Brothers Karamazov (1880) & Melancholia (2011) : Cynicism III

Now, about Kant. The only work of Kant I own is a small book, bought used for 3.50$, that contains Foundations of the Metaphysics of Morals & What Is Enlightenment, and admittedly, I haven't even finished reading this one. Now, of course the juxtaposition of these two works were made by an editor and not by Kant, but it is still a bit weird to put these two books together. In What is Enlightenment (from 1784) he begins by stating 'Enlightenment is man's release from his self-incurred tutelage. Tutelage is man's inability to make use of his understanding without direction from another.' But already the next year (1785) he is writing a book trying to make a foundation for telling people what to do... I have no doubt, that Kant himself has probably written about this contradiction somewhere, but it is still one of those contradictions that runs through a lot of socalled Enlightenment Philosophy. They want people to think for themselves, and then they promptly tell people how to think. There is something weird about a philospher condemning people for thinking 'I need not think, if I can only pay - others will readily undertake the irksome work for me.' (all quotes are from page 85 of Foundations of the Metaphysics of Morals, McMillan, 1959. An older translation can be read here) The philosopher, who truly wants people to think for themselves, wouldn'd he be quiet? Wouldn't he withhold his knowledge from others, to force them to figure it out for themselves?

This week, I want to talk about whether or not cynicists believe people can and want to think for themselves. And then I'll discuss children, and whether or not our society believes they should be allowed to think for themselves. To do that, I'm going to talk about Dostoevsky's great final novel Brothers Karamazov from 1880, and Lars von Triers latest movie Melancholia.

Dostoevsky's Brothers Karamazov (1880)

Brothers Karamazov is completely central to Sloterdijk's argument in Critique of Cynical Reason. In chapter 7 called Cabinet of Cynics, Sloterdijk takes a look at 5 cynics from throughout the ages. These five are Diogenes, the original Kynic, Lucian the Mocker, who is used as an early example of a cynic on the side of the powerful, Mephistopheles from Goethe's Faust, The Grand Inquisitor from Brothers Karamazov, and finally the Anyone as used by Heidegger. Sloterdijk uses The Grand Inquisitor as an example of a powerful figure, who has begun withholding the truth from the people, because he believes that the people can't handle it. The figure is from a short story told by the middle brother Ivan, and it can be read here, where Jesus returns to Spain in the 16th century, right in the middle of the Spanish Inquisition. The Grand Inquisitor has him arrested and confronts him in his cell. He says that Jesus failed the people, as he was too perfect a human being so that the people could never follow his example, and he claims that the people abhor that Jesus wanted them to belive in him freely. The Inquisition has returned the amount of force back into religion, that the people deep inside really want. Sloterdijk says that the inquisitor speaks like a conservative politician after the French Revolution, when he says things like this 'They will tear down the temples and drench the earth with blood. But they will realize, the foolish children, that although they are rebels, they are impotent rebels who cannot bear their own rebellion' (p 185 in Sloterdijks book)

Sloterdijk mentions that he just uses these characters as figures, as symbols, and that he doesn't care that he might have taken them out of a context. But still, I find it interesting how Dostoevsky treats this theme towards the end of the book. Now I'm not going to spoil the end of the actual plot of the book, but there is a young character who is called Illusha and who is already dying when he is introduced, and the final chapter takes place at his funeral (but be careful reading it if you haven't read the book. It talks a bit about the resolution of the plot in the beginning). Alyosha, the youngest brother and the main character of the book, goes to the funeral along with a lot of young boys, who in the book is simply called the Boys. A lot of the book has been religious discussions between the three Brothers, like the chapter on the Grand Inquisitor, but in this final chapter we see how the discussion about religion is important to young people in their darkest hour. The boy who talks the most is called Kolya, and he has before claimed that he doesn't believe. Throughout the book he seems like a future Ivan, the learned and modern and almost nihilistic atheist. And yet, at the grave of his good friend, and spurred on by a preceding speech made by Alyosha, he suddenly cries out:

"Karamazov," cried Kolya, "can it be true what's taught us in religion, that we shall all rise again from the dead and shall live and see each other again, all, Ilusha too?"

