icarus fallen

28 I 2008

I have brought up something rather silly to make my mundane e-mail correspondences slightly less than boring:

“Thanks for your reply. I’m just rather bored by the people I deal with too-often recently. You know, to host a party for many and to find yourself to be the only one definitely not-belonging there is rather a bad exercise. Taken as a collective, they need neither philosophy nor, for all intents and purposes, reason in making choices. (exceptions exist and do not require mention here to demonstrate their significance). Hence, for both their peace and mine, I should eschew frequent interaction with people–at least when I see them I will not be bored from both their character and nuances of seeing them everyday. Predictability is boring; just as foreseeing other people breaking up is boring (hence you bet on it to make it worse, but slightly more interesting), foreseeing people making choices for their future in accordance and against their nature but nonetheless following predictable path, too, is boring. Therefore, by staying away from people, most of the time, i will at least be exempted from passing judgments on people too often–which I will as soon as I interact with people. No, these statements aren’t emotional; nor are they completely rational–but I think they reflect something intrinsic of a superfluous man. As for your points–they are good, and I shall comment on them to the best of my ability.

1. well, sure–but that’s rather difficult. by having others to “share my happiness and sorrow”, am I to be equal with them? No, the subject is always judging, and therefore, cannot really take others as equals. Or else I won’t be able to legitimately laugh at others’ follies, and my own, to lose my subjective monopoly on judgment.

2. the idea of the philosopher king, just like Aristotle’s notion of contemplative life, is quite absurd; it just gives a place for philosophers, most of whom are completely superfluous to the function of a society. I mean, people who philosophize (too much) might as well see themselves as superfluous; that way at least they don’t have to pretend to be boring old people.

3. well, when I make people embarrassed or feel bad, I intend to do so out of pure spitefulness. I’m not acting for their good; but merely making them feel bad and realize their insufficiencies. Seeing people embarrassed or whatnot will at least make me feel slightly less-than-bored.

Well; enough to be said by a bored individual. At least reading your letter and replying it with this solipsist response is anything but boring. Take them seriously–or not. Regardless I’m already amused–probably to your annoyance, too. Now for the adventure:

‘What is Man that Thou art mindful of?’”

Enough said; for our current condition I have nothing more to offer than a simple reversion of Marx:
“Marx said something along the line to instruct the proletariats that they have nothing to lose but their chains, and a world to gain. And what about us? we have everything to lose, except for our chains, and no world to gain. “

I think I will remain bored for quite sometime; meanwhile, I might as well write something to your amusement, whoever you are.

24 I 2008

While staying home in Christmas a month ago, I was left with some time of leisure and decided to take a look at Hegel’s Philosophy of History. Even though the text seems very insightful concerning the general notion, or rather, the spirit of history, few problems are evident: his facts are rather dated, his understanding of foreign cultures seem to grasp their appearance rather than essence, and, perhaps more importantly, the term “spirit” could easily be replaced by “god”. The linear passage of spirit from one civilization to th next and the ultimate praise of the Germanic culture bring further doubt onto the validity of its claims. If history truly were an idealist determinist subject, why does it end in two self-destructive wars in the beginning of last century? Should these apparent decadence of “spirit” be deemed historical accidents or ahistorical, independent events? Hegel, who lived a century earlier and belonged to the particularity of his historical context, cannot adequately answer this question.

In comparison, the philosophy of history of Raymond Aron a century later seemed to be a much more rational version of understanding that better captures reality. The very notion of his philosophy of history itself is but an attempt to understand the limit of historical objectivity rather than an all-fitting system of explanation that aims at the basis of historical knowledge. The foundation of his thought, then, is based on intellectual skepticism, whose doubts leads to a notion of probabilistic determinism guided by reason in plurality of interpretations:

