A thought on catharsis

Joe Sachs is the Official Aristotle Translator of Shimer College. I especially enjoy his rendering of the Poetics, which pushes back against traditional moralistic readings of Aristotle’s theory of tragedy. One element of such a reading is the view that Aristotle sees tragedy as playing some kind of role in purging the viewer’s emotions, which is normally how catharsis is understood — undergoing emotions as a way of “crying it out” or something like that.

The word katharsis only occurs once, in the midst of Aristotle’s definition of tragedy around 1449b20: “Tragedy, then, is an imitation of an action of serious stature and complete, having magnitude, in language made pleasing in distinct forms in its separate parts, imitating people acting and not using narration, accomplishing by means of pity and fear the cleansing of these states of feeling.” Or in Greek: “ἔστιν οὖν τραγῳδία μίμησις πράξεως σπουδαίας καὶ τελείας μέγεθος ἐχούσης, ἡδυσμένῳ λόγῳ χωρὶς ἑκάστῳ τῶν εἰδῶν ἐν τοῖς μορίοις, δρώντων καὶ οὐ δι᾽ ἀπαγγελίας, δι᾽ ἐλέου καὶ φόβου περαίνουσα τὴν τῶν τοιούτων παθημάτων κάθαρσιν.”

Sachs suitably leaves it ambiguous what kind of “cleansing” is at play here, and it strikes me that a more natural reading of the passage is that it is the states of feeling that are being purged, in themselves, not that the viewer is being purged of them. In tragedy, you experience pity and fear as such, in their pure state, purged of any merely idiosyncratic elements relating to your own experience. To play on a Kantian term, tragedy gives you access to non-pathological pathos. And this experience does not produce any moral or therapeutic result, but merely an “awe-striking impact.”

Tragedy doesn’t teach you morality, because its effect depends on you already knowing the moral norms. It doesn’t seek to make you a better person, because it depends on you being a middling sort of person. It just gives you an experience of awe-striking impact — which is to say, pleasure.

You want full communism? You better sublate work, bitch

I wouldn’t usually crosspost something about Britney here, but her new song does seem to have tapped in to a current interest in the topic of work; this piece in the Guardian is typical, arguing that the song reflects a contemporary, “religious” commitment to the value of work. That’s not what the song sounds like to me; it’s not so much capitalist ideology as capitalist id. While the official capitalist ethic proposes the necessity of hard work as the ground of equality, the capitalist id glories in the reality that you have to work while (indeed, because), capital doesn’t. Hence Britney’s imperious “work, bitch!” with the subtext that, work as hard as we like, we’ll never be as good as her; and doubtless we’ve all come to terms in our own way with the fact that we’re not Britney and never will be. But, if we follow the insight of the Neue Marx Lektüre that capital is the historical subject of capitalism, we might find in the id of this historical subject some useful indications of the mutations happening to the role of work in contemporary capitalism, and thereby come up with a more dialectical anti-work politics.We need this dialectical approach because of work’s contradictory position within capitalism: official capitalist ideology extols the virtues of work, but capital hates work and wants to minimize the amount of wage labour it employs, while at the same time wage labour is the source of capital’s profits and so ineliminable. So capital is itself anti-work, but in a contradictory and destructive way. It seems to me that our response to this shouldn’t be the social-democratic one of attempting to re-valorise work (which just embeds us further within capital’s contradictory attitude to work), but instead to try and trace capital’s anti-work position out past capital. Read the rest of this entry »

What is education actually for?

Among readers of this blog, I’m confident that there is a consensus on what education is not for: namely, it is not exclusively for job preparation. While working is part of life and education has to contribute to that, I doubt that anyone here is willing to say that education should be geared solely toward work.

That said, then, what is it actually for? Read the rest of this entry »

Plato or Aristotle: Who’s better?

Since the New Year, I’ve been reading some hardcore Plato and Aristotle, working my way through the Republic, the Nicomachean Ethics (in progress), and the Politics (still to come) as part of my class prep. In general, Shimer has led to a major uptick in my consumption of both authors, and in the case of Aristotle it has amounted to a massive crash-course in things that I “should’ve read” long ago.

