Dimensions of socio-existential authenticity
In the previous chapter, it was argued that Taylor’s account could be understood as a continuation of the existentialist concept of authenticity, rather than at odds with it. In this chapter, our aim will be to continue this line of thought and construct a socio-existential account of authenticity, by which we mean that we will incorporate aspects from both the social and existential approaches to authenticity. In light of living within a post-metaphysical culture – that human beings lack a predetermined essence – we will draw upon the existential approach, advocating that our authentic self is created by choice, rather than discovered through introspection. However, due to the criticisms aimed against the existential approach – that it is ethically unsound – we will also incorporate aspects of the social account, which insists authenticity ought to be socially grounded. The purpose of devising a socio-existential approach will be to build upon the existing literature in order to address the modern problems of freedom and meaning. That is, our aim will be to demonstrate how authenticity can provide an ethic by which to orientate one’s actions and grant meaning to an absurd existence. Rather than providing a survey of every approach which exists, the aim here will be to construct an account through engagement with existing literature. This chapter will be structured in a dialectical fashion, and our concept of socio-existential authenticity will be shown to be constructed of several dimensions which necessarily arise in response to the problems encountered within the previous dimension.
We will begin by asking what it is precisely that determines our authentic self (Section 3.1). Here it will be claimed that since there is no underlying essence we begin with the dimension of choice. However, since free choice can be said to undermine meaningfulness it will be further argued that we can avoid this problem through the dimension of commitment. We will then consider how it is possible to ensure our ideal of an authentic existence is achievable (Section 3.2). Namely, we will demonstrate that it is possible to avoid the pursuit of an inauthentic existence, or one which we cannot actualize, through the dimension of maturity. In the third section, we will consider the problem as to where our choices are derived from (Section 3.3). Here it will be claimed that groundless choice of a particular project can be avoided through the dimension of becoming what one is. In the fourth section, the problem as to that which validates our choices will be addressed (Section 3.4). We will here demonstrate that our choices can be given ethical validity through the dimension of intersubjective consciousness and that we can understand our limitations of choice through the dimension of heritage. In the final section, we will offer a preliminary account of how our socio-existential approach to authenticity is able to address the problems of freedom and meaning (Section 3.5). More specifically, it will be claimed that by living in accordance with the six dimensions (choice, commitment, maturity, becoming what one is, intersubjective consciousness and heritage) that one can avoid the restriction of freedom and live a meaningful existence.
3.1 What determines our sense of authenticity?
The primary dimension of our account, and starting point of this chapter, is existential choice. This notion is perhaps best expressed by Jean-Paul Sartre who argues that as a consequence of ‘the human condition’, humans possess absolute freedom. The key to understanding Sartre’s concept of authenticity lies within his famous maxim, ‘existence precedes essence’ (2007: 22). What this existential axiom suggests is that contrary to theistic accounts, which advocate that human beings were designed by a divine creator to fulfil a particular end, there is no determined end to human existence. In this sense, it is also opposed to an Aristotelian approach, which advocates that human beings possess a fixed essence.1 In order to explicate, Sartre offers the example of a paper knife which was designed with the specific function to open letters, noting that it is precisely this purpose which defines it (2007: 20–1). However, he claims that, unlike commodities, human beings do not possess a natural teleology, or purpose for which they were designed to achieve.
In Sartre’s account, rather, one is nothing other than that which one makes oneself. That is, rather than possessing a fixed essence, one exists first and then defines oneself within existence. Although Sartre denies there is such a thing as human nature, he suggests there is a human condition of absolute freedom. This, however, is perceived negatively by Sartre who claims, ‘man is condemned to be free’ (2013: 439; 2007: 23). What this suggests is that freedom is something which one is forced to endure – a situation which we are thrown into. A consequence of this undesired freedom is that one often conceals this fact, deceiving oneself and instead existing in bad faith. As discussed in Section 2.4, Sartre explicates this state of existence through the example of the waiter who wholeheartedly associates himself with his role, believing this is something he is essentially.
