An autobiographical note on my writings

Since building this website I’ve been intending to plot an autobiographical development of my philosophical belief, to form a picture of which thinkers influenced me the most, why and how. I’d put it off due to time constraints and because such a plot would probably be only of interest to me. I also figured that the development is pretty obvious to me, so why bother?

The most influential figures are indeed obvious to me, but what was not obvious to me was how I was groping for the corporeal reality. Though I had rejected the idea of a separate soul or a dualistic mind-body scenario (as a result of Nietzche’s influence), I had not yet fully excepted the body as a philosophical foundation, an essential reality. Yet, since reading through my old writings (some of them, to my surprise, are six years old) I can draw out certain themes, certain thoughts that stayed with me, certain ideas that have not been fully clarified until my recent reading of Maxine Sheets-Johnstone (MSJ).

Already of an atheistic bent before going to university, eager to understand why we humans do and think what we do, and prone to discuss controversial and explosive subjects, I was immediately attracted to Friederich W. Nietzsche. Not only did he write on controversial issues and atheism, but he did so using trickery, insults and beautifully written passages and aphorisms. His writing could be puzzling, prompting hours of musings, or exhilarating, leaving one with a sense of having discovered something fantastic, to be sharing in some profound truth that others hadn’t yet realised. He was also the proponent of a fascinating and dark idea: "nihilism". In some ways I still feel this excitement, and am often drawn back to the dark abysses and careful aphorisms within his pages. Nietzsche’s psychological observations can be amazingly insightful, his analysis of religion profound and his words are certainly elegant. My love affair with Nietzsche was long, and I read most of his work in my 1st and 2nd years, to the determent of lesser philosophers.

Jean-Paul Sartre wasn’t necessarily a natural successor to Nietzsche, though the former owes a philosophical debt to the latter. I’d encountered his name a few times, briefly read some summaries, synopses, found the basic ideas behind existentialism appealing, made a mental note. Then one lecture in my 2nd year (delivered by Chris Long, one of the most engaging philosophy lecturers at the university) left me feeling amazed – it was the only lecture I’ve had that left me astounded. The lecture broadly covered the existentialist philosophies. I was still concerned with questions about God and the implications of His non-existence at that time (as well as the sick follies or organised religion). Though Nietzsche had his own ideas, they were too severe for a mere human like myself to aspire too.

The existentialists, and Sartre in particular (who was the main focus of the lecture) offered a certain view of personal and social existence that drew me. Before university I was aware of the problem of solipsism – the unknowability of other minds and the doubt that ensues from this. Evidence was not enough. At the time I held to an extreme scepticism. Doubt was my regular practice and it was useful. I questioned everything, the most sacred practices, sexual taboos, "common sense" and other obvious things, and this all before I’d even heard of Decartes’ "extreme scepticism". Though I came to realise this position was untenable, even contradictory, it did leave me (as Nietzsche would have wanted) with burnt creeds, smashed moral systems, unanswered questions and the realisation that certain answers were not only wrong, but lies, excuses or the result of laziness, stupidity, weakness, ignorance or willful collaboration with the status quo. Or as Sartre would say "bad faith".

Sartre not only clarified that the world’s moral systems were mainly a matter of bad faith (and that God was assuredly dead), but convinced me that self-responsibility and human freedom had a high value. The many problems of his philosophy aside, Sartre carried Nietzsche’s baton – he gave me the courage to continue. Without some clarity I would live unhappily and I would certainly be a slave and a dupe. Add to this his dark and dramatic literature, his non-monogamous relationship with Simone de Beauvoir and the wider circle of existentialists (and their artistic and phenomenological forebears), Sartre (and other existentialists) became compelling. I could not see where philosophy could go beyond this:

"Existentialism, broadly defined, is a set of philosophical systems concerned with free will, choice, and personal responsibility. Because we make choices based on our experiences, beliefs, and biases, those choices are unique to us -- and made without an objective form of truth. There are no "universal" guidelines for most decisions, existentialists believe. Instead, even trusting science is often a "leap of faith"."

