Tag: Nietzsche

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.

Rethinking Ethics in Psychology

Ethics is always about values. In psychology, as in most professions, students are often taught to approach ethics through three frameworks: 

  1. Virtue ethics (What kind of person should I be?)
  2. Deontology (What duties must I follow?)
  3. Utilitarianism (What outcome will maximize the good?)

Each offers a way of defining “the good.” These approaches remain useful, helping psychologists clarify responsibilities, make difficult decisions, and justify their reasoning. Yet each framework risks being used as a strategic, rhetorical tool to back a predetermined position. The same action can be rationalized as duty, optimal outcome, or virtue, shifting the focus from genuine ethics to self-justification. 

What if we made attention—the genuine act of perceiving and staying present in situations—the starting point of ethics, rather than rules or outcomes?

Ethics as Attention

The philosopher Simone Weil wrote, “Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.” For Weil, paying attention is already an ethical act. It means suspending assumptions long enough to notice what is truly happening. This matters as much in the consulting room as in the classroom. 

A psychologist who pays close attention can tell when silence means something, when irritation masks fear, or when something important goes unsaid. No code of ethics tells you how to respond in these moments. Paying attention is the ethical act. In contrast, when we rely too heavily on abstract frameworks, we risk skipping over this important stage of perception. We rush to categorize, justify, or resolve. Ethics then becomes about defending an action rather than sensing what a situation is calling for. 

To clarify the distinction: morality is about judgment—applying universal principles consistently. Ethics, as I am proposing, focuses on responsiveness—actively perceiving a specific situation and considering how best to respond. Morality asks, “What should I do in general?” Ethics asks, “What is happening here, and how can I respond now?” This shift seems small, but it is significant. Morality gives answers and often shuts down possibilities. Ethics, as attention, keeps things open and starts with not knowing. Psychologists need this, because much of their work happens in situations without easy answers.

The Problem of Comparison

Professional psychology education often focuses on outcomes and comparisons: Who has the most clients? Whose intervention is “evidence-based”? Who secures the most funding? Accountability matters, but this culture of comparison can narrow our focus. We start to value what is visible, measurable, and ranked. This comes at the expense of the subtler textures of human life. In therapy, this pressure can lead clinicians to measure “progress” only by symptom checklists. They may miss the more fragile forms of growth—such as trust, presence, and shared silence—that defy easy measurement. When ethics becomes only compliance or output, it grows too thin. It cannot handle the complexity of real psychological life.

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Small Practices of Ethical Attention

What might it look like to cultivate ethics as attention in psychology? Here are some simple practices:

  • Reflective journaling: After sessions, clinicians can note what was said, what they felt, what they avoided, or what unsettled them. Attention grows by noticing what escapes immediate explanation.
  • Naming subtle ruptures: Instead of ignoring the slight withdrawal of a client or the tension in a supervision meeting, name it gently: “I noticed some silence after I said that—what was it like for you?”
  • Suspending judgment: Rather than deciding too quickly what a behavior “means,” stay with the ambiguity: “Something feels important here, but I’m not sure yet what it is.”

These are not alternatives to ethical codes. They are complements. Codes set the minimum. Attention sustains the depth.

Becoming Present

For psychologists, ethics means more than preventing harm or avoiding misconduct. It means being present with the people and situations you face. It means noticing when something matters, even if no rule was broken. 

Ethics is about more than compliance; it is about who we are becoming. It challenges us to ask not just “What should I do?” but “Who am I becoming through my actions?”

Nietzsche og filosofien

Filosofien foregriber fremtidens tanker og måder at eksistere på. Uden foregribelsen ville filosofien være reduceret til en refleksion, en kommentar simpelthen.

Den franske filosof Gilles Deleuze (1925–1995) sagde, at filosofi er lig med kunsten at fremstille begreber, der overkommer det problem, som begrebet viser tilbage til. 

I bogen Nietzsche og filosofien fra 1962 viser Deleuze, hvordan filosofien er problematiserende og skabende, tolkende og vurderende. Han gør det ved at tænke med eller i forlængelse af den tyske filosof Friedrich Nietzsches begreber. 

Nietzsche og filosofien er netop udkommet på dansk, oversat af Robert Morsing Thyssen og udgivet af Multivers. 

Værdier og vurderinger

”Nietzsches overordnede projekt er at indføre begreberne mening og værdi i filosofien,” skriver Deleuze på første side.

Værdibegrebet indebærer en kritik. Det er nemlig uklart, hvorvidt en vurdering forudsætter værdier eller, omvendt, om værdier forudsætter en vurdering. Problemet er selve vurderingen. Den er ikke knyttet til værdier, men eksistensformer eller væremåder for dem, der dømmer og vurderer. Det betyder, at vi altid har ”de overbevisninger, følelser, tanker som vi fortjener i henhold til vores måde at være på.” 

Hvilke overbevisninger, følelser og tanker har mennesket? 