The intelligibility of probabilistic determinism characterizes the world in which the life of the man of action unfolds; the intelligibility of psycho-existential comprehension is born of a meeting with others, a discovery and an enrichment of oneself. The intelligibility of works reveals both the meaning immanent in each of them and the law according to which they follow one from the other; meaning that express one aspect of man and his creative capacity, a law that reveals the essence of the search and its progress. Historical totality preserves this plurality, of which the philosopher takes note, an awareness to which is added, with the always provisional discovery of the unique and essential problem, the effort to make sense of a diversity of periods within human society in a drive toward a goal vaguely outlined by reason.[1]

11 I 2008

Leo Strauss, in presenting the conflict between natural right and history, seems to have based his judgment too much on the conflict between the former idea with a particular school, viz. historicism. According to Strauss, natural right stands for consistency that stands regardless of time, while historicism is a school of extreme relativism, in which no objective knowledge can be assumed without paying attention to historical particularities. Both cases, however, seem to be rather extremist: although natural right stands for that which is natural, or that which is observable universally and objectively, it does not have to be hostile to notions of historical consciousness. Notions of the natural itself, as Strauss demonstrates, changes over time; and it would be prejudice to assume that only the more aged one has claim of validity. Even if the notion itself contains possibility of objectivity, history brings development of its understanding and should not be rejected for objectivity. On the other hand, historical consciousness does not necessarily yield complete subjectivist understandings. Sure enough–each idea only takes shape in its particular historical framework; but this notion does not eliminate possibility of continuation and elements of objectivity in the course of history. To subscribe to this extreme form of relativism contains no fewer error than to follow historical determinism; specific facts particular to a setting and general trends both should be noted in our historical consciousness. The best we can do, in most cases, are but to use our reason to a certain extent to approximate the likelihood of things–any claim of Truth in completion should probably be rejected after skeptical scrutiny.
Regardless, Strauss’ analysis of the development from ancient natural right to modern natural law is very detailed and insightful. If things permit, I shall examine the rest of this book in detail.

8 I 2008

Simone Weil, in her Need for Roots, demonstrates the errors and severity of the problem of uprootedness. To Weil, the tradition of liberalism that started the French revolution and continued to her days has omitted the concept of roots, and hence, neglects the wellbeing of human souls. The liberal spirit of 1789, a product of the enlightenment, is based on the notion of rights; that is, belief on man’s potential to achieve things and to reserve realms of freedom for himself based on his shared identity with others, based on conditions of equality of being—regardless of whether it is universal manhood, common citizenship, or god that grants such equality. However, the notion of obligation is forgotten; rights, in the sense that Weil perceives, is an antithesis of obligation. While rights attempts to reduce boundaries for common grounds, to free oneself from burdens of birth and imposed requirements, obligation reminds oneself of the very fact that he is ultimately limited and has duties to fulfill. Otherwise rights become a fantasy without roots in human reality. Obligation serves as the moral guidance for rights; through its universal ability of limiting and directing man’s action, it is in itself transcendent and crucial to human reality:

The notion of rights, being of an objective order, is inseparable from the notions of existence and reality. This becomes apparent when the obligation descends to the realm of fact; consequently, it always involves to certain conditions. Obligations alone remain independent of conditions. They belong to a realm situated above all conditions, because it is situated above this world (4).

The concept of obligation, too, is universal, as “all human beings are bound by identical obligations, although these are performed in different ways according to particular circumstances” (4). It is one “not based upon any de facto situation… not based upon any convention… [but] an eternal one” (5). Hence, a question arises: since both rights and obligations inevitably draw upon a notion of universality; why is the seemingly more restrictive notion transcendent and the more liberal notion not? Weil attributes the error of the spirit of 1789 to its anthropocentric arrogance and concurrent desire for universality:

All [the men of 1789] recognized was the [realm] on the human plane. That is why they started off with the idea of rights. But at the same time they wanted to postulate absolute principles. This contradiction caused them to tumble into a confusion of language and ideas which is largely responsible for the present political and social confusion (4).

