Tag Archives: Heidegger

The authenticity condition

Among that group of people on the liberal left who present themselves as policers of privilege, or as ‘intersectional’ ‘allies’ and so on, there is a prevalent belief that guides pretty much all else, but which should be rejected. It is the belief that unless A is a person of type X, A cannot understand X. Only a transexual/poor person/etc. can understand the experience of transexuals/poor people/etc. Let us call it the ‘authenticity condition’, the condition that the only person qualified to speak on X is someone with a direct personal (i.e. ‘authentic’) experience of X. Someone raised this point elsewhere on my blog, in response to a post on transsexualism, and Paul Bernal makes it in an otherwise fairly unobjectionable post on the often invisible privilege that enables some people to get on in life at the expense of others.

A focus on ‘privilege’ (which I put in scare quotes because the judgement of what counts as privilege in the context of the kind of liberalism I’m talking about is often quite tendentious) often goes hand in hand with this insistence on the authenticity condition, and the latter tends to devalue any of the insights of the former.

It should be immediately obvious that the authenticity condition is false. At root, it says nothing more than that person A can have no direct and unmediated experience of the thoughts or feelings of person B. Quite so: only the individual has unmediated access to those thoughts and feelings. (It is so banal that it is hardly worth saying.) But the individual themselves can mediate those thoughts and feelings. B can say to A ‘I feel happy because someone gave me a book’, and as long as A has had some experience of happiness by themselves, and knows what a book is, A can grasp a mediated sense of what B is feeling. Furthermore, once A knows that B is made happy by being given books, it’s possible for A to make interpretations of B’s feelings even without B directly reporting them, or to act in such a way as to make B happy even without B saying how to do it. So, for instance, if A sees B on another occasion reading a book, A might very well think that B is happy, because they have a book; if A sees B unhappy, they can hand over a book in the expectation that it might lead to an increase in happiness. B can correct this assumption of a relationship between books and happiness turns out to be wrong (the book might be by Dan Brown, for instance), but it’s a fair assumption to make on the basis of A’s previous knowledge.

Sometimes this knowledge which is gained before the event of an interpretation is really quite considerable. Consider the extensive and complex knowledge that a GP has of thousands of kinds of ailment. If B walks into Doctor A’s consulting room reporting a particular sort of discomfort, Doctor A has no direct and unmediated access to what B is reporting, but on the basis of what they do know about medicine, Doctor A can diagnose an illness and prescribe a treatment. The doctor doesn’t need to be able to directly feel what B feels, because B can report it. Sometimes, a patient might not be able to fully articulate the quality of a feeling they are experiencing, but a doctor can extrapolate from their knowledge to be able to accurately determine what the patient is suffering from, even though the patient doesn’t realize that the twinge two inches to the left is more significant than the more assertive one to the right.

According to the authenticity condition, the doctor would have to say ‘Since I cannot directly experience your thoughts and feelings, I’ll have to ask you to diagnose and treat yourself. It would be improper of me to do otherwise, because I would be presuming knowledge of your situation which I can’t experience at first hand. I would be impugning your experience and declaring that my own is superior to yours. In this context the only proper thing for me to do is, therefore, to shut up’.

Of course the liberal defenders of the authenticity condition would make no such demand of a doctor. The doctor has knowledge, access to what is currently understood to be true about medicine, and it is right for that knowledge to be applied, however imperfectly, to the treatment of patients. In the case of doctors, and pretty much nothing else, the majority of people are still happy to subscribe to the notion that there is Truth, an explanation for things which lies outside of ordinary everyday experience, and which has enormously useful explanatory power for our everyday lives. But the essential condition of liberalism, and particularly of the authenticity condition, is the assertion that there is no truth: there are only particular individual experiences, which only individuals can articulate.

Pretending to make do without truth

The particular historical cause for the emergence of this view was the experience of the twentieth century in the West, in which the kinds of Truth proclaimed by the Nazis, Soviets, and Americans (fascism, socialism-in-one-country, and capitalism) were seen to cause unparalleled human suffering. Alongside the rejection of fascism and socialism, the liberal consensus made an unconscious pact to reject the notion of Truth too, except in certain special cases: medicine is one admissible form of truth, and science more generally is given this credence too. Until recently, it was also fairly common for governments to be granted the privileged status of guardians of Truth, which they protected by means of ‘national security’ protocols and secret services, but since leaks about the unjustifiable practices of the security services have appeared, governments and intelligence agencies have lost their status as guardians.

We should not be misled by the abuses of those who have access to different forms of truth into thinking that Truth itself should be rejected. Even a hundred Harold Shipmans would not make it reasonable to suppose that medicine itself is untrustworthy and murderous. Nor should we be misled into thinking that in rejecting fascism and socialism we got rid of all Truth claims from global politics. One Truth got left behind, which claims to be the best explanation for how a peaceful, democratic, healthy, and prosperous civilization can run. It has increasingly many critics, but this Truth, which we call capitalism, is still given fundamental credence.