Ifølge Nietzsche er svaret, at ressentiment (et hadefuldt begær efter hævn), dårlig samvittighed og nihilisme udgør princippet for det menneskelige væsen. Det lyder hverken sundt eller glædeligt. 

Problemet, som Nietzsche adresserer, er, at visse tankesystemer og ideologier har gjort mennesket reaktivt og sygt. Filosofien har forsømt det levende, livet, kroppene, følelserne. 

Som modspil tilbyder Nietzsche en anden sensibilitet, der formår at begribe livet på dets egne tilblivelsesprincipper, hvorved livets kompleksitet og pluralisme ikke reduceres. I stedet for en reaktiv attitude, der siger nej til livet, plæderer Nietzsche for en aktiv ja-sigen til livet.

At sige ja til livet er at vurdere det ud fra sin egen forskel i livet – på livets præmisser. ”At sige ja er ikke at bebyrde sig, at påtage sig det værende, men at befri, at sætte det levende fri (…) ikke at belaste livet med vægten af højere værdier, men at skabe nye værdier som er livets værdier, som gør livet let og aktivt (…) opfinde nye former for liv,” skriver Deleuze. 

Der er tale om en tænkning, der vil gå til det yderste af det, som livet kan. 

Livet hæmmes på grund af dårlig tænkning, der kommer til udtryk i tre fejlagtige teser: 

  1. Tænkeren som en der vil og elsker det sande, 
  2. at kroppen, følelserne og det sanselige, leder tanken væk fra sandheden, endelig 
  3. ideen om en metode til at tænke. 

Nietzsche om vilje til magt

Den tænkning, som Nietzsche skaber, handler om at opdage og opfinde nye muligheder for livet. ”Livet gør tænkningen til noget aktivt, tænkningen gør livet til noget affirmativt.” Han vil tænke med livets kræfter, bringe livets kræfter på begreb. Og det er her, at han skaber begreber såsom ”Vilje til magt”, ”den evige gentagelse” og ”Overmennesket” m.fl. 

Jeg vil her kun beskæftige mig med viljen til magt, der ikke betyder, at viljen vil have magt. ”Magt er det, der vil i viljen (…) Viljen er gennem magten selv en menings- og værdiskabende kraft.” 

Viljen til magt bekæmper den ”middelmådighed” i tænkning, der tolker og vurderer fænomener ud fra reaktive kræfter, f.eks. hvor hver nation, køn, hudfarve og seksualitet kun formår at bekræfte sig selv gennem negationen af den anden.

Nietzsche og Deleuze er affirmative tænkere, der overleverer betingelserne for liv. De gør filosofien til en kunst. Kunsten at fortolke og vurdere

Dette er dialektismens problem. Den formår ikke at tænke livets forskelligheder, tilblivelser og kræfter, men reducerer tanken til en værens form, der er ren og tom. Dialektikeren ”siger ja til sig selv ved at slå over i sin egen modsætning.” 

Dens ja-sigen udspringer af konsekvensen af en negativ præmis: Jeg er god, hvorfor de andre må være onde. Eller omvendt. 

”Dumhed,” skriver Deleuze, ”er en struktur i tænkningen som sådan (…) en lav måde at tænke på.” Der er ingen livskraft til stede, når livet belastes ”med de tungeste byrder”: væren, sandhed og virkeligheden, der holder livet fanget. Det kunne være et menneske, der forsegler sin egen identitet til en bestemt væren, sandhed og virkelighed. Nietzsches filosofi bryder med sådanne eksistentielle fængsler. Her inviteres mennesket til at finde sin egen vej.

Den lave måde at tænke på strider mod viljen til magt. Viljen til magt er bundet til evnen til at lade sig påvirke, en forstærket sensibilitet. Nietzsche taler om en følelse af magt, som forudsætter, at den anden, det anderledes og forskellige, ikke negeres. Tværtimod, så indoptages forskellige kræfter som en undersøgelse af, hvad der også er muligt, hvad livet også kan blive.

Det handler ikke om sandhed

Nye læsere af Nietzsche vil hurtigt se, hvor relevant han er i dag. Det er ikke et ukendt fænomen, at flere dømmer andre i forhold til belejlige identitetskasser, hvorfra livet kan anklages, fordi det ikke passer ind i ens egen meningsfigur. 

Nietzsches kritik er hård, men også opløftende. Han nærer en tiltro til menneskets skaberkraft. Han siger, at det er vigtigt at have en forståelse for, at mange reaktive tiltag kommer til udtryk gennem vedtægter og love, der begrænser en masse menneskers frihed og vilje til skabelse. Ofte sker disse tiltag som en slags kompensation for historiske uligheder, hvorved nye uligheder skabes. 

Nietzsche opfinder en genealogi, der både betyder oprindelsens værdi og værdiernes oprindelse. Meningen er aldrig givet på forhånd, den afhænger af de kræfter, der overtager den. Meningsbegrebet er komplekst og pluralistisk. 

