See 10:1-14 fn.; 40:19:
Just as there is a futurum (ins blaue hinein [in the deep blue yonder]), an infinite, continued development, which demolishes all more profound speculation, so the contrasting figure is a “prius,” a “præ” in regressive infinity, such as the Alexandrian’s pre-existence of the λόγος [word, reason], pre-existence of matter, pre-existence of the soul, pre-existence of evil—and just as misleading for all more profound thought.
—JP II 2088 (Pap. II A 448) May 29, 1839
See title page and epigraph:
With regard to the relation between what is right for all times and for particular times, the thesis that Christian doctrine claims—that something is right before God—determines it; see para. 182,1 Plato’s Euthyphro.2
Incidentally, there is skepticism at this point if the boundary is not scrupulously defined. Leibniz’s analogy that the rules for harmony exist before anyone plays (see para. 181)3 proves nothing. Only abstract truth is proved in this way. But Christianity is a historical truth4—how, then, can it be the absolute? If it is the historical truth, then, of course, it appeared at a certain time and in a certain place and thus is valid only for a certain time and a certain place. If we say that it, just as harmony, existed prior to the coming into existence, we are saying no more about it than about any other idea, for it, too, is άπάτωϱ, άμήτωϱ, άγενεαλόγητος [without father or mother or genealogy];5 if we strongly insist on it, then we enervate the essence of Christianity, for the historical is precisely its essential aspect, whereas in other ideas this is the accidental.—Pap. IV C 35 n.d., 1842-43
See 72:2-7; 74:4-36; 80:4-5, 11-12:
Is the past more necessary than the future?
This can be significant with respect to the solution of the problem of possibility—how does Hegel answer it? In the Logic, in the doctrine of essence. Here we get the explanation that the possible is the actual [det Virkelige], the actual is the possible. It is simple enough in a science, at the conclusion of which one has arrived at possibility. It is then a tautology.
This is important in connection with the doctrine of the relation between the future and God’s foreknowledge.
The old thesis that knowledge neither takes away nor adds.
See Boethius,7 pp. 126-27, later used by Leibniz.8
—JP II 1245 (Pap. IV C 62) n.d., 1842-43
From sketch; see title page and epigraph:
How do I obtain a historical point of departure for my eternal consciousness, and how can such a point of departure be of more than historical interest for me; how can I build my happiness on historical knowledge?—Pap. V B 1:1 n.d., 1844
From sketch; see title page and epigraph:
This [a historical point of departure for an eternal consciousness] is and remains the main problem with respect to the relation between Christianity and philosophy. Lessing is the only one who has dealt with it.9 But Lessing knew considerably more what the issue is about than the common herd [Creti and Pleti] of modern philosophers.—JP III 2370 (Pap. V B 1:2) n.d., 1844
From sketch:
Lessing uses the word leap;10 whether it is an expression or a thought is a matter of indifference—I understand it as a thought.
Sämtl. W., VI [V].11
—JP III 2342 (Pap. V B 1:3) n.d., 1844
From draft; see 5-8:
It is by no means my intention with this project to be polemical, to defend something or to combat something. The declaration I herewith bona fide give is devoid of all irony (which should make it an objective explanation that even an infant and an animal can manage), is without any mental reservation, and is in optima forma, which seems to make it worse for me. “I have not succeeded in joining more profound learning with independent thought in such a way that I can satisfy the requirements of both as I wished to do and as one who has a legitimate claim to be classified under scientific scholarship ought to be able to do.” My choice, then, is made in accordance with this consciousness. I pack up my little bundle and declare myself unauthorized to have any scholarly judicative opinion, to which I am not entitled, inasmuch as scientific-scholarly modesty ought to be as virginal as women are zealous in denunciation of looseness, and inasmuch as I, for the sake of my own honor and for the sake of the sanctity of scientific scholarship, would rather lead a modest life outside scientific scholarship than foolishly take part in it. I take my leave, then, recommending myself as best I can, and take my place in pamphlet literature, whereby I relinquish any claim to be a part of the scientific-scholarly enterprise or of acquiring any ever so relative legitimacy as a link or transition, as a concluder, participator, or introducer, [V B 24 84] as a co-worker. Nor am I in the mood for such, for I feel like a poor lodger12 who has his little room in the attic of a huge building that is still being expanded and remodeled and with horror thinks he detects that the foundation is crumbling;[*] I feel like a spider that preserves its life by remaining overlooked in its corner, although it shivers and quakes inwardly with presentiments of a storm.[**] So let me go on sitting here. I really do not credit myself with scientific scholarship; I do not fraternize with its devotees; I do not force myself on anyone. My thought and its fate are not of the slightest importance to anyone, with the exception of myself. What I do, I do proprio Marte, propriis auspiciis, proprio stipendio [by one’s own hand, on one’s own behalf, at one’s own expense]—in short, I do it as a proprietarius [independent owner], insofar as one can be that without owning something, without coveting something. I do it candidly, not sophistically, if Aristotle’s definition of sophistry as the art of making money13 is at all correct. I do it honestly, for it is not my intention to deceive anyone. If to the best of my poor ability I take note of some individual thinker, I shall conscientiously quote him as well as I can.[†] As for stray remarks, I follow my old custom of placing in quotation marks everything I know is not my own and everything of which I do not know the source. My renunciation of learning is not deceitful, and even if it pains me to have to do it, it comforts me in turn that those who want to be learned, just as those who want to be rich, will fall into all kinds of snares and spiritual trials, something I can easily visualize, for if the “one-drachma” course I have taken has already ensnared me in many ways—to what spiritual trials, then, will not the person [*] be exposed who takes the “big fifty-drachma course”?14
—Pap. V B 24 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 7:27-30:
. . . . . the honor of the god. At times I am a foreman, at times a horseman. —If thought wants something investigated speedily and swerves aside with the speed of an arrow, then I am a jockey—if it advances as slowly as a ship of the desert, then I am the little boy who sits with my goad and drives.—Pap. V B 36:1 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 8:2-8:
I can stake my own life, not the lives of others. What I offer thought is not learning but a human life, which, whenever a difficulty appears, is willing to lay down life simply in order to solve it.—Pap. V B 36:2 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 9:1:
1st position.15
—Pap. V B 3:1 n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 9:1-6; 109:5-9:
Propositio16
Positio17
Historical Costume18
—Pap. V B 1:12 n.d., 1844
Propositio.
[changed from: 1st Position.]
—Pap. V B 40:6 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 9:3-4:
Position II.
One in ignorance who presumably knows historically what he is asking about but seeks the answer.—Pap. V B 10 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 9:5-6; 109:18-110:8:
Chapter I.
Thought-Project.
As is well known, Christianity is the only historical phenomenon that, the historical notwithstanding—indeed, precisely by means of the historical—has wanted to be the single individual’s point of departure for his eternal consciousness, has wanted to interest him otherwise than merely historically, has wanted to base his happiness on his relation to something purely historical. No philosophy, no mythology, no historical knowledge has ever had this idea, of which one can therefore say—is it a recommendation or a condemnation?—that it did not arise in any human heart, for these three spheres must provide analogies to this self-contradicting duplexity, if such are to be found. However, we shall forget this, and have forgotten it, as if Christianity had never existed; on the other hand, employing the unrestricted propensity of a hypothesis,19 we shall assume that this question was a whimsical idea that had occurred to us and that we now in turn do not wish to abandon before finding the answer. The monks never finished narrating the history of the world, because each one started with creation. If in discussing the relation between philosophy and Christianity we begin by narrating what was said earlier, then how shall we ever—not finish—no, ever manage to begin, for this history just keeps on growing. If we begin with that thinker and sage Pontius Pilate, Executor novi testamenti, and yet, before beginning, first wait for the decisive book that some assistant professor or publisher has announced—what then?—Pap. V B 3:2 n.d., 1844
From final copy; opening portion on 9:5 transferred to 109:18–110:8:
As is well known, Christianity is the only [same as 109:18–110:8 except for a few minor changes].