However, since each individual is required to determine being-for-itself, we do not possess a predetermined essence, but must choose this for ourselves. To recap on our discussion in the previous chapter, there is no essential thing which humans are, rather, they are free to choose their essence. In the former, a thing’s essence is immanent, whereas humans possess transcendent possibilities, to become other than what they are. To exist in bad faith, therefore, is to attribute oneself a fixed essence and deny one’s capacity for transcendence. In the example of the waiter, he lives in bad faith because he conceals his transcendent possibilities. Thus, by understanding his being as in-itself, insofar as he believes that he is essentially a waiter – the waiter allows his social role to define him. The reason why one chooses to live in bad faith, according to Sartre , is because one experiences anxiety in confronting one’s boundless freedom.2 However, Sartre notes that anxiety ought to be understood as a positive state, insofar as the nothingness which one confronts offers awareness of one’s possibilities which are yet to be actualized.
A further negative consequence of being-for-itself is that there is nothing outside of oneself which can be appealed to in order to inform one’s actions. Sartre offers the example of his student who approaches him with the dilemma as to whether to join the resistance or stay with his mother, who has already lost her husband and two sons (2007: 30). In making such a decision, Sartre emphasizes that there is no code of ethics which one can appeal to; instead, one is responsible for one’s choice. One cannot even depend on another person, for in choosing one’s adviser one has already committed to a particular approach, which one hopes to elicit and have confirmed by one’s interlocutor. As a result of the human condition, one must decide for oneself what one is to become. Thus, not only are humans completely free but also are completely responsible. That is, rather than possessing a fixed essence, it is up to each individual to determine their essence for themselves. By ‘essence’ Sartre does not mean that there is something which individuals naturally are, but instead suggests that this is determined by the projects one pursues. As Sartre himself concisely puts it, ‘man is nothing other than his own project. He exists only to the extent that he realizes himself, therefore he is nothing more than the sum of his actions, nothing more than his life’ (2007: 37).
This dimension of authenticity, that one’s project ought to be freely chosen, can be aptly illustrated through Leo Tolstoy’s novella The Death of Ivan Illych (2006). This short story depicts the life and demise of a high court judge, who, upon confronting his temporarlity, begins to resent his life. He recalls how he made friends according to their social standing, married because he was encouraged to do so by his peers and furnished his house, not according to his taste, but to reflect his status. It is only when he discovers that he is terminally ill that Ivan comes to recognize the inauthenticity of his existence. Although his lifestyle may seem desirable because it illustrates the ideal of social success, he acknowledges that he himself did not choose this life, but that it was the consequence of external forces. His profession, for example, was not the result of hard work and determination, but was obtained through his connections. Moreover, even if one has lived a fulfilled life, unless one has chosen one’s life for oneself then it cannot be said to be an authentic existence. As Kierkegaard wonderfully puts it, ‘the richest personality is nothing before it has chosen itself, as on the other hand even what one might call the poorest personality is everything when it has chosen itself; for the great thing is not to be this or that but to be oneself, and this everyone can be if one wills it’ (1987: 181).
What can be derived from Sartre’s account is that authentic choice requires freedom to choose one’s project. However, one’s choice is partially determined by other people. Through anticipation of judgement, one’s decision is informed by guilt, shame or fear, induced by how we imagine others to perceive us. It is for this reason Sartre claims that ‘hell is other people’ and stresses that one must embrace the human condition which presents the possibility to change one’s character and choose for oneself (1989: 45).3 It is one’s choice of project that then gives meaning to all of one’s subsequent actions and desires. That is, one’s decisions and how one perceives objects and one’s situation are shaped by and orientated towards one’s fundamental project. As Sartre explains, ‘[it is] this projection of myself toward an original possibility, which causes the existence of values, appeals, expectations, and in general a world’ (2013: 63). Thus, one’s choice precedes the reasons for pursuing that project which determines one’s character and gives meaning to one’s life. In his own words, ‘what we usually understand by “will” is a conscious decision that most of us take only after we have made ourselves what we are’ (2007: 23). One consequence of Sartre’s theory of freedom is that one is able to freely change the project which shapes one’s behaviour.