At fortolke og vurdere er et spørgsmål om afvejning, hvorfor filosofiens ”fintfølende men strenge kunst” er den ”pluralistiske fortolkning.” Det handler ikke om sandhed, men vurderingen af det, som sker for derigennem at skabe nye former for liv.

Nietzsche og Deleuze er affirmative tænkere, der overleverer betingelserne for liv. De gør filosofien til en kunst. Kunsten at fortolke og vurdere. 

Jeg har læst Nietzsche og filosofien, som gik jeg med Nietzsche i den ene hånd og Deleuze i den anden. De har, som var jeg et barn, løftet mig op undervejs, mens jeg har skreget af glæde. For det er en glæde, at flere nu kan genvinde en tro på verden og livet, mens de finder modet til at skabe nye former for liv. 

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Hverken ofre eller bødler

De fleste har sikkert deres egne strategier, de griber til, når verden bliver alt for meningsløs og absurd. Selv søger gerne jeg hjælp hos mænd og kvinder, der er klogere end jeg selv. Således også nu, mens krigen mellem Israel og Hamas udfolder sig i Gaza på sit mest sindsoprivende. Som så ofte før, er det den franske forfatter og filosof Albert Camus, jeg søger hjælp hos.

Albert Camus (1913 – 1960) blev født og opvoksede i Algeriet, indtil han i 1938 flyttede til Frankrig, hvor han snart markerede sig som toneangivende intellektuel. Ganske som sin ‘eksistentialistiske’ kollega, filosoffen Jean-Paul Sartre, sluttede Camus sig efter krigen til den modstandsbevægelse, der kæmpede imod Frankrigs koloniherredømme i Algeriet.

Men – og dette er et vigtigt men: Modsat Sartre var Camus imod enhver form for vold.

I forbindelse med udgivelsen af den revolutionære forfatter Frantz Fanons bog Fordømte her på jorden – i hvilken Fanon retfærdiggør anvendelsen af vold med den begrundelse, at kolonisatorerne jo også selv anvender vold – skrev Sartre et berømt (eller berygtet) forord. En ofte citeret sætning herfra lyder: ”at dræbe en europæer er at slå to fluer med et smæk og på samme tid eliminere en undertrykker og en undertrykt, så det, der bliver tilbage, er en død mand og en fri mand”.

Vold kan ikke befri

Camus afviste den vold, Sartre ophøjede. For Camus var der intet befriende i volden. Aldrig. Snarere så Camus det som sin moralske pligt, at fordømme enhver form for vold – uanset om den blev udøvet af en algerisk partisain eller af en fransk soldat.

Camus kan i den forstand minde lidt om den Israelske intellektuelle Yuval Noah Harari, der har skrevet flere begavede indlæg efter Hamas’ terrorangreb i Israel. Udover at kritisere en facilt moraliserende venstrefløj for at undlade at fordømme Hamas’ angreb i sin travlhed med at fordømme Israels brutale modsvar, taler Harari om behovet for at tænke i muligheder for fredelig sameksistens mellem israelere og palæstinenser. Han nævner specifikt behovet for at få bistand fra neutrale intellektuelle, der ikke vælger side efter instinkt, men som mere fintfølende og pluralistisk undersøger mulige veje til at bilægge konflikten og forsone parterne.

Samme håb nærede Camus, men hensyn til algeriere og de franske ‘bosættere’ i Algeriet. Camus vidste udmærket, at den franske tilstedeværelse for de fleste blev betragtet som illegitim kolonisering. Alligevel talte han om en forståelse for, at både algeriere og franskmænd burde kunne ‘føle sig hjemme’ på det samme sted. Det afgørende var at vælge side mellem dem, ”som i nødsfald accepterer at være mordere, og dem, som af alle kræfter vægrer sig herimod,” som Camus skriver i artikelsamlingen Hverken ofre eller bødler.

Frankrig vanærer sig selv

Betød det så, at Camus ikke var kritisk over for Frankrig? Slet ikke. I flere artikler skriver han, hvordan Frankrig har bragt sig selv vanære gennem dets brug af vold og tortur. Han skriver: ”Man ønsker, at vi skal elske eller afsky det og det land eller det og det folk. Men vi er nogle stykker, som føler, at vi ligner alle andre mennesker og derfor ikke kan acceptere et sådant valg.”

Ulykkeligvis er kærligheden og hadet for mange forbeholdt et land, et folk, en kultur. Men denne udskilning underminerer det faktum, at alle mennesker ligner hinanden.

I stedet for mord, vold, tortur og had, forsøger Camus at fremme en realitetssans. Han beskriver, som ”den kunst at tage hensyn til nutid og fremtid på én og samme tid, og at opnå så meget som muligt, mens man ofrer så lidt som muligt.”