In margin: to be placed at the end of Chapter V, so that the first part ends with these words.—Pap. V B 40:7 n.d., 1844
Deleted from final copy, replaced by marginal addition; see 10:7-14 fn.:
The contradictions of existence are explained by positing a “pre” as needed (the Alexandrians);20 contradictions of existence are explained by some “post” or other (wandering on the stars).—Pap. V B 40:8 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 12:13-14:
Εὐϰαταφοϱία είς πάθος [propensity for passion] (Tennemann, Geschichte der Philosophie, IV, p. 129 n.).21—Pap. V B 3:4 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 15:24-17:20:
That other teacher, then, must be God himself. As the occasion, he acts to remind me that I am untruth and am that through my own fault; as God, he also gives the condition with the truth.
In margin: Savior.
Deliverer.
Redeemer.
In margin: If, with the same money, a child could buy a good book—and a toy—if he has bought the toy, could he then buy the good book with the same money.—Pap. V B 3:8 n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 15:32-16:13:
It must be some place in the N. T.: the man to whom one is subordinate is the man one must serve; one who sins is a slave of sin??? Where is this found?
Rom. 6:16 John 8:34
—Pap. V B 2 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 19:26-37:
If, then, the moment is to have decisive meaning (and if not, we speak only Socratically, something we do not want), then the relation will look like this.—Pap. V B 3:11 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 20:23-34:
Then he thinks for the second time that God exists since he himself is guilty.22—Pap. V B 3:12 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 21:7-11:
Whereas in Socratic thought recollection became the proof for the immortality of the soul, forgetting will now be the beginning of the soul’s eternal happiness; whereas Socrates had eternity behind him, in the second case one has eternity ahead.—Pap. V B 3:13 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 21:12-22:16:
. . . . . did not arise in any human heart—for it is still too much to demand of a human being that he must discover that he does not exist [er til]—. . . . .
and did not occur before year 1.
Like a vagabond who charges a fee for showing what everyone sees, or like that ram that was exhibited for a fee and in the afternoon was out grazing.
Your projects are not just snatched out of thin air—but are borrowed from the mayor’s desk.—Pap. V B 3:14 n.d., 1844
In margin of draft; see 24:17:
I wonder if Socrates was that cold; I wonder if it did not hurt him that Alcibiades could not understand him.—JP IV 4262 (Pap. V B 4:3) n.d., 1844
From draft; see 24:31-38:
He must be moved by himself, and how could we define this more specifically than by love.—Pap. V B 4:4 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 30:34-31:27:
. . . . . to being. A procreative love.
In margin: to be developed
Compare Symposium—Greek love—
Through this love, the teacher gives birth to himself, comes into existence.—Pap. V B 4:6 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 33:37-34:16:
He must leave them, and they do not comprehend that this is good.—Pap. V B 4:7 n.d., 1844
In margin of draft; see 35:3-36:27:
The Conclusion of the Chapter
Now, if someone were to say that what I have composed is the shabbiest plagiarism ever to appear, since it is nothing more nor less than what any child knows, then I presumably must put up with appearing to be a liar. But may not the composition be true because I have not composed it? And if it is untrue, then it is, after all, a poor composition, and my plagiarizing is not worth talking about. And if it is true?—well, then, any child, after all, knows the same. Who, then, is the author
Proverb—
The Wonder
. . . . . did not arise in any human heart, and therefore should you find fault with me for my presentation . . . . .
—Pap. V B 4:2 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 39:4-9:
. . . . . as the page in Figaro says23. . . . .
—Pap. V B 5:2 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 40:12-30:
I never reason in conclusion to existence (for in that case I would be mad to want to reason in conclusion to what I know), but I reason in conclusion from existence and am so accommodating to popular opinion as to call it a demonstrative argument. Thus the connection is somewhat different from what Kant meant—that existence is an accessorium [addition]24—although therein he undeniably has an advantage over Hegel25 in that he does not confuse.
In margin: eternal presupposition.
—Pap. V B 5:3 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 40:31-43:22:
[V B 5.5 60] . . . . . but when I say God’s works and proceed from them, I have, of course, presupposed him.
In margin: . . . . . this is the Spinozistic improvement of the Anselmian-Cartesian idea, which no doubt profoundly but nevertheless deceptively permits a shift by suddenly switching from a factual line of demonstration to an ideal one. Ideally viewed, these works demonstrate a corresponding ideal existence (as the poet does also when he poetizes the hero, but no more than that). The whole thing is a sleight of hand, reminiscent of the Cartesian dolls. One wants the idea, standing on its legs, to stand on its head the moment one lets go of it.[*] Absolutely right, but my letting go of it is indeed unsere Zuthat [our addition]: I give it up. Make this moment as diminutive as one will, it is still present, and if this is forgotten, I could be tempted to recall Carneades’ reply to Chrysippus. Chrysippus thought he could get a sorites to stop or to switch over into a new quality. Carneades rejected this. Then, in order to make it clear, Chrysippus proposed that one could pause for a moment in the reckoning—[V B 5.5 61] then one would understand it better. Carneades answered: Go ahead. As far as I am concerned, you may not only pause for a moment but you may lie down and go to sleep.
(Tennemann, IV, p. 344.)26
In other words, Carneades disputed the thesis that two magnitudes are just as great as an equal third—if one is going to draw a conclusion from it. —He is clearly right in this, for the thesis is only a tautology, since three mathematical magnitudes that are absolutely equal are not three but are the same magnitude.
[*] Or it may also be the result of the inability of human [V B 5 5 60] thought to stand on its legs at all (stand alone) and its need to stand on its head right away, but then it does not occur by way of a conclusion but by an immediate leap.
—Pap. V B 5:5 n.d., 1844
Deleted from final copy; see 43 fn.:
Note. It is true that I am not a poet and thus dare not claim [V B 40 11 92] to be capable of an opinion, but would it not have an almost madly comical effect to portray a man deluded into thinking that he could demonstrate that God exists—and then have an atheist accept it by virtue of the other’s demonstration. Both situations are equally fantastic, but just as no one has ever demonstrated it, so has there never been an atheist, even though there certainly have been many who have been unwilling to let what they know (that the god exists) get control [V B 40.11 93] of their minds. It is the same as with immortality. Suppose someone became immortal by means of another’s demonstrating it*—would that not be infinitely ridiculous. Therefore there has never been a man who has not believed it, but there certainly have been many who have been unwilling to let the truth conquer in their souls, have been loathe to allow themselves to be convinced, for what convinces me exists, but the important thing is that I become immersed in it. —With respect to the existence of God, immortality, etc., in short, with respect to all problems of immanence, recollection applies; it exists altogether in every man, only he does not know it, but it again follows that the conception may be very inadequate.
In margin: *(just as Nille became a stone and the deacon a rooster),27 suppose there was someone who went around as a miracle man, set up his booth, and demonstrated the immortality of the individual for a fee, just as indulgences were sold, and thus only the individual whose immortality he demonstrated became immortal.—JP III 3606 (Pap. V B 40:11) n.d., 1844
From draft; see 44:17:
Too bad that the Sophists did not concern themselves with such things, for it would have been salutary for our age to hear Socrates converse with them about that.*
In margin: *If Socrates had been acquainted with the section, I think he would have given a banquet in his joy over the opportunity to ask whether they knew something or not.