Maurice Merleau-Ponty takes issue with this consequence of Sartre’s theory of freedom and the dimension of choice itself.4 The reason is because the act of rejecting one’s project and engaging in a new project for no reason at all undermines the very concept of projects themselves. For if one can willingly change projects then it makes no sense to talk of undertaking or maintaining a project, since one cannot be committed to anything. In Merleau-Ponty’s account, on the other hand, ‘we must recognize a sort of sedimentation of our life: when an attitude toward the world has been confirmed often enough, it becomes privileged for us’ (2012: 467). Contrary to Sartre, the notion which Merleau-Ponty advocates is that one’s freedom is restricted to one’s physical abilities and social context. Thus, rather than possessing absolute freedom of mind, one is only free to the extent that one’s society and biology permit. These then constitute a ‘field of freedom’, which determines one’s range of possibilities and the degree to which each possibility can be actualized (2012: 481). One’s ability to form a project for Merleau-Ponty is restricted by one’s material and social environment, and the degree to which these enable one to realize one’s project. Thus, not only is Merleau-Ponty’s account contrary to that of Sartre but also has profound implications for his notion of undertaking or maintaining a project. However, one need not necessarily accept Merleau-Ponty’s notion of freedom in order to preserve a consistent theory of projects.
In order to remedy this oversight, and patch a hole in Sartre’s argument, Simone de Beauvoir borrows the idea of ‘sedimentation’ from Merleau-Ponty.5 However, rather than accepting Merleau-Ponty’s perspective of freedom – that one does not possess absolute autonomy of mind, but that one’s ability to act is determined by one’s material and social situation – Beauvoir adapts the idea of sedimentation to Sartre’s notion of freedom. She suggests that one’s project becomes ‘sedimented’ over time – namely, the longer one engages in a project the more closely it becomes associated with one’s person, and the more difficult it is to reject. The reason why it is important for Beauvoir to maintain this theory of freedom is because it emphasizes a notion of responsibility which Merleau-Ponty’s theory lacks. In responding to this criticism of Sartre’s radical freedom, Beauvoir maintains the claim that authenticity requires freedom to choose one’s project. In her own words, ‘I am free, as my projects are not defined by pre-existing interests’ (2004a: 212). What Beauvoir proposes is that through commitment to a particular project that project becomes indicative of who one is as an individual. That is, the longer one pursues a particular project, the more ingrained it becomes in one’s consciousness, determining one’s secondary decisions and choices.
Thus, a fundamental feature of the concept of authenticity, thus far construed, is that a project is made meaningful by commitment to one’s ideal. This commitment to one’s project, as constitutive of one’s identity, can be elucidated through Beauvoir’s metaphysical novel, She Came to Stay. Her story depicts the unconventional relationship between Françoise and Pierre, who, despite their fondness for one another, agree to an arrangement which permits the other to pursue additional romantic interests.6 However, despite both agreeing to these terms, Françoise begins to experience anxiety at the prospect of Pierre’s intimacy with Xavière. One’s initial reaction to her behaviour might be to suggest that Françoise is emotionally incapable of seeing her partner with another woman. However, this is not the first time Pierre has exercised the conditions of their agreement, and Françoise herself admits to being attracted to Xavière. An alternative interpretation, which explains the reason for her reaction, is that Françoise and Pierre share a common project and set of values that Xavière undermines.