Camus taler om en dialog, der foregår på tværs af grænser – lande, nationer, ideologier og religioner – hvor det ikke handler om at opbygge en ny ideologi, men om at skabe en ny livsholdning, der værner om livet ved slet ikke at acceptere mord, vold og terror.

Morderisk messianisme

Det der hindrer en ikkevoldelige dialog, er flere ting. Den ene er, at dialoger skal befries fra politiske ideologier og fra, hvad Camus kalder ”enhver messiaslære.” Dialogen forudsætter, at ingen deltager ønsker at se sig selv, som ofre eller bøddel. Ingen skal altså lukrere på medlidenhed eller på dårlig samvittighed. Dialogen kræver, at alle deltagende stopper med at leve i en verden, ”hvor mord er legitimeret”. Dialogen må tage afstand fra det princip, som anvendes af både israelere og palæstinensere, nemlig at ”målet helliger midlerne.” Uanset mål, så må alle deltagere i meningsfuld dialog tage afstand fra visse midler, nemlig mord og vold.

Camus nævner, at vi i dag må stille os to spørgsmål: ”Ja eller nej, ønsker De, direkte eller indirekte, at blive dræbt eller voldtaget? Ja eller nej, ønsker De, direkte eller indirekte, at dræbe eller voldtage?” Alle de, som vil svare nej til disse to spørgsmål, må uvægerligt forandre deres måde at tænke politik og forandringer på, fordi forandringer ikke længere kan tvinges igennem ved hjælp af fysisk styrke, men ene og alene på baggrund af den menneskelige fornuft.

Det betyder, skal vi følge Camus, så ikke, at en kamp for palæstinensisk selvstændighed er illegitim. Men kampen kan og må foregå værdigt og menneskeligt. ”Gandhi viste, at du kunne kæmpe for dit folk og vinde uden at holde op med at være en anstændig person. Uanset hvilken sag der forsvares, vil den altid blive vanæret af det vilkårlige drab på en uskyldig skare, hvor morderen på forhånd ved, at han vil ramme kvinden og barnet.”

I forordet til en artikel citerer Camus filosoffen Friedrich Nietzsche: ”Det er bedre at dø end at hade og frygte; det er bedre at dø to gange, end at gøre sig hadet og frygtet; det må en dag blive den vigtigste grundsætning i ethvert politisk samfund.”

Det er bedre at lide uretfærdigheder end at begå dem. Det er dog væsentlig svære, end det lyder. De fleste kan sagtens forstå palæstinenserne og israelernes vrede, hvorfor neutrale intellektuelle også er nødvendige for at fremme en fredsskabende dialog.

Desværre synes hver enkelt nation og gruppe af individer opsatte på at retfærdiggøre egne forfærdeligheder ved at fortælle om den andens forbrydelser. Offeret bliver til bøddel og omvendt. Alt for mange bruger deres intellektuelle ressourcer på at legitimere egen anvendelse af mord og vold. Lyt blot til Hamas og Israel – og deres respektive heppekor.

Ensidig fordømmelse er modproduktiv

Det værste der kan ske er, at én slags vold retfærdiggøres eller undskyldes, mens en anden fordømmes. En sådan tilgang kan aldrig fremme andet end mere vold. Desuden underminerer den erfaringen af, at alle mennesker er lige og forbundne.

Ifølge Camus var det den intellektuelles rolle, ”udelukkende at arbejde for pacificering, hvorved fornuften igen kan finde vej.”

Krigen mellem Algeriet og Frankrig kostede en million menneskeliv, før Algeriet fik selvstændighed i 1962. Det oplevede Camus aldrig, da han døde i 1960.

Enkelte ville måske sige, at målet helligede midlerne, men ikke Camus. Fremtidig fred og sameksistens skabes nu og her, men aldrig gennem mord og vold, kun gennem dialog, hvor ens modstander ikke nedgøres og umenneskeliggøres, men det stik modsatte:

Humanisér din modstander, se ham eller hende, som et menneske med følelser, drømme og håb.

Det formår de færreste israelere og palæstinensere uden tvivl i den aktuelle blodrus, og derfor er det så meget desto mere magtpåliggende ikke at forfalde til intellektuel dovenskab, reducere konfliktens kompleksistet og tage entydigt parti.

Alles liv har værdi, jøders, israeleres, araberes, palæstinenseres.

Krøniken blev bragt i Information den 3. november.

Life is not personal

What if life is impersonal?

In the book The Identity Trap, political scientist Yascha Mounk argues how some ideas (or his interpretations hereof) are causing new forms of polarization, separatism, control, and even repression.

The identity trap, according to Mounk, refers to those people and institutions that prioritize identity over universalism–especially when specific identity categories like race, gender, and sexual orientation are favored. 

The book is filled with illustrative examples from the US of “progressive separatism” and “strategic essentials”, claiming to be for equality while not treating all people as equals.

Yet, some of Mounk’s claims regarding the cause of the emergence of identity politics require a comment.