—Pap. V B 5:6 n.d., 1844
Deleted from final copy; see 44:13-17:
At the god’s command, he casts out his net,28 so to speak, to catch fitness and purpose, for nature itself comes up with many terrifying devices and many subterfuges in order to disturb. Too bad that the Sophists did not concern themselves with such things, for it would have been very rewarding to later ages if Socrates had introduced a little discipline. If Socrates could have known all the many professors and student teachers who demonstrate the existence of God, I think that out of joy over all this magnificence he himself would have given a banquet merely in order to have the opportunity of conversing with these wise men.—Pap. V B 40:12 n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 45:36:
How difficult it must have been for Christ’s disciples that he did not work etc., did not actualize the ethical in this sense—that he predicted something that did not happen—that he hid something from them—.—Pap. V B 1:11 n.d., 1844
In margin of draft; see 45:36:
from the standpoint of the god.—Pap. V B 5:7 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 46:1-6:
Yes, neither do I know the difference [between the god and man] as long as I do not stay by the single difference, nor, if I do not know the difference, can I know whether it is present. Thus this individual human being has become the god, for if the understanding holds fast to some distinguishing mark, then it is not because this is the distinguishing mark but because the understanding is arbitrary enough to want it to be the distinguishing mark. In this way the understanding has brought the god as close to itself as possible and yet as far away as possible, and this is the most ironical thing imaginable—the god himself has become pure negativity. Historically, one can perhaps show this to be the most fantastic thing conceivable; whether this assumption has ever been historical or not makes no difference in the case, but in this way the understanding itself has made the Incarnation a paradox, which only it itself can produce.—JP II 1340 (Pap. V B 5:8) n.d., 1844
In margin of draft; see 46:7-47:25:
the absolute paradox is, then, (negatively and positively) a duplexity; otherwise it is not the absolute paradox
—Pap. V B 5:9 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 46:16-47:25; 55:4-57:17:
[V B 5 10 62] Let us agree about this difficulty, whether it would not be necessary for the understanding that the god would reveal himself only in order to become discernible through difference, for you recall from the foregoing that if the teacher is to be something other than an occasion (under which assumption man would remain the highest), the learner must be untruth, and of this he could not be conscious by himself. It is the same with his knowledge of the god. First he must know the difference, but this he cannot know by himself. The difference that he himself provides is identical with likeness, because he cannot get outside himself. If, then, he comes to know the difference, he comes to know it absolutely and comes to know the absolute difference, and this is the first paradox. Now follows the second, that in spite of this absolute difference, the god must be identical with man, and not with humanity but with this individual human being. But the moment he comes to know that the god is absolutely different from him, he also comes to know that he himself is absolutely different from the god. Therefore, we said that when the paradoxical passion of self-knowledge is awakened, it would have a disturbing reflexive effect upon the man, so that he who believed he knew himself would become doubtful as to whether he was a human being or a more artfully constructed animal than Typhon. But if the human being is absolutely different from the god, this difference cannot be rooted in what the god himself has given to him but must be rooted in himself. Therefore we said that the untruth is also self-deserved. The difference, then, becomes sin. But if he is now to become like the god, is this not the absolute paradox?
In the foregoing29 we have poetized the god as teacher and [V B 5.10 63] savior. Thus he did indeed become an individual human being. But his purpose was certainly not to mock men by revealing himself and then dying in such a way that no human being ever came to know his revelation. Every clue of the understanding was in itself no clue, and therefore it would have been no clue at all if he had gone triumphantly through the world and dominated all kingdoms and countries. Therefore in our poem something offensive was included: he was not entirely like other human beings; in little things he was different. This we could easily have developed further if we had extended the poem. He did not labor; in this way he did not concern himself with human affairs. And there was yet another difference: he suffered.
In margin: For the next chapter.—JP III 3081 (Pap. V B 5:10) n.d., 1844
In margin of draft; see 47:26-48:16:
Suppose this were conceivable, and yet this is what the understanding would have to will, just as erotic love wills its own downfall, even though this is an imperfect metaphor.
In the moment of passion, erotic love does not notice this—.
—Pap. V B 5:11 n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 49:1-12; 52:28-29; 53:32:
Chapter IV.
Offense at the Paradox.
See: telegraph message from an effervescent [mousvoyant] to a clairvoyant.
Hamann. Lies, comedies, and novels must be probable.30
I would rather
hear the truth from the mouth of a Pharisee than from an angel and apostle.31
—Pap. V B 6:1 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 49:23:
Offense at the Paradox
[deleted: (manifest in the pathological defense) changed to: conceived as resonance]
an acoustical illusion
—Pap. V B 11:2 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 51:28-29:
If the learner does not collide in the moment in the collision of understanding, as we have shown, then the paradox thrusts him away, and he takes offense or is scandalized.—JP III 3082 (Pap. V B 11:4) n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 55:4-57:17:
In Chapter II, we have poetized the god as teacher and savior. Thus he did indeed become an individual human being. But his purpose was certainly not to mock men by revealing himself and then living and dying in such a way that it never occurred to anyone that it had happened. Every clue of the understanding was in itself no clue; for him to have marched triumphantly through the world conquering kingdoms and countries would have been no clue. Therefore in our poem something offensive was included: he was not entirely like other human beings; in little things he was different. This we could easily have developed further if we had extended the poem. He did not labor; he did not apply himself to or concern himself with earthly affairs, and—he suffered.
—Pap. V B 6:3 n.d., 1844
The god must draw attention to himself but must not betray anything (John the Baptizer).—Pap. V B 6:6 n.d., 1844
In margin of draft; see 56:34-57:17:
All of which certainly could seem inadmissible, and we caution against being unstable in life this way and putting up somewhere when evening draws near, but the person who does not do it for the sake of comfort certainly dares to make himself an exception at this point.—Pap. V B 12:1 n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 58:24-38:
The question already pertains to the apostles, for here it is not a matter of a distance of centuries or of the historical in the narrower sense (the traditional), but how do I come to have a point of departure (outside myself) at all for my eternal consciousness—does it all lie in God and in my relationship to him?—Pap. V B 1:4 n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 58:24-38:
The contemporary follower is in the very same position as the follower at second hand with respect to obtaining a historical point of departure for his eternal consciousness. This must be heeded unconditionally.—Pap. V B 6:4 n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 59:1-18:
The teacher must also give the condition—(faith is the condition).—Pap. V B 6:2 n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 62:1-66:2:
To have faith (Fantasy? No. Cognition? No! Historical knowledge? No. Tangibility? No!)—Pap. V B 6:7 n.d., 1844
In margin of draft; see 62:3-7:
. . . . . all knowledge is concerned either with teaching or with historical knowledge about the teacher.—Pap. V B 12:4 n.d., 1844
In margin of draft; see 65:15-16:
. . . . . the two disciples on the road to Emmaus—Mary Magdalene.—Pap. V B 12:5 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 67:35-69:30:
Or is this what it means to be a contemporary, and is this the contemporary we eulogize, who is able to say,[*] “We ate and drank before his eyes, and the teacher taught in our streets,”[**] yet without having known the teacher, which, after all, only the believer (the person not immediately contemporary) did, and without being known by the teacher,* and if the situation nevertheless is such that the teacher gives the condition, then one of course cannot know him without being known by him, and one knows him only insofar as one is known.[†]
From sketch; see 69:32-71:17:
Therefore in only one respect can I extol those eyes and ears as blissfully happy (for the difficulty is terrible)—in being free from all the drivel with which someone later, for example, 2,000 years later, would be plagued and hindered in autopsy, for all faith is autopsy.—Pap. V B 6:8 n.d., 1844.
. . . . . one single wonder that baffles explanation;* thus his joy becomes by no means so secure or so glorious as the joy of the one who is contemporary with that imperial wedding.
In margin: *he does not know and cannot historically know whether he should admire it or be secretly indignant at being made a fool, for by having merely historical information about the wonder, a person never comes further—unless he comes to offense, and who will envy him that?—Pap. V B 12:8 n.d., 1844
In margin of draft; see 70:21-71:2:
. . . . . and if he were to continue to talk a lot of nonsense about the gloriousness of being contemporary, we would let him go, but the next minute we would also perceive that his path takes him to that imperial wedding, where he feels completely at home, and the more he talks about the gloriousness, the further we see him move from the paradox, past Socrates—until he finally joins the dance at the wedding, and such gloriousness as that is certainly worth running after, but the paradox is not to be run after—and is not του̃ τϱέχοντος [of the one running].32—Pap. V B 12:9 n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 72:1-3:
Chapter VI [changed to: Interlude]
Is the Past More Certain than the Future.
something about this may be found in the tall cupboard in the corner toward Frue Kirke.—Pap. V B 6:9 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 73:5-11:
. . . . . that you were so foolish as to understand* the newest philosophy, which on this point has gained for itself a Herostratic33 unforgettableness. An individual can be called absent-minded (if he is that at all); unfortunately, an entire age cannot be called that, and yet this is what I would like to call the newest philosophy. Now it is not too bad that one cannot very well say it (that is, apply this expression to an entire age); it is worse that the age nevertheless is absent-minded.
In margin: *and to agree with.