Although Françoise and Pierre believed they had obtained freedom from convention, Xavière claims that their lives are no different to the tediously regimented lives, which they believed they had escaped (2006). However, it is not simply Xavière’s critique of their shared project, but Pierre’s favourable reception to it which causes Françoise’s anguish. As Jonathan Webber explains, ‘Pierre’s admiration for Xavière indicates that he has not been committed to their shared values in the same way that she has been, the way that she thought he had been. For if he had, then those values would now be as sedimented in his outlook as in hers’ (2018: 64). Thus, although both have chosen this project of an open relationship, only Françoise is committed to it. This is problematic because in Françoise’s commitment to their supposedly shared project and values, it became sediment within her, and was something with which she identified. However, Pierre brings this project into question through his lack of commitment. His rejection of these values is therefore a threat not only to their relationship but also to Françoise’s very identity itself. In this section, we have portrayed the dimensions of choice and commitment, both of which arose in order to explain that which determines our authentic self.
3.2 How can we ensure our ideal is achievable?
One serious problem with the account of authenticity thus far elaborated, which Charles Guignon and Somogy Varga raise, is the concern that one’s project may be unrealizable. That is, what if one reverently pursues a particular project and fails to achieve one’s goal? Guignon argues that not only is this a possible outcome but also ‘for many people, the quest for authenticity has turned out to be a setup for disappointment and failure’ (2004: 8). In order to elucidate the concern that one may fail to become that which one has devoted one’s life to becoming, Guignon focuses specifically on the modern cult of ‘self-help’. He notes that many self-proclaimed ‘gurus’ promise the means to an authentic existence but deliver only disappointment. Self-help can be seen as synonymous with authenticity insofar as they both aim towards the same end of realizing one’s ‘true self’.
However, the supposed emancipatory ideals which self-help guides espouse advocate the author’s own ideological bias which is often incompatible with those seeking help. The consequence, as Guignon explains, is that ‘many of those who start out thinking their lives are empty or directionless end up either lost in the mind-set of a particular program or feeling they are “never good enough” no matter what they do’ (2008: 9). In this case, the consequence of self-help programmes is that they result in the opposite of that which they are intended to achieve. In this instance, one who pursues an authentic existence is destined to fail because one does not actively choose one’s life for oneself, but follows a pre-established set of norms. Thus, whilst superficially similar, self-help and authenticity are two distinct notions. The former provides an ideological formula, a paint-by-numbers approach to self-fulfilment. Authenticity, on the other hand, does not offer any such framework which one must adhere to, but requires that one determine this by oneself.
Although one may object that authenticity and self-help are two very different approaches, Somogy Varga develops Guignon’s line of thought further, making a connection between the pursuit of an authentic existence and the rise of diagnosed cases of depression. Varga claims that ‘depression occurs more frequently in individuals who pursue unobtainable goals and have difficulties in capitulating when it comes to status struggle’ (2012: 155). This itself is not controversial and seems relatively intuitive. However, Varga makes the argument that the concept of authenticity, which was once a response to mass society, has paradoxically become a prerequisite for capitalism. That is, ‘individuals are called upon to “invent themselves” in a way that facilitates flexible production’ (2012: 150). It is this particular ‘performative’ model of authenticity which Varga links with the epidemic rise of depression. His claim, then, is that the attempt to fulfil the institutional demands of authenticity creates the social precondition that leads to the exhaustion of the self. Under the performative model of authenticity, Varga claims ‘the constant activity of performing authenticity may at least explain some of the preconditions under which a rapid rise in the frequency of depression and sales of pharmaceutical anti-depressants becomes intelligible’ (2012: 154).7
An apt response to this apparent problem is proposed by Alessandro Ferrara, who suggests that one can determine what is beyond one’s capacity through ‘maturity’. For Ferrara, maturity is a form of phronesis which emphasizes knowledge of oneself in the world. Unlike the Kantian concept which emphasizes intellectual independence and responsibility, Ferrara defines maturity as ‘realism in conceiving one’s ideals and as a capacity to emotionally accept one’s limitations’ (1998: 103). Immaturity, on the other hand, Ferrara tells us, is a consequence of ‘indulgence in wishful thinking’ (1998: 100). To be mature, in Ferrara’s account, is therefore to align one’s ideal self with one’s capacities. It is this concept which prevents one from constructing an unrealizable project which will ultimately fail. Applying Ferrara’s argument to Varga’s concern, the performance of authenticity will not lead to exhaustion or depression because maturity requires reflection and knowledge of self, which will prevent one from undertaking an unachievable project. Thus, whilst Guignon and Varga both illustrate a difficulty in obtaining authenticity, the dimension of maturity enables one to overcome this problem. Through application of Ferrara’s concept of maturity, one can aptly illustrate that this is not a problem with the concept of authenticity per se, but the individual’s inability to reflect upon who they truly are. Thus, a further dimension of authenticity is that in order for one’s choice to be authentic it must be the result of mature decision.