Foucault & Deleuze

For example, Mounk writes: “Many postcolonial scholars were especially aghast when Foucault, in his exchange with Deleuze, argued that the oppressed do not need intellectuals to speak on their behalf.”

Mounk refers to the French philosophers Michel Foucault and Gilles Deleuze, who in 1972 discussed the struggles of women, homosexuals, and prisoners, as well as the relationship between theory, practice, and power.

In their conversation, they try to break away from the idea that the intellectual “spoke the truth to those who had yet to see it, in the name of those who were forbidden to speak the truth,” as Foucault says. Instead of claiming to speak the truth or have privileged access to it as intellectuals, Foucault and Deleuze discuss “the necessity” for individuals “to speak for themselves.” In continuation, Deleuze stresses: “Who speaks and acts? It is always a multiplicity, even within the person who speaks and acts… Representation no longer exists.”

Representation no longer exists, how should this postulate be understood?

First, each human being is never one fixed being or belongs to one identity group but is a multiplicity. Therefore, a focus on identity that is too rigid is a trap because it imprisons thought. In continuation, no one can speak on behalf of a person or a group because each person or group already is a multiplicity; or, if you should speak on behalf, you speak in several voices, precisely what identity-based politics rarely master, for example, due to strategic essentialism.

In his philosophy, Deleuze operates with an ontology of difference and repetition, where identity manifests after encounters. Deleuze would find it imprisoning to want a particular identity–that is, to restrict thinking to essential forms of being, whether referring to races, ethnicities, sexualities, etc. Thus, he, too, would be against the identity trap, although with different arguments.

To become with life

For example, part of the current focus on identity is trying to undermine the old dominant social order, or what Deleuze and Guattari would call the majority of being “white, male, adult, ‘rational,’ etc.; in short, the average European, the subject of enunciation.” Still, Deleuze and Guattari don’t tear down a dominant system by changing one ideal or one dominating identity with another. The problem is not that it is a man who is white, etc., but that a specific identity is favored over another, that some forms of life are worth more than others. Mounk addresses this problem and shows how the US, in several contexts, favors non-whites, i.e., discriminates. (He gives examples of the distribution of COVID-19 medicine, access to some schools, and certain groups having access to startup help). 

The problem, however, is not male versus female or black versus white, according to Deleuze and Guitar, because everyone should be equally treated, just as there ought to be room for all life forms. The problem is that we think and add authority to specific identities. Add authority to particular identities. Therefore, they suggest becoming imperceptible and impersonal–or simply forgetting about all these identity markers that become a prison. The current urge to seek an identity hinders people’s capacity to think for themselves. Hindering people to become with life.

For Deleuze, what is strange and unfamiliar makes a person think. For example, in the 1970s, Deleuze was active in the early French gay rights movement. He was a member of the group FHAR (Front Homosexuel d’action Révolutionnaire). For some, it might appear strange that a husband and father of two would care for other people’s rights, but why? Due to empathy, imagination, and selflessness, connecting with people different from yourself is possible. For example, you can fight for education even if you have no children or health care, even if you are not sick. This is trivial, yet for some, unfortunately, it is not due to selfishness or progressive separatism (nationalism is an example).

Another argument in favor of Deleuze is that his philosophy moves away from a philosophy of being towards one of becoming. Yet, becoming is not about the point from which something originates or the point at which it arrives. With this, Deleuze would agree with Mounk’s critique against “strategic essentialism” and “progressive separatism.”

Identities are fiction

In A Thousand Plateaus, Deleuze and the psychoanalyst Félix Guattari write: “A becoming is always in the middle; one can only get it by the middle.” Becoming, therefore, does not represent an ideal, a norm, or a reference point. On the contrary, becoming produces new ways of living, sensibilities, and relating to things such as race, gender, or sexuality where everything intersects. No race or sexuality is prioritized for another.

To emphasize the strength of the concept of becoming, they write “becoming-imperceptible.”

The writer Chris Kraus quotes Deleuze for the sentence: “Life is not personal,” in her book, I Love Dick. That idea is incredibly liberating, which Kraus’ work illustrates because the individual life isn’t just about itself; there is always room for becoming someone else.

To put it more simply, identities are fiction.

Using Iris Murdoch’s concept, contemporary society needs a little dose of “unselfing” to improve the world. “Unselfing” means I turn my attention outward, away from myself and onto the world. As a result, I will see things as they really are and not through the lens of my selfish concerns. Unfortunately, this is difficult because many people’s vision is colored by their concern and interest, Murdoch calls it the “fat relentless ego” in The Sovereignty of Good.

The best way to avoid the identity traps is to prevent craving for one.

Kunsten at bokse med hjertet

Samme uge som min far døde, meldte jeg mig ind i et af dens slags centre, hvor du lærer at slå andre folk til tælling. Der er mange måde at bearbejde sorgen på. Jeg kunne vælge mellem følgende metoder: boksning, Kick Boxing, MMA, Muay Thai, Krav Maga. Min plan var at begynde med MMA, men da jeg dukkede op for at melde mig ind, havde de kun boksning på programmet. Så jeg ændrede min plan.