—Pap. V B 13 n.d., 1844
From draft, continuation of Pap. V B 13; see 73:11, 78:6 fn.:
[V B 14 70] There is a phrase that, when uttered, pierces the soul with awe-inspiring solemnity; there is a name that, when uttered together with the phrase from which it is inseparable, makes [V B 14 71] a person take off his hat and bow down. Even a person who does not know the man removes his hat long before he sees the man and stands with hat in hand without seeing the man. It is a phrase that means something and a name that means something: it is the absolute method[*] and Hegel.35 Nowadays the absolute method is at home not only in logic but also in the historical sciences. O worldly eminence, what are you, after all; ah, loveliest of roses, how sharp your thorns. I would not be the absolute method, never in the world, and have only such a home as Hegel has prepared for it in logic[**], not to mention in the historical sciences. To have to take refuge in wordplay and witticisms, to cram holes with blotting paper, to have to parade with tinsel and be silent about its not hanging together properly—oh, this is a high price to be the absolute method. Cromwell the Protector in all his glory could not be more unfortunate than the absolute method, even when the trumpet blast proclaims its majesty. And yet Hegel was indeed a great logician, certainly something no one will deny him, even if it is not trumpeted abroad, but alongside of that he had a great penchant for logical gim-crackeries [Snurrepiberier] and the psychological peculiarity of assigning them the highest value and was especially eager to become recognized for these.[*] In the same way, Nero was incensed at Vindex (who had incited rebellion) not because he had said that he was a bad emperor but because he had said that he was a bad zither player, as his words declare: Nero is a bad zither player but an even worse emperor.
But we shall not discuss logic here; we shall merely consider the application of the absolute method to the historical.[**] Too bad that Hegel, merely for the sake of illusion, did not have 1843 years at his disposal, for then he presumably would have had time to make the test as to whether the absolute method, which could explain all world history, could also explain the life of one single human being. In ancient times, one would have smiled at the kind of wisdom that can explain all of world history absolutely but cannot explain one single human being, for in ancient times the wise man did not go further in such a way that he did not also understand what the simple person understood. Of course, I do not know, either, if any wise man in ancient times called his method the absolute method.
We shall not be so arrogant as to do everything on a grand scale. We shall speak of a single individual human life in the way it can be lived out here on earth. All that holds true of the history of the race holds true of such a person. If one can see God in history, one can see him also in the life of the individual; to think that one can do the former and not the latter is to delude oneself by yielding, in regard to the historical, to the brutish imbecility that in the observation of nature sees God by being taught that Sirius is 180,000 million miles away from the earth. The sensate man is astounded by this, and when a person does not have a clear conscience, it is best to speak of the whole, of the totality, etc. If every single human being is not an individual, himself and the race, simply by being human, then everything is lost and it is not worth the trouble to hear about the great world-historical events or the absolute method. But the world wants to be deceived. Now, it goes without saying that it is a swindle to get all world history instead of one’s own insignificant person—if one does not gain in the trade. Yet people are deceived, [V B 14 73] deceived insofar as they do not come to understand themselves, which is made evident by their supposing that they have understood the whole world without this.
The question as we have presented it is simplified as much as possible, and in the treatment of it we shall again strive to simplify everything as much as possible; for even if the something else received instead of the answer to this particular question were something absolutely glorious, it would still be essentially indulgence in a wicked dissipation, and it would be a loss to get to know something else instead of receiving an answer to the perhaps more insignificant question, but, after all, please note, the one that was asked. No doubt this often happens in the most recent science and scholarship precisely because it has the pet idea of becoming concrete immediately.36 But this concretion often has the seductive effect of depriving thought of peace of mind, the scientific-scholarly contentment that is satisfied with thought itself. This is by no means to say that it is wrong of science and scholarship to assimilate concrete matter, but it simply should not begin with that. The mathematician is delighted with his algebra, which means nothing but the calculation itself. The sensate person may not be content with that, but would it therefore be proper for the mathematician promptly to give up the letters and choose dollars, marks, and shillings merely in order to arouse the sensate person to participation through the stimulation of his passion. This is the way it goes when one begins to make the thought concrete immediately and does not first of all clarify in pure abstraction the thought one wants to make applicable in the concrete. The concrete is the manifold and as such exercises an enchanting power over a person. Suppose it happened—and why should it not happen—that the thought[*] that is to be pointed out [V B 14 74] in the concrete remained unclear but that the concrete was itself so rich, so variegated, that it captivated the soul so that the learner or the reader, rejoicing in this delight, forgot the thought, was not enraged with the one who really had deceived[**] him, but even considered himself very indebted to him. The historical (concretely understood) inherently has various charms that the philosopher, however, if in general he wishes to be true to himself, ought to reject. The historical to him means only the historical, not this historical, and one who merely wants to satisfy the demands of imagination or curiosity turns to him in vain. If he then wants to demonstrate the relation of the idea to the historical, the historical becomes purely abstract and essentially is temporality.[†] Whether temporality means a single individual’s life or the most wonderful world-historical achievement is a matter of indifference to him. The philosopher, therefore, cannot fall into the misunderstanding, which is a result of sensate astonishment[††] and of superstition, that the idea shows itself more clearly in world history than in an individual man’s life. It is the philosopher’s passion to reject all these distinctions and above all to reject deceiving the reader by them, as if he had said something (qua philosopher) because as historian he had instructed the learner. If this is not the case, then everything is confused, and the learner is at a loss as to whether he should thank such a man or not. If the method is concrete from the very beginning, it is either because he instantaneously ventures out in the historical matter or, preoccupied [V B 14 75] with the interpretations of others, because he seeks to demonstrate the idea in them. In the first case, for example, he speaks about China. Who would not be happy to know something about China? He amazes us with his learning; one is overwhelmed by all the new things to be learned and thanks him—if one is numbered among those who previously really did not know anything in particular about the subject and among those who in their rejoicing over it forget that this subject is not at all what they were supposed to find out. Another reader, however, is by chance very familiar with the Chinese and discovers that there is an error. This is made known, and there is a controversy. One is curious, reads both sides, finds out something new—and forgets even more what it is that one really wants to find out. —In the second case he speaks about Oriental philosophy, Greek, Jewish, etc. One acquires an indescribable amount of information, but unfortunately not what one seeks and what one as philosopher should achieve. One falls into a profound dilemma: one hardly dares to confide one’s secret to anyone, for it would indeed seem as if one were ungracious toward a man who knows so much about everything. The philosopher wants to show how the god enters guidingly into the historical. Consequently he settles upon one or another world-historical decision. He intensifies the dramatic interest; the interests of countries and kingdoms, the fates of millions, are wrapped up in the conflict—and now the final judgment develops out of this: it is divine providence. Previously one was not familiar with that determination of the matter; one thanks the philosopher for the enjoyment one has had, admires his art—and forgets that this is not at all what one wishes to find out, forgets that he who can see the god’s guidance only in the world-historical decision (where it can be seen) but not in the most insignificant person’s life—that he is no philosopher, that he does not have the philosopher’s passion—he is merely superstitious. Soon everyone who knows anything or knows how to talk about it well becomes a philosopher; all unite in dragging men’s minds down into multiplicity and, thus immersed, into forgetfulness of what is the philosopher’s business and occupation, what Aristotle expresses so beautifully, that philosophy is occupied with that which is related in only one way.[*] 37 Since the method has become [V B 14 76] so concrete, no provisional reflection, of course, is necessary; one passes on at once to the main dish. At the conclusion of the system, it will be seen that the method is correct. At the end—after every means of diversion has been employed to disturb the reader and bribe the judge. Even a logical problem cannot be handled without one side of the historical concretion immediately crowding in as the long-winded report on what others have thought about it etc. An instrument of distraction, nothing but an instrument of distraction.
[*]In margin: ήν ἀεί ϰατὰ ταὐτὰ ὡσαύτως ἔχειν [always unchanged and the same] (Plato)38
—JP I 50; III 3301 (Pap. V B 14) n.d., 1844
Revision of Pap. V B 14, on separate sheets apparently deleted from final copy:
There is a phrase that, simply uttered, pierces the soul [V B 41 94] with awesome solemnity; there is a name that, simply uttered together with the phrase from which it is inseparable, makes the child of the age take off his hat and bow down, even someone who does not know the man: the absolute method and Hegel. The absolute method—this phrase is einhaltsschwer [weighty in substance], and yet it passes, as the poet says, from Munde zu Munde [mouth to mouth],39 but in every mouth it is equally weighty in substance. Nowadays the absolute method is at home not only in logic but also in the historical sciences. O worldly eminence, what a fraud you are—exclaimed the beggar who had envied that rich lord, until he discovered that His Lordship walked on crutches—just as the absolute method does. O worldly eminence, are you not worthy to aspire to—to be the absolute method, and then to have such a home as Hegel has prepared in logic,40 not to mention in the historical sciences! To have to take refuge in [V B 14 95] wordplay and witticisms and evasions, to have to help oneself along by half-untruths, to have to beg all through life merely to become the absolute, which does not begin bittweise [by request], to have to be silent about its not hanging together properly—oh, this is a high price! Cromwell the Protector in all his glory could not have been more unfortunate, more fugitive, when he vainly sought a resting place for the night. And yet Hegel was a great, an outstanding logician; this in truth no one can deny him. And yet what he had understood—if only his explanation had been limited to this—was more than adequate to assure his significance and to make the young student understand in joyful and trusting devotion that Hegel was genuinely a teacher. But the absolute method is a bad conscience in scarlet. And the absolute method was the superscription—ergo, Hegel had also accomplished this. And the logical gimcrackeries [Snurrepiberier] whereby it is supposed to be the object of pious fetish-worship—to speak ill of them was the prime philosophical high treason against Hegel. In the same way Nero was incensed at Vindex, not because he incited rebellion, not because he said he was a bad emperor, but because he said Nero was a bad zither player.