The enlightenment philosophés and their subsequent revolutionary protégés, by contemplating solely upon that which is human, while still upholding an obsession with the notion of progress, by upholding rights without an understanding of obligation, have created a gap between reality and idea, divine inspiration and human achievement. Hence, as Weil sees, “the liberating current of the eighteenth century found itself without historical roots: 1789 really was an open break” (110). Those who subscribe to the roots, patriots of the tradition and country of France, were executed as traitors, while those who prevailed believed in an illusion of national sovereignty, to revolution, to the belief in change. But these illusions are short lived: with the roots severed, those who want to remain patriots have to cling to the state, an unpopular notion. Hence the patriotic switched from the Left to the Right, from the populist to the aristocratic (111). The changing policy of the patriotic spirit demonstrates the contradiction within the fundamental notions of rights behind the French polity. Without a sense of obligation, the French revolutionary and liberal tradition, then, is an example of historical uprootedness.

4 I 2008

Rather than the product of a single visit, these thoughts reflect the collective impression on this particular city from both my current trip and the previous one from last August.

the Airport
This is where languages, partings, and first impressions intercept in its usual busy operations. Mechanical waiting lines is inundated by the vibrant shops and shoppers nearby. Movement natural or artificial contradicts the color of florescent light everywhere. Regardless of their nationalities, visitors become close to equals before immigration, knowing that their stay in this international hub is but temporary, and that travelers and exiles alike must make their way home, or elsewhere. Every twelve minutes one of those trains exchange one group of visitors for another for a mere hundred; the visit to this museum of walkers, however, will always be one way, unless you are one of those unfortunate souls trapped in time.

Wan Chai
A happy combination of small shops, meeting places, and luxurious hotels. Compared to its counterpart in Peking, the Grand Hyatt here has a darker, but perhaps more grandiose undertone imbued in its halls. Strangely, noodle shops, laundry shops, and the Joint Press shape my memory much more than the turtle like exhibition and convention center.

Causeway Bay
Layers and layers of shops and malls open until midnight. Neon lights illuminate the busy streets in the evenings, while pedestrians dressed in fashion linger on them, as if the night were more desirable than the day. Ten in the morning, I traversed in this once busy area to find few people around and few shops open. Caucasian faces and Latin alphabets on signs and shop windows make one forget that this place was, and perhaps will be, a part of a distant Oriental culture. Hidden behind the main street I saw signs of small bookshops, forced to retire to second and third floors. From the aged doorways and dirty stairs I climbed to another world that doesn’t seem to belong here. My world.

Central
Bank buildings, IFC, and professionally dressed men and women on the street without much expression reminds one that after all, this city is established and known for the dismal science. Sophisticated false consciousness is forgotten by the ephemeral glory; for now we, too, must crunch our numbers.

University
A city upon the hill noted for excellence and English education. This is a vertical place. In clotted space dorms, classrooms, auditoriums, and cafes paint together a completely different picture.

Mong Kok
Compared to Causeway Bay, this place belongs to a different class–infinitely more indigenous. At night, electronic and clothing shops attract much attention from street-goers, while long line waits for the movie theater. Independent sellers and their carts of goods form a street on their own, while booksellers pile themselves on top of one another in two apartment buildings. On one of them, after climbing up six or seven floors, one finds a second hand dealer of classics, and the one on top, a seller of treasure: books in both English and Chinese cover much of contemporary humanistic and social studies, from deconstruction to critical theory. Even the newest books–for instance, Peter Gay’s Modernism–are on display here. Its collection of vast interest form a great contrast to its tiny size. Nearby a rather sketchy cybercafe situates, and thus I, sitting here, find my morning full of color.

Lo Wu
As the train approaches China proper, scenes outside reminds one that despite all illusions, the concept of that particular nation long has penetrated the heart of this harbour. No, one needs not look outside to the China Petroleum station to remember that Chinese banks and businesses are everywhere on the streets of Hong Kong, and that the PLA, shaped in a strange rectangular building, occupies a key position in Central. The gate has long been opened. But outside of it, will one find those contemptible shops of fake goods, or a brave new world? Despite this ambiguity, I must leave, to return to homeland of my fear and love.