Det vidste sig at være heldigt. Jeg genfandt min livsrytme gennem boksningen.

Min far havde problemer med hjertet. I samme uge, som jeg meldte mig ind i boksecentret, havde jeg erfaret, at jeg skulle have en hjerteoperation på grund af samme defekt: Mitralklapsutæthed.

Læse resten af kronikken her eller i Politiken her

Ja, vi bør glemme …

Det er på tide, at det enkelte menneske glemmer alle guruerne for derved at se sin egen virkelighed, se sit eget liv, skabe sin egen historie.

Sådan åbner jeg en kronik, der bl.a. handler om psykologen Svend Brinkmann, lidt om Freud, en anelse mere om Deleuze og om at handle således, at du kan gentage dine handlinger.

Læs kronikken her.

Længe leve lederen!

Forleden fortalte en ledelseskonsulent mig, at jo mere erfaren en leder er, desto mere efterspørger han eller hun filosofi. Det kunne være fristende at sige, at lederne ønsker at tænke, men enhver ved, at ikke kun filosoffer tænker. 

Det, der derimod kendetegner filosoffen er, hans eller hendes danseegenskaber, idet at tænke er at træde til siden, vige pladsen for noget, som er større end en selv. 

Det, som lederen efterlyser, er ikke blot refleksion – det håber jeg i hvert fald ikke – men evnen til at give plads til erkendelsens – til tider – smertefulde tilblivelse. Det kunne være erkendelsen af, at den gren, som vi alle sammen så mageligt sidder på, har vi snart savet over. 

Grenen kunne vi for nemheds skyld kalde planeten. 

Status og greenwashing

Lige nu værner meget få mennesker om livet – inklusive ledere. De værner om deres ego, deres karriere, deres status – en status, som endda kan vokse, hvis du lader som om, at du bekymre dig om planeten. 

Denne bekymrende velvilje er desværre mere knyttet til lederens identitet, end vedkommendes reelle handlinger.

Lederen – som alle andre levende væsener – bevæger sig mellem væren og intet. Et mellemrum fuld af angst, idet lederen ikke kun kan risikere at miste sin prestige og magt, men tabe livet. 

Skal en leders filosofiske erkendelse udvikle sig til andet end en pirrende eftermiddag på et kursus, kræver det en accept af tabet: at noget er uerstatteligt. 

Enhver form for erkendelse – inklusive selverkendelsen – kan være grusom. Den blotter vores individuelle og kollektive begrænsninger og konfronterer os med vores egen hang til selvbedrag. 

Et sådan selvbedrag kunne lyde: tingene ordner sig nok. 

Troen på videnskaben

En anden form for selvbedrag kunne være, at videnskaben nok skal redde os. 

Videnskaben er nyttig, men den er ude af stand til at identificere meningen med livet. Erfare tabet. Filosofi er ikke noget ubrugeligt, men lige præcis det, der frigør mennesket fra frygt, usikkerhed og hjælpeløshed. Giver det kraft til at handle. 

At dagens erfarne ledere efterspørger filosofi, hænger sammen med, at filosofien alt for længe har været marginaliseret. Men denne marginalisering har ikke just gjort verden bedre. Tværtimod. Når filosofien er fraværende, trives dumheden. 

Meningen er i filosofien ikke noget givet, men noget som gradvist skabes, idet det enkelte menneske alene – og sammen med andre – kritisk undersøger og udforsker livets uanede muligheder, hvorved vedkommende løbende finder ud af, hvad der er vigtigt, og hvorfor det er det. 

Det kaldes visdom. 

En mere praktisk visdom er at værne om ens eget hjem: planeten. Ikke fordi vi skal, men ene og alene fordi vi elsker den, uden den vil ingen vide, hvad det vil sige at være levende, uden den ville ingen kunne tale om frihed, erfaret kærligheden eller spillet fodbold. 

Nietzsche, sagde engang, at »den, der ved, hvorfor han lever, kan tåle et hvilket som helst hvordan«.

Det er dette ’hvorfor’, som gør, at mange ledere efterspørger filosofi. De har glemt, hvorfor de gør, som de gør. Den dybere mening. Den såkaldte mening med livet. 

Ifølge den franske filosof Michel Serres, består det at erkende i »at antage en form, der er analog med den, vi erkender«. Det vil sige, at for at erkende livets mangfoldighed, må jeg blive et med livet. Jeg må smide alle mine ideer, normer og forventninger i skraldespanden og bogstaveligt talt blotte mig over for livets kræfter. Jeg må ofre min status og prestige, idet jeg viger pladsen for de livskræfter, der presser sig på – give dem plads. 