And, now, in the historical sciences! Too bad that Hegel lacked time; but if one is to dispose of all of world history, how does one get time for the little test as to whether the absolute method, which explains everything, is also able to explain the life of a single human being. In ancient times, one would have smiled at a method that can explain all of world history absolutely but cannot explain a single person even mediocrely, for in ancient days the wise man did not begin this way and did not go further in such a way that he never came to understand or he ceased to understand what the simple person understands. In ancient times, existence [Tilværelsen] was thought to be structured in such a way that anyone who understood a single human being would be in a position to explain history, if he had the requisite knowledge, because the task of reckoning remained essentially the same. Of course, in ancient days there was no wise man who [V B 41 96] had invented the absolute method. The malpractice in Hegel is easily pointed out. The absolute method explains all world history; the science that is to explain the single human being is ethics. On the one hand, this is quite neglected in Hegel, and insofar as he explains anything, it is usually in such a way that no living being can exist [existere] accordingly, and if he were to exist according to the few better things to be found there, then he would instantly explode the absolute method. Hegel can manage much better with the dead, for they are silent. Nevertheless, he had better guard himself against them, for my wish, although I do not know yet whether or not it can be fulfilled, is that Socrates—who, according to his own statement, wanted to ask the wise in the underworld whether they knew something or not—may get hold of Hegel in order to question him about the absolute method. Perhaps it will then become evident that Hegel, who became so extraordinarily absolute in this earthly life, which ordinarily is the life of relativity, would become rather relative in the absoluteness of eternal life.
The question is simplified as much as possible, and in the treatment of it we shall again strive to simplify everything as much as possible, for we do not have such magnificence to offer that we dare to count on it to make recompense for neglecting the simple duty of answering what has been asked. Yet, even if the something else that one gets instead of an answer were marvelously glorious, it would still be essentially indulgence in a dissipation, and it would be a loss to get to know something else instead of receiving an answer to the perhaps insignificant question that nevertheless had the peculiar characteristic of being what one had asked about. It is a dangerous pet idea to want to become concrete immediately in answering an abstract question,41 whether the concretion consists of a resumé of some earlier philosopher’s thought or the particularity of the historical. The concretion often has the effect of seductively depriving thought of the serenity and simplicity that are satisfied with thought itself. The mathematician is delighted with his algebra and does not wish to use dollars, marks, or shillings in order to arouse the [V B 41 97] sensate person to participation. But even though the concrete is more necessary than it is for the mathematician, one should not begin immediately by making the thought concrete but in abstracto clarify the thought one wishes later to point out in the concrete. Thus if a musician wishes to explain to someone that a lead instrument penetrates the rest of the music with its tones and is the basic constituent of the whole, he would probably first play certain passages on that instrument until the learner is familiar with it and can recognize it among a hundred others playing at the same time; only then would he have the entire orchestra play, and he would ask him to be attentive to the way the tone of that instrument is present throughout. If, on the other hand, he were to begin immediately with the music of the full orchestra, he would confuse everything for the listener. The concrete is the manifold and as such exercises an enchanting power over the soul. Suppose it happened that the thought which is to be pointed out in the concrete did not become clear but that the concrete was itself so rich, so variegated, that it captivated the soul and at times became so difficult that in itself it was work enough, so that the learner or the reader, rejoicing in the delight, weary of labor, finally forgot the thought and with unfeigned gratitude felt how much he owed to this teacher. In the beginning, the teacher had not made the thought clear in the passionless brevity of abstraction; perhaps he minimized such a method as being deficient; the thought is supposed to become clear only at the conclusion of the whole, at the conclusion, that is, after the learner has seen and heard various things, has been in various mental states, has again and again admired the teacher’s prodigious knowledge, both the profound and the foolish thoughts of the earlier philosophers. —You see, this is why we speak very abstractly. We do not have magical charms; if we do not win the reader simply by speaking honestly about the given question, we shall hardly win him by polished dishonesty that knows how to amaze at the outset.—JP II 1606 (Pap. V B 41) n.d., 1844
From draft; see 73:13-75:13:
42What has happened has happened, cannot be undone—[V B 15:1 76] only to this extent is the past changed. But this change is not a change into necessity, which would indeed be a contradiction, since what was not necessary before it became necessary (that is, everything necessary is presupposed as necessary) will never become necessary, since only that can become necessary which was necessary, but consequently was necessary before it became necessary. Therefore, the necessary cannot come into existence [blive til], for this is the same proposition that nothing by its coming into existence [Til-bliven] or in its coming into existence can become the necessary.
What has happened has happened as it has happened, but could it therefore not have happened otherwise?
In what sense is there change in that which comes into existence; that is, what is the nature of the change of coming into existence; for all other change presupposes the existence [V B 15 1 77] [at det . . . er til] of that which changes, even when the change consists in ceasing to exist [at være til]. That which comes into existence [det Tilblivende] certainly does not do this by becoming greater or lesser or, if it consists of parts, by way of some change taking place in these, in their relationship, and thereby in the whole, etc.; for if the subject of coming into existence does not itself remain unchanged in the change of coming into existence, it is not this subject of coming into existence that comes into existence but something else, whereby the question is only postponed and is not answered. The subject of coming into existence remains unchanged, therefore, or only suffers or takes upon itself the change of coming into existence, but what is this [change]? Thus, if my plan, for example, is changed in coming into existence, it is then no longer my plan, and it is another plan that comes into existence, but if it comes into existence unchanged, then it is my plan that comes into existence; this constitutes the unchanged, but coming into existence is indeed a change. This change is from not being to being [ikke at være til at være]. But this non-being from which it is changed must also be a kind of being [en Art af Væren], because otherwise we could not say that the subject of coming into existence remains unchanged in coming into existence. But such a being that is nevertheless a non-being we certainly could call possibility, and the being into which the subject of coming into existence goes by coming into existence is actuality [Virke-lighed]. Therefore the change of coming into existence is the change of actuality. In coming into existence, the possible becomes the actual. But could it not also become the necessary? Not at all, and therefore we still maintain that coming into existence is a change, but the necessary cannot be changed, it is always related to itself in the same way. Therefore everything that can come into existence shows in this very way that it is not the necessary. The necessary[*] is by no means a change in being, as is actuality in relation to possibility, where the essence continues essentially unchanged. But if the possible in becoming the actual did become the necessary, its essence would become changed, and thus one can understand that it cannot become the necessary, for if it became [V B 15.1 78] the necessary, it would no longer be itself. The necessary is therefore not a qualification of being, and one says, even though one expresses oneself somewhat differently, one says not that it is necessary but that the necessary is; one does not say that because it is, it is the necessary, but that since it is necessary, therefore it is.[**]
—JP I 262 (Pap. V B 15:1) n.d., 1844
This could be explained only in such a way that freedom is an illusion and that it was necessary before it came into existence in freedom, that is, it did not come into existence at all.
In margin: in such a way that freedom was construed as the putative father of what necessity acknowledged as its own.
