“Not with wrath do we kill but with laughter. Come let us kill the spirit of gravity.”
“I would only believe in a god who could dance.”
“And when I saw my devil I found him serious, thorough, profound and solemn: it was the spirit of gravity – through him all things fall.”
“You need chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star.”
“In every philosophy there is a point at which the philosopher’s conviction appears on the scene: adventavit asinus, pulcher et fortissimus [the ass arrives, beautiful and most brave].”
- all Nietzsche
One of the great themes in Nietzsche’s writing is the idea of philosophy as pathology: the idea that the superficially complex systems of thought created by philosophers from Socrates to Kant, are in essence just symptoms of a kind of sickness – like the whining that an animal makes when it is in pain, just a little more sophisticated.
And over the years I have come to think that he is right; if a thinker can’t dance, then their thinking is probably a kind of pathological symptom – like sneezing, or whining or pus. Nietzsche argues that much philosophy is precisely this kind of sickness or ‘resentment’ - and that more often than not philosophers are merely expressing the suffering in other areas of their lives. Angry dogs bark, angry people make complex arguments.
“Concerning life, the wisest men of all ages have judged alike: it is no good. Always and everywhere one has heard the same sound from their mouths -- a sound full of doubt, full of melancholy, full of weariness of life, full of resistance to life. Even Socrates said, as he died: "To live -- that means to be sick a long time: I owe Asclepius the Savior a rooster." - Nietzsche
So how do you tell pathological thinking from healthy thinking? Through dance. By dancing I don’t think either of us necessarily mean only literal dancing (though that is a positive sign) – it is more the joyful, playful, light-hearted orientation towards things that makes a mind dance. Only this can tell us whether ideas float free of some terrible gravity – some grave sickness – which lies at their heart.
In the playfulness of our thoughts, we see our dance steps. In turn, these reveal our deeper intent. Emotion lies concealed at the heart of all argument.
If you would like to see this in action, I recommend this debate on ‘political correctness’ featuring Stephen Fry, Jordan Peterson, Michael Dyson and Michelle Goldberg. I make no comment about the arguments. Each person makes valid points. However, of the four, only Stephen dances – though the rest make superficially coherent arguments, one cannot help but feel they are emotionally fixated, permanently trapped in a pathological argument from which they will never budge.
Stephen recognizes this for the problem that it is. And at the end he quotes G K Chesterton:
‘angels can fly, because they take themselves lightly’
As so, though there are things that I agree with and admire in the writings of people like Nicholas Nassim Taleb and Jordan Peterson, I think I recognize them for what they are – ultimately pathological and fixated. As for me, I know that when I lose my sense of humour, I have fallen down and that I am no longer making progress towards the truth.
If you are wondering how to improve your thinking, or whether you should follow a thinker, look to dance. Do you dance? Do they dance?
The truth, after all, dances.
This makes me think of Douglas Rushkoff, who used the analogy of surfing.
ReplyDeleteI don't surf any more than I dance, at least not physically, though I like to think I do so mentally.
Which brings me to Francis Ford Coppola and the ultimate criticism of communism: "Charlie don't surf."