Truth is opposed to the authenticity condition, because Truth is by definition an understanding which has the potential to be universally applied. Medicine claims to explain universally what is wrong with sick humans. Alternative forms of medicine contest those claims to truth, but they make their own truth claims. Patients judge between the competing claims. That is how truth works. Crucially, the truth claims of the competing medicines are accepted as such: people know that they are weighing claims to universal truth, not just listening to individual opinions. A doctor doesn’t claim that antibiotics will help in accordance with the authenticity condition, but in accordance with a relationship to Truth.

As individual humans, we don’t have unmediated access to the experience of others. We find it very easy, however, to extrapolate from our own experience, by means of a fairly elementary logic. We suppose that our own experience is true to itself, and we assume the potential of universalizing that experience so that, with adjustments, we can do our very best to understand the thoughts and feelings of the people around us. Call it sympathy or empathy, call it Mitsein if you want to be Heideggerian about it. In each case, it is an interaction motivated by a commitment to Truth, not the authenticity condition. To insist that only X can speak of X is to deny the possibility of human sympathy and interaction, of one person attempting to work out, on the basis first of reflecting on their own subjective experience, and second listening to or observing another person, what another subject is feeling. To insist on the authenticity condition is to say that unless A experiences B’s sadness, A has no idea what it means to say that B is sad, or cannot imagine how B feels. It’s ludicrous. It’s inhuman. It should be rejected.

Putting truth back

Non-transexuals can gain a mediated understanding of the experience of transexuals if they listen to the accounts of transexuals. They can only get this understanding through mediation, but that’s not because they’re non-transexuals. It’s because nobody can gain unmediated access to the experience of another person. Transexual A can only understand the position of Transexual B through mediation too. They might need less of an explanation of the basic setup than Non-Transexual C, but we are not talking here about a difference in quality but only in quantity of knowledge.  In principle, Non-Transexual C can become quite as knowledgeable about the transexual experience in general as any transexual – or more so. Similarly, a doctor can understand the experience of lung cancer superbly well even without having lung cancer. A priest can understand the feelings of a person preparing for death even without being in the last moments of life themself. A historian can understand the subject position of people long dead. And so on. The Truth being appealed to here is that human experience is universal, that the only identity that counts is ‘being human’, and that every other kind of identity, however much it is pressed onto one culturally, is plastic, and can be reshaped or rejected.

So, finally, the authenticity condition must be rejected because, far from representing a view of the world that entirely denies the possibility of Truth, it actually supports the capitalist Truth. One of the principal strengths of late capitalism is the way that it has externalized human nature, in the sense that it makes us believe that the things that ‘make us who we are’ – things like musical taste, clothing, hairstyle, the kind of holidays we take or books we read, etc. – are ‘out there’, not within us, and specifically ‘out there’ in a market situation, so that we can buy a huge number of objects that help us to make sense of ourselves as individuals. It is even fair to say that our experience of ourselves is, thanks to late capitalism, essentially mediated too, by external commodities. In order to feed its circulation, capital likes us to generate ever-proliferating lists of identities, all of which need to be mediated by commodity purchase, none of which can be allowed to be universalized. Often, in the areas of human experience that liberals are particularly keen to police, these identities come under the capacious umbrella of the term ‘minority’. This is a non-analytic term, which says nothing about the experience or power of the people within it. The Queen is in a minority of one among 70 million, but she is hardly a ‘minority’ in the sense that people habitually use the term. But the non-analytic term ‘minorities’ has replaced useful analytic ones like ‘working class’, with the effect that the policing of language to do with ‘minorities’ has overtaken the focus on much more significant problems to do with class (an issue on which Mark Fisher, among others, has written extremely persuasively recently). Analytic terms like ‘working class’ of course are used to explain human experience in relation to a form of Truth (in this case an anti-capitalist one), but the authenticity condition denies the possibility that anyone who is not working-class (or, like Russell Brand, has lost the authenticity of their class by earning lots of money) can speak about the subjective experience of the working classes – and so it kills the possibility of an emancipatory politics.

Why do people bother with something that is not only foolish but also destructive to the progressive cause? Well, the authenticity condition certainly provides a comfort blanket for people who want to feel uniquely important, and who feel that their views must be heard because they are the only people with a right to speak. But it is at bottom a selfish condition, a condition which professes to ignore the possibility that human beings can talk to one another and see the world from another person’s perspective. It is fundamentally opposed to all forms of solicitude and love. It is a Thatcherite’s wet dream. Those who wish to defend this oppressive mode of thought should face up to the consequences of their intellectual commitment.

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AHRC Fellowship: Modernism’s Quilting Points

I’ve been awarded an AHRC Fellowship from January 2011 to January 2012 to work on my next book, Modernism’s Quilting Points: Heidegger, Žižek, Walton’, which will result in a Cambridge University Press monograph (with the slightly different title The Quilting Points of Musical Modernism: Revolution, Reaction, and William Walton). A summary of the project follows.

Modernism is both a contested aesthetic category and a powerful political statement. Modernist music was condemned as ‘degenerate’ by the Nazis and forcibly replaced by ‘socialist realism’ under the Soviets. Sympathetic philosophers and critics have interpreted it as a vital intellectual defence against totalitarianism, yet some American critics have labelled it ‘elitist’, ‘undemocratic’, and ‘unnatural’. Despite its evident importance, there is little agreement among this range of critics as to what the canon of modernist music actually comprises, or what its aims are. Continue reading