It seems to me that Aristotle is more authentically dialogical in his approach than Plato, despite the format of their extant works. Perhaps it’s the difference between exposing ignorance (Plato) and looking for the “grain of truth” in all the received opinions (Aristotle). The result is a different kind of tedium characteristic of both authors — it can be hard to summon up the will power to follow yet another thorough consideration of various fine distinctions (Aristotle), but my eyes just glaze over through the repeated “Of course, Socrates!” sections in Plato.

At the same time, experience shows me that Plato’s dialogues are much better for generating in-class discussion than Aristotle’s texts, so what do I know?

Thoughts on Metaphysics Λ

Yesterday I taught book Λ of Aristotle’s Metaphysics, where he makes his famous argument in favor of the Unmoved Mover. It was apparently added to the Shimer curriculum this year, so I get to do the test run — and I’m pretty sure that trying to do it in isolation, in one class period was sub-optimal. Next time, I will add in some other materials for a preparatory session, probably mostly centered on book Θ (on potentiality).

Nonetheless, in both classes, we managed to work through the entire argument, through sheer force of will. One thing that struck me during this process was the extent to which Aristotle’s argument depends on our agreement that those moments when we really grasp something intellectually are the moments when we are most fully alive — the best moments of our lives. Needless to say, the students were skeptical and had in mind some alternatives that would make Plato and Aristotle roll over in their graves.

Another notable fact: the students largely seemed to come in with the assumption that the Unmoved Mover was closely analogous to the Christian God who actively creates and interacts with the world, etc. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth. Once we worked through Aristotle’s notion of beautiful or desirable objects as moving us while remaining unmoved themselves, students seemed to have an “aha moment.” Yet that argument, while intellectually satisfying, also points directly toward what is unappealling about Aristotle’s vision. Basically, you have a completely autistic God enjoying being itself in blissful ignorance of the material universe, which is endlessly trying and failing to become as awesome as the Unmoved Mover.

It’s a vision of a universe founded completely on desire, on aspiration, or, if you’re feeling less generous, on envy, and an envy that’s all the more acute once you realize not only that you can literally never, ever reach your goal but also that the person you envy does not and cannot ever know you even exist. I find the idea that intellectual satisfaction is what is best and most pleasant appealling — but not if this is where it ends up.

And it now occurs to me to wonder what difference it would make if you substituted in the orgasm as the best and most pleasant experience, as today’s cultural common sense would dictate. One student was very turned off by Aristotle’s argument and wondered how it could possibly apply to oppression and injustice, and I think she got her answer — it’s totally compatible with oppression and injustice (from our modern perspective) and even requires it insofar as he thinks that certain creatures can only reach so high. Yet privileging mind-blowing sex over intellectual highs would seem to wind up in a very similar place.

Object-Oriented Aristotelianism

I have been working through Aristotle’s Metaphysics in preparation for teaching Book Lambda next week, and it strikes me that Object-Oriented Ontology seems like a neo-Aristotelianism — the major change being that there is no Unmoved Mover. It also strikes me that Aristotle’s philosophical system would run into significant impasses without the Unmoved Mover.

The appeal of the idiosyncratic

Preparations for teaching have brought me into contact with two new translations: Robert Alter’s rendering of Genesis and Joe Sachs’s version of Aristotle’s Metaphysics. Though the underlying texts could not be more different in style and genre, I think that the impulse behind the two translations is similar: to cut through a translation tradition that has impeded understanding, but more than that, has rendered the texts in question boring.

It is a gesture that I find profoundly attractive, a kind of “Protestant principle” of translation. Part of the appeal is probably the individualism of it, which sits well with someone like me, since I flatter myself that I have “charted my own way” without accumulating an approved pedigree. More than that, though, I think the attraction of this kind of radical retranslation is the sense that it’s not just possible to say something new about some of the most commented-upon texts in the Western tradition, but to see them again for the first time.

Genesis, for instance, is obviously one of the most familiar texts in the world to me, and yet Alter’s translation made it feel brand-new. I can’t say I’ve studied Aristotle anywhere near as closely, but the contrast between Sachs’s translation and the jargon-laden near-nonsense I struggled to work through before could not be clearer. I now want to read every translation both authors have done of their respective body of texts — which is especially striking in the case of Sachs, since I’ve previously had no particular interest in Aristotle.

Do others know of similarly iconoclastic translations of other major works?


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