—Pap. V B 15:6 n.d., 1844
In margin of draft; see 79:20:
. . . . . for when in the next moment the manifestation is displaced—or the manifestation itself is regarded as occurring by necessity, then one is still constructing. . . . .—Pap. V B 15:7 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 80:3-4:
But apprehension is not able to do it either; nam sicut scien-tia prcesentium nihil his quce fiunt, ita prcescientia futurorum nihil his, quæ ventura sunt, necessitatis importat [for just as knowledge of the present does not impart necessity to the present, so foreknowledge of the future imparts no necessity to that which will happen] (Boethius, Liber V44).—Pap. V B 15:8 n.d., 1844
In margin of draft; see 80:31-81:2:
The word “method” already expresses the teleological—at every moment there must be a pausing.—Pap. V B 15:9 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 83:15 and footnote:
Plato45 and Aristotle46 acknowledge the same—that sense perception and cognition cannot deceive. Later Descartes (errores non tam illos ah intellectu quam a voluntate pendere—longe aliud est velle falli quam velle assentiri iis, in quibus contingit errorem reperiri [errors do not depend so much on intellect as on will . . . there is a great difference between choosing to go wrong, and choosing to assent to something that in fact involves error]. Principia philosophiae, Pars prima, XXXI, XLII,47 and many other places).
In margin: (in belief, therefore, lies the annulled possibility that it could have been deceived).—Pap. V B 15:11 n.d., 1844
From final copy, an unpublished addition; see 83:1 (note):
[Plato and Aristotle.*] *(The error does not lie in cognition or in sensation: ηὕρηϰας δὴ ψευδη̃ δόξαν, ὅτι οὔτε έν ταίς αἰσθήσεσίν ἐστι πρὸς ἀλλήλας οὔτε ἐν ταΐς δι-ανοίαις, ἀλλ' ἐν τη̃ συνάψει αίσθήσεως πρὸς διάνοιαν [You have made a discovery—that false judgment resides, not in our perceptions, among themselves, nor yet in our thoughts, but in the fitting together of perception and thought]. Theaetetus.48)—The ideas are the results of the impressions that similar things have made upon men, but the true and the false appear only when men link such ideas with the concept of being and non-being. (Aristotle, Poul Møller.49)—Pap. V B 40:14 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 84:4-20:
Here again no cognition is sufficient by virtue of inference, for cognitive inferences are an enchainement [linking together] (Leibniz50). The moment belief draws a conclusion from what is present to becoming, this is no cognitive inference but is a decision—an inference from effect to cause (Leibniz51), all cognitive inferences are from cause to effect.
In margin: and I cannot immediately sense or perceive that what I immediately sense or perceive is an effect, because immediately it simply is.—Pap. V B 15:12 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 84:35-85:5:
Belief concludes that he has come into existence and wills to hold fast to this certitude through the uncertainty of doubt.—Pap. V B 15:13 n.d., 1844
Chapter VII
The Follower at Second Hand
—Pap. V B 6:18 n.d., 1844
Deleted from draft; see 90:9-21:
The follower at second hand is indeed a noncontemporary, and this all the subsequent generations have in common over against a contemporary—that they are not contemporary.
In margin: You did not answer my question but elicited a new one.—JP I 690 (Pap. V B 18) n.d., 1844
From draft; see 91:30-92:8:
It will be deranging if someone has it lodged in his mind that it is easier to be a contemporary.
In both cases a balance sheet is to be drawn up. The various difficulties and advantages.—Pap. V B 6:19 n.d., 1844
From draft; see 94:13-96:10:
If this [latest generation] is a long way from the jolt, then it does, however, have the consequences to hold on to, the consequences with which that fact has gradually embraced everything. It should guard itself well against the consequences, for they are just as doubtful an advantage as is immediate certainty; and the person who takes the consequences immediately is deceived, just like the person who took immediate certainty to be the object of faith; the advantage seems to be that that fact must have been gradually naturalized. If this is the case, then the later generation even has a clear advantage over the contemporary generation. Unfortunately, this is unthinkable, even though someone or other might consider it to be profound speculation and think it possible to speculate himself to that fact in this way.
—Pap. V B 19 n.d., 1844
From the consciousness of sin emerges faith in the Incarnation, just as from the immediate consciousness [emerges] belief in a god.—Pap. V B 6:15 n.d., 1844
Deleted from draft; see 95:18-96:16:
. . . . . that fact has been gradually naturalized. —It certainly can become a person’s second nature, but in that case this person has had a first nature—but no one is born with his second nature without having had a first nature; neither is he born with both at the same time. . . . .—Pap. V B 17:2 n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 99:16-100:16:
. . . . . it would be an absurdity [Absurditet] if a period of time should determine the absolute relation to the absolute, and that fact manifests itself as absolute precisely by its not being dependent on time, even though it is historical. (Yet this is not understood retroactively with regard to their existence before that fact. Pagans before Christianity.)—Pap. V B 6:16 n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 100:2:
It is not the case that the status of a contemporary is status absolutus52 and the status of one who comes later is status constructs, but that the status of faith is status absolutus for both the contemporary and the one who comes later.—Pap. V B 6:22 n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 100:17-102:16:
Between one human being and another, the Socratic is and remains the one and only true relation; if understood otherwise, the apostle, if he is the one who gives the believer the condition, will himself be the god, and faith will be in the apostle as in the god.—Pap. V B 6:10 n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 100:17-102:16:
The god must also give the condition—therefore he is the god—if the apostle could also give me the condition, he would be the god—but he is only a human being over against another human being and himself can never want anything else if he has understood himself at all. . . . .—Pap. V B 6:12 n.d., 1844
Deleted from final draft; see 100:34:
Here the question itself already seems to be a question of misunderstanding, but it also seems that the difficulty is not thereby removed, since the difficulty (see the above) becomes one of perceiving, despite all the difficulties, the illegitimacy of the question.—Pap. V B 22 n.d., 1844
From final draft; see 101:35-102:11:
Socrates knew this, and frequently it certainly does take Socratic boldness to see it again, as it took boldness to see it then, as it took boldness to understand then that Alcibiades did not owe Socrates more than Socrates owed him, something that in its presently adopted formulation is easier to grasp—that one human being, insofar as he is a believer, does not owe another human being anything, but both before the god owe him everything.—Pap. V B 23:1 n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 102:2-16:
Is this at all conceivable? For the single individual does relate himself absolutely to the absolute teacher—that is, to the god—and all faith, as we said before, is indeed autopsy.
—Pap. V B 6:17 n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 102:36-104:17:
. . . . . for the one who comes later, the contemporary’s report becomes an occasion—this again is why it is foolish to waste time on the scrupulous harmonization of historical details, as if thereby to capture it—or on the trustworthiness etc. of those contemporary witnesses, for in relation to this fact every follower is only a witness, but the latest one is just as good as the first.
the one who comes later believes through the contemporary, but not in him, stands in just as free a relation to the god as the contemporary does.—Pap. V B 6:14 n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 105:5-9:
. . . . . therefore we may even say of the contemporary that it is to his good and advantage that the god goes away and departs from him.53—Pap. V B 6:13 n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 106:7-12:
(a) The follower at second hand is not tempted to run around constantly looking to see if there is anything to discover with the physical eye, all of which is wasted effort—indeed, a very lamentable chore until one is weaned from it.—Pap. V B 6:21 n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 108:20-30, also 32:33-33:36:
(b) If he then refuses to be content with contempt and lowly poverty in the world, the god asks him just as he asked the one with whom he lived (see Chapter II, end): Whom do you love—the Almighty who is supposed to do the miracle on your behalf or the one who on your behalf abased himself?—Pap. V B 6:20 n.d., 1844
Nor will I conceal from you any longer that I intend to name the child by its right name and give the question its historical costume.—Pap. V B 20 n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 109:5-9:
The Apologetical Presuppositions of Dogmatics or Thought-Approximations to Faith54
—Pap. V B 7 n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 109:5-9:
The Apologetical Presuppositions of Christian Dogmatics.
or
Approximations to Faith.55
Para. 1
An Expression of Gratitude to Lessing.56
—Pap. V B 8 n.d., 1844
From sketch; addition to Pap. V B 8:
Feuerbach’s indirect service to Christianity as an offended individuality.57 The illusion it takes in our age to become offended, since Christianity has been made as mild as possible, as meaningless as the scrawl a physician makes at the top of a prescription. —The formulation is absolutely correct according to the Hegelian maundering mediation endeavor.—Pap. V B 9 n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 109:5-9:
The Modern Position.
The confusion of incessantly mistaking the conflict.
