hvad nu, hvis vi i stedet for at observere hinanden med det formål, at dømme og forbyde de andre, observerede hinanden, fordi vi bekymrede os om hinanden, fordi vi gerne vil hjælpe andre mennesker med at blive bedre – ligesom de fleste af os håber, at de andre vil hjælpe os med at blive bedre? 

Filosofi besidder dette aspirerende element. 

Det er i bund og grund det, som er en stor del af fodboldkulturen går ud på: at hjælpe ens hold. Gode intentioner er selvfølgelig aldrig nok, men fodboldkulturen er på mange måder mere kærlig, empatisk og respektfuld, end eksempelvis den aktuelle danske politiske kultur, hvor nogle – helt bogstaveligt – gramser på eller befamler dét, som andre blot synger om. 

Det er altså ikke svært, at forestille sig noget lignende og værre, andre steder end i fodbolden, selvom lederskribenten netop påstår dette. 

I bedste Aristoteles-stil kunne jeg spørge: Hvem ville du helst lade passe din børn: En netop tilbagevendte konservativ politiker, eller en rød og hvidklædt fodboldfan, der engang sang kusse?

To Love Everyone as Equals

Imagine you were Søren Kierkegaard, the Danish existentialist. Then there would be nothing confusing about the remark: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” 

In a letter to his fiancée, Regine Olsen, Kierkegaard wrote, “Freedom is the element of love.”

Love presupposes freedom.

All those who are free can love.

Freedom is liberation from something that is obstructive: hatred or ignorance.

The rest in Sisyphus Magazine

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