Jeg må erkende, at livet kun er til låns. Og, at alt levende er forbundet, hvorved mit velbefindende er forbundet med dit, og omvendt. 

I dag taler mange konstant om, hvad vi kunne gøre, og hvordan vi kunne gøre det, som om vi endnu ikke havde et klart ’hvorfor’ at leve for. 

Ingen udsættelse

Tabet af livet – af planeten – kan ikke udsættes med ord og strategiske planlægninger. Livets overlevelse kræver, at vi sætter livet før vores eget ego. 

Hvis vi lever for livets skyld. Ikke magt, penge, sex eller en lind strøm af likes, ved vi så ikke, hvad vi skal gøre, og hvordan vi skal gøre det? 

Filosofi er altså yderst nyttig. Den kan hjælpe dig og mig og alle de andre med at leve og endda overleve. Det er ikke en disciplin, hvor den enkelte skal tilegne sig en masse informationer og begreber, fordi de sælger på direktionsgangene, men en konkret og brutal modstandsøvelse mod alt, der forsøger at ødelægge friheden, kærligheden og den mellemmenneskelige værdighed. 

Ja, alt det der ødelægger det eneste sted, hvor mennesket nogensinde har følt sig hjemme og derfor lykkelig: Planeten. 

Alt for længe har vi i Vesten, i hvert fald, ignoreret døden, som om det var noget, der ikke vedkom os. 

Spørgsmålet er nu, om den endnu igangværende pandemi har fået os til at indse vores skrøbelighed. Erkende, at vi er endelige. Fortolkningen af døden bestemmer vores holdning til tilværelsen – til livet. 

Dette er en klassisk filosofisk erkendelse. 

Fortabte ledere

Filosoffen Ludwig Wittgenstein sagde, at et filosofisk problem svarer til at føle sig fortabt. Mange ledere efterspørger filosofien, fordi de er fortabte. De har tabt kampen om planeten, de kan mærke, at de i fremtiden bliver hjemløse. 

Selv om de nok mere frygter, at blive arbejdsløse og miste status! 

Febrilsk prøver de at opruste sig moralsk, selv om det de reelt burde er, at nedruste kapitalen. 

Grådighed, opportunisme, egoisme, narcisisme, stress og depressioner er i dag ikke individuelle diagnoser, men sociale patologier. Vi mennesker – alle sammen og ikke kun lederne, selv om de selvfølgelig er mere ansvarlige qua ledere – har fejlet. 

Moralen er nemlig denne: Hvis resultatet af vores handlinger er, at planeten snart dør, hvad fortæller det så om de valg og beslutninger, der ligger til grund for vores handlinger? Hvad fortæller det om de vaner, overbevisninger, værdier og antagelser, som har formet vores beslutninger? 

Det fortæller, at livet aldrig har været første prioritet. 

Vi har ledt os selv i fordærv. Lederen er død, længe leve lederen.

Artiklen blev først gang bragt i Klimamonitor

Against revenge

“The world needs bad men. We keep the other bad men from the door,” says the character Rust Cohle in the American crime-series, True Detectives. I thought of this sentence when I read Agnes Callard’s opening essay in the book On Anger (Boston Review Forum, 2020), which ends with the words: “We can’t be good in a bad world.” 

The underlying premise of her argument is that the world is bad. And it’s because the world is bad—tattered, for example, by inequality, racism, sexism, greedy capitalism, abuse of power, hunger, fatigue, etc.—that there is moral value in anger. Social movements such as #Metoo and Black Lives Matter emphasize this point. 

Perhaps more controversially, Callard claims that “once you have reason to be angry, you have reason to be angry forever. This is the Argument for Grudges.” Resentment of this type is often seen as being impotent, as Nietzsche claimed, and yet Callard present us with “the Argument for Revenge” where she tries to make a person’s desire for revenge something rational: she says, “revenge is how we hold one another morally responsible.” 

But before I go any further, let me pause to present the writer: Callard is an Associate Professor of Philosophy at the University of Chicago; she is also a columnist for The Point Magazine and The New York Times. 

Returning to her essay On Anger: Callard develops her postulation further when she writes that doing wrong—through revenge—doesn’t make you a worse person than when you were being wronged. In other words: “the victims of injustice are not as innocent as we would like to believe.” 

Thus, if I am wronged and I get angry, it is my moral responsibility to act on that anger and to seek revenge. Callard doesn’t present us with what would be an appropriate form of revenge. One reason for this is that she doesn’t operate with a clear moral guideline as to what is right and wrong. Instead, she seems to base such normative judgments on the individual’s feelings. “Anger,” she writes, “feels exactly as you would expect, if it were true that my moral accountability was a matter of you seeing what’s good for you in terms of what’s bad for me.”

Unlike a moral philosopher such as Iris Murdoch, Callard doesn’t aim to overcome “the big fat ego” that Murdoch believed to be the problem in moral improvement. In contrast, Callard centers on the person’s feelings, despite the fact that most people have been seduced or manipulated to “feel” inappropriate things. It is quite possible that a person will become angry due to a mistake, a misunderstanding, or even due to pure ignorance. 