His idea of "The Look" had already tied up my concern with solipsism. His individualistic bent compounded Nietzsche’s influence. Thanks to my unanswered questions, my suspicion that all was not as "they" said, and Nietzsches antisocial vehemence, society - or rather "the masses" - were already an object of scorn. But existentialism gave me the sense that scorn wasn’t enough – I must embrace the alienation I felt. Though this was a misunderstanding of the philosophy, it was clear that the culture at large was to be rejected. Ortega writes why:

"Solidity and security are to be found only in the communal condition, whose existence is anterior to that of any individual: for the latter finds it ready-made for him as soon as he awakes to life. As the old men of the tribe had been equally conscious of it, it is considered to be of immemorial origin. It does each men’s thinking for him by means of its treasure of myth and legend, transmitted by tradition; it creates his legal and social codes, his rites, dances and gestures. (He) believes in the mythological explanation precisely because he has not invented it... for these people thought, desire and feeling connote mere circulation through ready-made psychological channels, repetition of a hackneyed repertory of mental attitudes." (p105)

Solipsism solved, religion and other cultural lies explained or exposed, individualism validated. Psychologically, this may have been what I needed to cultivate a sense of superiority that would keep me comforted during the bewildering separation from the "majority" and how "they" think. I became a self-stylised pariah and sought strange sensations and ideas – what was rejected, repulsive, wrong.

Sex was certainly a primary reason for my alienation. I felt that Nietzsche was right when he wrote that "sexuality reaches to the utmost of a man’s personality" – so sex is an important thing indeed. I felt sympathy with Freud’s notion that sex was fundamental. The distortion of sexuality, the inequalities, the silences and sanctions of this complex issue fascinated me both personally and intellectually. The problem of monogamy, strange girlfriends and sexual encounters, the Marquis de Sade’s writings, extreme pornography, the suffering of others for whom the problems of sex had inflicted pain, the vast psychological and sociological literature of the subject – it became my main intellectual interest.

In my dissertation on Sartre I was to write of his sexual psychoanalytic thus: "In any case, these kinds of account (sic) will be problematic when other sexual practises are taken into consideration and it might be best if a symbolic ontological account of the genitals is replaced with a psycho-physiological evolutionary account of sexual intercourse."

This evolutionary account of human sexuality and behaviour eluded me. Had I jointly studied evolutionary science rather than theology I might have come to better theories more quickly. As it was I was studying creationism rather than Darwin. I’d have preferred to learn from a modern scientist than to scoff at self-abusing monks. I’d ignored one of Nietzsche’s valuable ideas "it is useful to have been a scientific man".

I met Cherub during this time, and she too appreciated Sartre (though as a student of literature) until she began reading his philosophy and sharing feminist critiques of his work with me. She was an undercurrent, guiding me towards feminist theory while I sought out historical and sociological explanations for our sexual state of affairs. The theories of Foucault not only fitted the bill, but they were also the natural inheritors of certain existentialist ideas. Thus began my further studies.

Like Nietzsche, Foucault’s writings were seductive, intriguing and clever. Like Sartre, Foucault owed Nietzsche a great philosophical debt. The problem of freedom arose again – my understanding of Nietzsche was that he was something of a determinist, allowing biology to be a strong force in human behaviour. The Sartre I’d read was for absolute freedom (though he never convinced me on that point as I was already reading popular genetic science and academic sociology). Foucault not only seemed to question human freedom, but human **self**.

Foucault was doing well at explaining why we are the beings that we are, but without realising it, I was moving into a philosophical dead-end. Though Foucault’s work hinted at corporeality, it never truly addresses it. How could I understand sex, human behaviour and everything else without this bodily basis? My other studies were concerned with the "linguistic turn", with language and postmodernist theories. As I result I would defend the notion that there was no self and no moral foundation (I was back to nihilism again) – both ideas being best understood as "cultural relativism".