There is contention about the Bible; it is attacked and defended. But this is only an illusion, for once the whole Bible has been defended, everything may have been lost, and once it has been lost, everything may have been won.58
The apostolic symbol—the sacraments.59
Feuerbach nevertheless is consistent and illuminates by his contrast.60
This does not mean, however, that one has to go through that Fire Brook61 (see Anekdota by Ruge,62 an article written by him).—Pap. V B 1:10 n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 109:5-9:
The apologetical questions about the Bible and the Church end up as one. It is not denied that the Church exists, but its claim to have existed—indeed, to be apostolic—is certainly a historical question.63—Pap. V B 1:5 n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 109:5-9:
For a long time now rigid, to-the-letter orthodoxy has reverted to being a counterpart to Don Quixote, whose various ridiculous hairsplitting sophistries will provide excellent analogies.64—JP III 3047 (Pap. V B 1:6) n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 109:5-9:
A whole theory of the Church instead of a theory of the Bible65 has something deceptive about it, because the latter is not customarily used in the attacks. Otherwise they come to the same thing.* —An introductory science must be developed etc.66—Pap. V B 1:7 n.d., 1844
From sketch; addition to Pap. V B 1:7:
*The difficulty with the Church theory67 (Grundtvig) is not that it claims that it exists, for here it is right in saying that this is not to be demonstrated (for existence is never demonstrated); but when it says it is apostolic, it is stating not merely a conceptual definition but something historical, which must be demonstrated. A person standing right in front of me is certainly correct in not needing to demonstrate that he exists; but if he says that four hundred years ago he was king—well, that requires demonstration. —And as soon as the issue is posed in this way, the objections raised are the same as those raised against the Bible.
—Pap. V B 1:9 n.d., 1844
From sketch; see 109:5-9:
The same is true of the sacraments.68 The sacrament itself is a presence, and the presence is not denied, but when the sacrament is supposed to have been instituted by Christ—in short, all the historical—then there must be proofs—Pap. V B 1:8 n.d., 1844
From final draft; see 111:2-15:
If such is not the case with what has been developed, then we remain with the Socratic, and it is foolish to give it another name, and it is always better to remain with Socrates than to venture out into something that is supposed to be this something else but still is not what we have propounded.—Pap. V B 23:6 n.d., 1844
From draft of Postscript:
“. . . . . for when the child is to be weaned, the mother blackens her breast,”69 and an ethical individual, of course, is not supposed to be a child any longer. Similarly, to recall Fragments, if the god wants to reveal himself in human form and is in the least conspicuous,70 he deceives, and the relationship does not become one of inwardness, which is truth. But if he looks just like this individual human being, just exactly like any other human being, then he deceives only those who think that getting to see the god has something in common with going to Tivoli.71
—Pap. VI B 40:38 n.d., 1845
The review of my Fragments in the German journal72 is essentially wrong in making the content appear didactic, expository, instead of being imaginatively constructing [exper-imenterende]73 by virtue of its polar form, which is the very basis of the elasticity of irony. To make Christianity seem to be an invention of Johannes Climacus is a biting satire on philosophy’s insolent attitude toward it. And then, too, to bring out the orthodox forms in the imaginary construction “so that our age, which only mediates etc., is scarcely able to recognize them”* and believes it is something new—that is irony. But right there is the earnestness, to want Christianity to be given its due in this way—before one mediates.
In margin: *(These are the reviewer’s words.)—JP V 5827 (Pap. VI A 84) n.d., 1845
From draft of Postscript:
The review in the German Repertorium74 (the concluding remark [whether the author in this apologetic dialectic is ironical or in earnest] in the review is silly; if Fragments had been pure and simple earnestness, it would have been correct, but there is indeed irony in the book—but that does not mean that the book is irony).—Pap. VI B 51 n.d., 1845
From draft of Postscript:
The pamphlet (Fragments) was not didactic, nor is what is written here. This is no lecture about Christianity as the truth; I am merely seeking to find a decisive expression for essential Christianity—which certainly can have its significance, inasmuch as in the midst of Christendom we seem to have forgotten what Christianity is.
—Pap, VI B 54:31 n.d., 1845
(1) Logical Issues75
by
Johannes Climacus.
First a preface about Philosophical Fragments.
(2) Something about the Art of Religious Address76 with some Reference to Aristotle’s Rhetoric
by
Johannes de Silentio.77
With the motto from Aristotle’s Rhetoric, II, chapter 23 (in the little translation, p. 197),78 about a priestess who forbade her son to become a public speaker.
(3) God’s Judgment79
A Story of Suffering
Imaginary Psychological Construction80
(4) Writing Sampler81
Apprentice Test Piece
by
A. W. A. H.
Rosenblad Apprentice Author
—JP V 5786 (Pap. VI A 146) n.d., 1845
From draft of Postscript:
In relation to the absurd, objective approximation is non-sense; [VI B 42 139] since objective knowledge, in grasping the absurd, has literally gone bankrupt down to its last shilling.
In this case, the way of approximation would be to interrogate witnesses who have seen the god and have either believed the absurd themselves or have not believed it; in the one case I gain nothing, and in the other I lose nothing—to interrogate witnesses who have seen the god perform a miracle, which for one thing cannot be seen, and if they have believed it, well, it is one further consequence of the absurd. —But I do not need to develop this further here; I have done that in Fragments. Here we have the same problem Socrates had—to prevent oneself from getting into objective approximation. It is simply a matter of setting aside introductory observations, and reliabilities, and demonstrations based on effects, and pawnbrokers, and all such in order not to be prevented from making the absurd clear—so that one can believe if one will.
If a speculator would like to give a guest performance here and say: From an eternal and divine point of view there is no paradox here—this is quite right. But whether or not the speculator is the eternal one who sees the eternal—this is something else again. If he then continues his talking, which does have the eternal in the sense that, like the song, it lasts for an eternity,82 he must be referred to Socrates, for he has not even comprehended the Socratic and even less found time to comprehend, from that standpoint, something that goes beyond it.—JP II 2287 (Pap. VI B 42) n.d., 1845
From draft of Postscript: see 87:18-19:
The forgiveness of sin is indeed a paradox inasmuch as the [VI B 45 140] eternal truth relates itself to an existing person; it is a paradox insofar as the eternal relates itself to the person botched [VI B 45 141] up in time and by time and who nevertheless is an existing person (because under the qualification of sin existence is registered and accentuated a second time). But forgiveness of sin is really a paradox only when it is linked to the appearance of the god, to the fact that the god has existed [existeret]. For the paradox always arises by the joining of existing and the eternal truth, but the more often this occurs, the more paradoxical it is.*
*Note: A reference to Fragments, in which I said that I do not believe that God exists [er til (eternally) is] but know it; whereas I believe that God has existed [har været til (the his-torical)].83 At that time, I simply put the two formulations together and in order to make the contrast clear did not emphasize that even from the Greek point of view the eternal truth, by being for an existing person, becomes an object of faith and a paradox. But it by no means follows that this faith is the Christian faith as I have now presented it.—-JP III 3085 (Pap. VI B 45) n.d., 1845
[VII1 A 158 103] A Note for “The book on Adler” that was not used.