"Certainly we shall all rise again, certainly we shall see each other and shall tell each other with joy and gladness all that has happened!" Alyosha answered, half laughing, half enthusiastic.

"Ah, how splendid it will be!" broke from Kolya.

To me, this almost legitimizes the Grand Inquisitor to some extent. This young boy has througout the book tried and taken pride in thinking for himself, and yet, when confronted by the true horror of life, he wants to be comforted by an older and presumably wiser man. Even though there really isn't anything convincing in Alyoshas answer, his authority, and Kolyas wish to believe in it, makes it true for him.

Lars von Trier's Melancholia (2011)

In the writings I have read about this film, no one has really mentioned how Dostoevskian parts of this film actually are. We have the scandalous wedding in the first half, a kind of scene that happens again and again in Dostoevsky's stories, like the first meeting of the family in Karamazov, Sonya's father's funeral in Crime and Punishment, the birthday party in Notes from Underground, the wedding in A Nasty Anecdote, etc. Also, the first part of the film could be seen as trying to achieve the kind of Dostoevskian Polyphony as described by Bakhtin. So many characters seems to show aspects of the question of: Freedom to do what you want vs the obligations you have to the rest of the world. Justine is going to marry Michael, and she gets depressed by having to do all the things at the wedding that everyone else expects of her, including her husband. Both of her parents has stopped thinking about what others think of them, as they are both getting closer to death. And Jack, Justines boss, is so wealthy and powerful, that he has stopped doing what anyone expects of him, and can't comprehend that anyone might want to do anything other than what he expects of them. The point of the film then, becomes that the planet Melancholia (and just death in general in the case of Justine and Claires parents) frees everyone from the expectations of society, as society is about to end, freeing the people who were depressed by expectations, and depressing those who actually did well in society.



But admittedly, the second - and much more problematic, in my opinion - half stops being so Dostoevskian. The amount of characters is reduced to three, and instead of being ways of commenting on a theme, von Trier focuses instead on an actual psychologically true depiction of Justines depression, which I find clashes with how unreal she acts in the first part. And also, the second part seems much more focused on all the obligatory things that must happen in an apocalyptic movie. If the film had jumped from the scene where Justine is sitting alone on a table, left by her father who chose not to be there for her, just as she chose not to be there for Michael, and to the scene where the planet actually hits the earth, it would have been a masterpiece in my opinion. But Dostoevsky and Brothers Karamazov come roaring back at the end. As both Claire and Justine realize that they are going to die, Claire breaks down and asks Justine that they do something 'nice' with their final moments, like sitting on the terrace and drinking a glass of wine. Justine calls this plan a 'piece of shit'. They are going to die awfully, and they should be honest about it. Then she goes outside and sees Claires frightened son. Immediately, Justine begins lying to the young boy about what is going to happen. They are going to survive, because she can make a Magic Cave. This is once again benevolent cynicism. Justine knows it's a lie, and she refused to perpetuate this kind of lying when an adult like Claire asked her to, but confronted with a young child, Justine begins lying again.

So would the world be a better place without cynicism? Would anyone tell the truth about the horrors of the world confronted with a young innocent child? The Grand Inquisitor, Alyosha Karamazov, Justine, they are not completely alike, but their differences are more like graduations on a scale. Alyosha and Justine treat children like children, to allow them to be young and innocent in a horrific world. The Grand Inquisitor treats everyone like children, and should according to Sloterdijk allow the rest of the world to grow up. But really, it's kinda the same impulse, isn't it?

Next week: Military Cynicism and Apocalypse Now: Redux

[Part I: Introduction and Mad Men]
[Part II: The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance & Police, Adjective]
[Part IV: Apocalypse Now]
[Part V: Inception]
[Part VI: Inglourious Basterds]