It was natural, considering my philosophical trajectory, that cultural relativism would make sense to me. Ortega once wrote:

"Two men may look, from different points of view, at the same landscape. Yet they do not see the same thing. Their different situations make the landscape assume two distinct types of organic structure in their eyes. The part which, in the one case, occupies the foreground, and is thrown into high relief in all its details, is, in the other case, the background, and remains obscure and vague in its appearance. Further, inasmuch as things which are put one behind the other are either wholly or partially concealed, each of the two spectators will perceive portions of the landscape which elude the attention of the other. Would there be any sense in either declaring the other’s view of the landscape false? Evidently not; the one is as real as the other… Perspective is one of the component parts of reality." (p89-90)

Ortega was not claiming relativism, but the existentialist idea of perspective leant itself to the postmodern theory, and it seemed a logical development in my mind.

But things fell apart as quickly as they came together. Still stunned that philosophers had more to say after the existentialists, I found postmodernity compelling – it was shocking, strange, artistic and even insightful. Yet cultural relativism couldn’t provide the moral foundation I felt should exist. It should exist because otherwise nihilism, political apathy and bad faith seemed to be all that was left. This was not a matter of getting a good grade, but a matter of my own life and how I was to live it, an ethical and political matter. Furthermore, the many feminists I was reading provided great insights. Their critical tools were aligned against every element of existence. They offered a unique dissonance because their perspective was truly outside, even further than my own sense of alienation. They were outside because so many of the philosophers I’d read had shoved them there. Nietzsche’s analysis of women became intolerable, laughable, repulsive. I could hear the hysteria in his voice and see his blind spots. Sartre’s theories too were also horribly sexist and as a result distorted. Foucault suffered more than the rest, the problems inherent in his work, exposed by the feminists, finally lead to a rejection of the postmodernist atmosphere his ideas moved in. What prejudiced creatures philosophers could be! I had not read Nietzsche close enough, who had warned me of this years ago…

Nietzsche, Sartre, Foucault and the feminists… I was left with pottered Nietzschian profundities, flashes of existential insight, the grasp of Foucauldian power, and a keen awareness of gender issues and their foundational place in understanding any culture, politics or psychology. But I also couldn’t shake the problem of cultural relativism and the sense that we weren’t the disjointed, atomised, ahistorical and amoral creatures the postmodernists would have me believe.

I had almost touched the corporeal solution again when I wrote in my dissertation on Foucault (but in a footnote!):

"Kroker offers a fascinating Freudian/Marcusian essence in which the self is based, though not in a transcendent realm. This essential self is the unsocialised baby, universal and timeless in its similarity to all humans in that stage of life, in which all types of subjectivisation will take place. (See Critical Assesments:2 p109-121)"

The essential self – a heresy in postmodernist thought. But what is essential to the self, to the group and wider culture in which it is just a part, to reality as a whole, was beyond reach. There was only language, symbols or pure subjectivism.

Kroker (a woman incidentally) was almost right: the essential self is the baby, but also the child and the adult and even the corpse. The body (or more accurately, the human bodies of evolutionary history) is the essential reality through which one can understand human action, history, culture, power relations, moral decisions, and political and religious systems. MSJ provided these insights in two inter-disciplinary studies, which summed up the problems and profoundities of Sartre and Foucault, which dispelled the constant specter of the Cartesian mind-body dualism, which exposed the fraudulent theories of biological determinism, cultural relativism and the excesses of the linguistic turn. MSJ carries the insights of the existentialists and critical tools of feminists into the picture of evolutionary science, using the evidence of anthropological and archaeological findings and how these answer questions about what it is to be a human being today.

I am living at the edge of our evolutionary development as a species, not yet dead, still moving on. With MSJ I also feel like I am exploring on the edges of philosophical clarification and discovery, still growing. Sometimes I look over my writings and their grasping at answers and see the mistakes inherent in them. At times this annoys, embarrasses, amuses or pleases me. I consider the vast wealth of other influences on my thinking, be these academic writers, artists or loved-ones and wonder how much they contributed to the writings you might peruse here. I am thankful that my circumstances have allowed such a thorough exploration of my situation and the general experience of my fellow humans. Often I toy with the idea of revision, going over these old and sometimes misguided words, at the very least to clear up blatant mistakes, misunderstandings or errors in grammar, punctuation and clumsiness of style. At most I should like to point out all of the philosophical errors and refer to MSJ. But out of respect for the struggle and a fondness for my earlier passions, and also out of respect for an undistorted picture of how I have written and questioned and answered over this time, I decide not to, at least not today.

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