I see that Johannes Climacus was reviewed in one of the issues of Scharling and Engelstoft’s Tidsskrift.84 It is one of the usual two-bit reviews, written in “very fine language” with periods and commas in the right places. A theological student or graduate who otherwise is thoroughly incompetent in discussion nevertheless copies the table of contents and then adds his criticism, which is something like this: J. C. is certainly justified in the way in which he emphasizes the dialectical, but (yes, now comes the wisdom) on the other hand one must not forget mediation. Historically, J. C. comes after Hegelianism. J. C. without a doubt knows just as much about mediation as such a theological graduate. In order, if possible, to get out of the spell of mediation, constantly battling against it, J. C. decisively brought the problem to its logical conclusion through the vigor of a qualitative dialectic (something no theological student or graduate or two-bit reviewer can do), and then the book is reviewed in this way—that is, with the help of a bungling laudatory review the book is ruined, annulled, cashiered. And the reviewer even becomes important to himself: for the reviewer to stand loftily over the author in this way looks almost like superiority—with the help of a wretched stock phrase. The reviewer is so insignificant that he would scarcely be able to write a [VII1 A 158 104] review if the book were taken away from him, for he copies with a suspicious anxiety, and a reviewer like that becomes so self-important at the end. The way an author must work is to use his time and energy strenuously concentrating upon bringing the problem to its logical conclusion, and then along comes a laudatory review and assists in making the issue and the book into the same old hash. And the author is not read, but the reviewer calls attention to himself; the review is read, and the reader must involuntarily believe the review because it is laudatory—the review which by way of praise has annihilated the book. Mundus vult decipi [The world wants to be deceived]. But this comes about because to be a genuine author means a sacrificed life and because an intermediate staff of fiddlers has been formed (two-bit reviewers), whose trade flourishes. And since we are accustomed to the coarsest, most boorish guttersnipe tone in the papers, a reviewer presumably thinks that when, as a bonus, he is so nice as to praise the book—he has a right to reduce it to rubbish. Johannes Climacus most likely would say: No, thank you, may I request to be abused instead; being abused does not essentially harm the book, but to be praised in this way is to be annihilated, insofar as this is possible for the reviewer, the nice, good-natured, but somewhat stupid reviewer. An author who really understands himself is better served by not being read at all, or by having five genuine readers, than by having this confusion about mediation spread abroad with the help of a good-natured reviewer, spread with the help of his own book, which was written specifically to battle against mediation. But the concept of author in our day has been distorted in an extremely immoral way.—JP V 5944 (Pap. VII1 A 158) n.d., 1846
From final copy of Adler; same as Pap. VII1 A 158 with the following addition:
[VII2 B 235 83] Since so many people who are totally unqualified to be authors (no essential idea to communicate, no essential mission, no ethically conscious responsibility) nevertheless become authors, being an author becomes for men a kind of distinction similar to women’s adorning themselves: the primary point and the purpose for writing are to become noticed, recognized, praised. A showy, flashy author of this sort has nothing to tell the reader; just like someone taking a graduate examination, he is writing in order to enjoy the social status of taking an examination or of being an author; he is writing to show that he is an expert in beautiful penmanship. It is no trick, of course, for almost anyone to form an estimate of him, for despite being an author he stands utterly au niveau [on the level] with the majority. The lie consists in this, that such a scribbler and candidate up for examination is called an author, but as a result of this lie, people are pampered into regarding an author as someone who writes in order to be recognized, or presumably even to be recognized with praise. Is it not conceivable that an author would write in order that the truth he has to communicate may be understood? If so, he in no way benefits by being recognized—even with praise—by someone who misunderstands him. Not so with the examinee; he has nothing to communicate. If he in fact detects that the examiner does not understand him at all but nevertheless says prae caeteris [praiseworthy above others], the examinee is deliriously [VII2 B 235 84] happy, and one can hardly blame him for that. However, it is really odd that to be an author should be anything like that, and even more odd that the examiner in relation to the author is not a professor but some literary bungler in a newspaper. If it were conceivable that one could become an author without writing, could purchase this dignity just as one buys a title, yet, please note, actually enjoying a bit of a reputation—then a great many of the authors of our generation would perhaps stop writing. And if one could, without doing any writing, earn the money one earns by writing, then many other contemporary authors would undoubtedly refrain from writing, and we would see how many genuine authors we do have.—Pap. VII2 B 235 n.d., 1846-47
From final copy of Adler:
Note. With regard to all the dialectical problems relevant to this (the paradox, the moment, the dialectic of contemporaneity, etc.), I must refer to a pseudonym, Johannes Climacus, to his two books, Philosophical Fragments and Concluding Postscript to Philosophical Fragments. For something so dialectically composed, it is impossible to give a brief resumé; if the report is to be reliable, it will end up being just as detailed and difficult as the original exposition, for if just one least little middle term is left out, the whole dialectic suffers. Whether what is said of living organisms is completely true—namely, that when one limb suffers, the whole body suffers—I do not know; but I do know that this is exactly the way it is with the dialectical.—Pap. VII2 B 235, p. 76 n.d., 1846-47
From final copy of Adler:
Note. This dialectic of contemporaneity is set forth in Fragments—namely, that an immediate contemporary is not actually a contemporary, and that for this very reason someone who lives 1,800 years later may just as well be able to be a contemporary.85—Pap. VII2 B 235, p. 84 n.d., 1846-47
From final copy of Adler:
But primarily the four books86 must objectively have a deeper purpose—for example, if possible, maieutically to cover a specific terrain on all sides at the same time. It must then be important to the author of the four books—for him a half-poetic artistic task—that each book, which essentially in itself is different from the others, be kept characteristically distinct from the others. The author must poetically know how to support the illusion, which consists essentially in the special point of departure in the particular book. By way of the announcement, he himself must see to splitting them up, so that the impact of the four books at the same time actually is a product of the reader’s self-activity. Above all, no one is obliged to know that there are four books at the same time. Therefore, the art connoisseur, if he discovers in a roundabout way that there is one author, still can have a certain enjoyment in entering into the illusion that there are not four books by one author but by four authors. Thus, even in the Advertiser, the one and same author does not introduce and offer himself as the author of four books at one and the same time.—Pap. VII2 B 235, p. 129 n.d., 1846-47
Prof. Martensen’s Status
It is now roughly ten years since Prof. Martensen returned home from foreign travels, bringing with him the newest German philosophy87 and creating quite a sensation with this novelty—he actually has always been more of a reporter and correspondent than a primitive thinker.
It was the philosophy of points of view—the demoralizing aspect of that kind of survey—that fascinated young people and opened the prospect of swallowing up everything in half a year.
He makes quite a splash, and in the meantime young students use the opportunity to inform the public in print that with Martensen begins a new era, epoch, epoch and era, etc. (Note: See the Preface to Philosophical Fragments.88) The demoralizing aspect in allowing young people to do this, thereby turning all relationships around. . . . —Pap. X2 A 155, p. 117 n.d., 1849
Here is an error in Julius Müller.89 He is right in maintaining that sin and every manifestation of freedom (the younger Fichte has already repeatedly stressed this90) cannot be [deduced] with necessity (no, neither before nor afterward; see Philosophical Fragments91) but must be experienced.
Fine, now he should have swung directly into the ethical-religious, into the existential, to the You and I. Earnestness is that I myself become conscious of being a sinner and apply everything in this respect to myself. But, instead of that, he goes into the ordinary problems about the universality of sin etc. But if it is to be experienced, then either I must know all—and in that case, since the world goes on, the whole thing becomes a hypothesis, which perhaps held water until now but does not for that reason hold water (as, I see, Prof. Levy writes in an article about the maternity hospital92)—or else I must understand what Johannes Climacus has developed in Concluding Postscript, that with regard to actuality every individual is essentially assigned only to himself; he can understand every other individual only in possibility.93
—JP IV 4037 (Pap. X2 A 482) n.d., 1850
[*] In pencil at bottom of page: thinks he detects a mistake about which no one is concerned.
[**] In pencil at bottom of page: fearful presentiments.
[†] In pencil at bottom of page: here the difficulty of giving summaries of Plato, Aristotle manifests itself when one does not understand them.
[*] In pencil: the many.
[*] In margin: this term is einhaltsschwer [weighty in substance], and yet it passes with singular ease, as the poet says: von Munde zu Munde [from mouth to mouth],34
[**] In margin: has he not prepared sheer hell for it in logic.
[*] Penciled in margin: Luke 13:26
[**] In margin: (to be developed in sketch)
In margin: *Thus he has to say: I do not know you
[†] Luke 13:26 is the reply; he becomes aware that once again I have interpolated one word.—Pap. V B 12:7 n.d., 1844
[*] philosophic high treason.
[**] In margin: Consistent in existence
Interesting in history
[*] In margin: which in the beginning was not clarified for him in the conciseness and unconcern of abstraction but which was supposed to become clear for the first time in the conclusion—that is, after having seen and understood the most diverse things, which are precisely the things that can distract the thought.
[**] In margin: had intruded upon him even more than by speaking to him about the highest and the holiest, which requires stillness of soul above all, in Dyrehaugsbakken [amusement park].
[†] At bottom of page: (as if a person wanted to show him how one instrument by its entry into the totality first produced the wholeness—and yet would not first perform the passage of that particular instrument for him but began immediately with the whole orchestra).
[††] In margin: delusions of fantasy, the indefinable frauds of indefinite feelings.
[*] Obliquely in margin: Necessity is the unity of possibility and actuality.43
[**] In margin: Nothing whatever comes into existence by necessity, and if, for example, the world had come into existence by necessity, it would never have come into existence. (This has significance for creation—repentance in ethics.)