Callard’s essay is followed by nine responses. Some of these merely repeat her argument, although others demonstrate the extent to which a true philosophical discussion is a mixture of humility and courage: while I acknowledge that I may be wrong, I nevertheless have the courage to present my ideas despite the risk of being wrong and having to think it all through again. 

Among the more significant responses is that of Elizabeth Bruenig, who argues in favor of forgiveness, saying that “it may be a necessary ingredient for peace as we know it.” Bruenig goes on to stress that forgiveness is not “something one does for oneself, as pop psychologists and wellness coaches often [would have it].” Although it may bring healing, forgiving is also painful because you’re “being asked to sacrifice for some higher good: peace or egalitarian order.” This approach tries to overcome Callard’s more individual moral evaluation from a transcendent perspective. 

Continuing with this theme, Misha Cherry argues, with the support of James Baldwin, about the need “to examine the context that gave birth to them [the crimes].” Here, Cherry is redirecting our attention away from a focus on the person, the egocentric individual, which is so typical in US political debate. One only has to think how convenient it was to be angry at Donald Trump and to ignore the culture or context that brought a person with such ideas and values to power. It is because we tend to focus on egos that we often ignore the context. 

Rachel Achs challenges Callard’s argument that “anyone who is wronged does have some reason to retaliate.” On reading this, I found myself thinking about the mafia and drug cartels who have their own reasons for being angry—which problematizes the claim that all anger is morally reasonable. While paying tax might make some people in Denmark angry, taking revenge by not paying tax while still benefiting from the welfare system, would not only be an example of unreasonable anger but also of plain stupidity. 

Oded Naáman asks whether revenge is the best option for moral improvement. Instead of revenge, an angry person or society might strive to change people’s mindsets and practical norms through new laws (e.g. to secure consent before sexual interaction), or through a better educational system that brings equality, justice and freedom to all—regardless of gender (including nonbinary persons and trans-persons), race, ethnicity, or sexual preference. 

The small book ends with a comment to the responses from Callard where she writes: “we need help to become the people we want to be—we are not already, ‘best’.” While it’s obvious that we need others because they can help us understand who we are and who we might become, it’s less obvious whether revenge is helpful. For example, does the other help due to his or her altruistic interest or just well-camouflaged selfishness? Also, I am skeptical about whether all people really know whom they want to be, that is, if what they want is truly their own desire, or whether they are being subtly seduced by political narratives or social media. 

After reading Callard’s essay and the responses, I am still left with the question: Why the need for revenge? I can easily understand and sympathize with the anger, but not with the need for revenge. I think one possible answer is that revenge is fueled by our own anger towards something we can’t let go of. It’s easy to get stuck in the past instead of “just” learning from it and then trying to overcome it. There is a need to make sure that it will not repeat itself, and this may be achieved through social experiments, education, new norms and values, etc.  

Thus, while anger can be productive and morally beneficial, it is only so, I believe, when it doesn’t lead to never-ending bitterness, self-righteousness and revenge. For example, Callard claims that once you have reason to be angry, you have reason to be angry forever, but I do not find her argument and examples convincing, and I also believe she is wrong.

Overcoming problems doesn’t necessarily require revenge; it calls rather, for a more creative approach that starts to build foundations for a future where people can experience equality, justice, and peace, while freely experimenting with different ways of living. 

With Nietzsche, I see revenge as resignation or resentment, which contrasts with trying to create new values, for example, through critical and innovative thinking. Critical thinking is a constructive example of the value of anger: a critique is actually something joyous because it has the potential to make us a little bit wiser, provided it is based on facts and convincing argument rather than on feelings and opinions. 

In her final reply to all the responses, Callard writes that anger is not only in one’s own self-interest. For example, I can be angry when other people suffer. And yet, despite this claim, it appears to me that the revenge she speaks of is always personal. Even when she proposes that “Love is a kind of attachment,” as in loving people who embody justice or equality, I fear that this too can easily lead to an attachment to one’s personal feelings about what constitutes equality and justice. Vanity, egoism, and narcissism are close by. 

Another way to define love could be by relating it to freedom—that is by being unattached and open to the continual process of becoming someone else. Søren Kierkegaard once wrote in a letter that “freedom is the element of love.” A simplistic interpretation of this could be that it is only unfree people who seek revenge. This is because it is only free people who are ready to set their egos aside and go where the truth takes them. 

I have dealt mostly with Callard’s essay, but the real strength of this book comes not only from her essay but also from all the responses. On Anger is an example of how rich and beneficial it can be to participate in a philosophical discussion—even if you, like me, are sitting on a bench in a park. 

Finn Janning, PhD, a writer and a philosopher. 

First published in Metapsychology, Vol. 25, No. 32

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