A concrete example of this can be explicated through the life of the Japanese novelist, Mishima Yukio, who had enlisted to join the military as a youth, though being deemed physically unfit for service. Although he radically improved his health in his later years through weightlifting, karate and kendo, his immature desire to fight for the glory of the Japanese Empire consumed him.8 After the surrender of the Imperial Japanese military in 1945, Mishima continued to possess romantic yearnings and assembled a militia of disillusioned youths. His small force then marched on the National Defence Force’s headquarters and attempted a coup d’état which culminated in Mishima performing seppukku, or ritual suicide. However, one would not be willing to claim that Mishima’s life was an authentic one because he acted out of nostalgia for a past which was no longer present and attempted to fashion himself into something which was beyond his capacity. To avoid endorsing such a project, it was argued that one ought to be mature enough to comprehend the limits of one’s abilities. Nietzsche cleverly summarizes the futility of an immature decision through the following epigram: ‘whoever does not know the approach to find the way to his ideal lives more frivolously than one who does not have an ideal’ (1991: §133). Thus, as illustrated, although one may have made a free choice and was committed to one’s project, it was still possible to fail to live up to one’s ideal, and that to do so could lead to negative psychological implications. Thus, through the dimension of maturity we are able to avoid the pursuit of a project which we are able to actualize.
3.3 Where do our choices derive from?
A more fundamental issue with which authenticity must contend is the problem of decisionism, as posed by Charles Guignon.9 What this entails is that there are no grounds to justify or validate our decisions. Moreover, that any decision to embark upon a particular project is entirely arbitrary. Ultimately, this problem reduces to the claim that there are no real grounds to one’s choice. In his own words, Guignon states there are ‘innumerable ways we might constitute ourselves in imparting a narrative shape to our lives a nd there are neither inner nor outer criteria that tell us whether our life story is truly worth living’ (2004: 142). Thus, it would appear that one consequence of becoming the author of one’s own life is that there are no real reasons for one’s preferences, and as such, any choice is fundamentally groundless. The consequence of one’s decision lacking a foundation is that any attempt to justify it necessarily results in an eternal regress. In self-fashioning one does exactly that – partaking in a narrative of one’s own devising. As Guignon explains, ‘if any story can be mine, then no story is really mine. When we recognise the multiplicity of stories we can tell and the ultimate arbitrariness of every choice of storyline, we can begin to sense the utter groundlessness of any attempt at self-formation’ (2004: 143). Thus, in order to avoid a reduction of one’s decision to none other than personal preference, it is necessary to modify the account of authenticity so that there is a ground to one’s choice.
One means of surmounting this problem is to define the drive to obtain authenticity as Nietzsche does, as ‘becoming what one is’ (2007: II 9). At first thought, this injunction appears to incite the reader to discover an inner essence to be made manifest. This, however, is not Nietzsche’s intention. This is evident in the claim that ‘we, however, want to become who we are, human beings who are new, unique, incomparable, who give themselves laws, who create themselves!’ (1991: §335). Thus, rather than self-discovery, Nietzsche’s maxim seems to suggest self-fashioning. This, however, appears to result in a paradox, since in order to become what one is, one first has to create oneself. In creating oneself, one is thus determining what one is, rather than becoming what one already is. As Alexander Nehamas notes, it is problematic ‘how that self can be what one is before it comes into being itself, before it is itself something that is’ (1983: 393). How then is one to understand this dictum? In Ecce Homo – which should be seen as ‘Nietzsche’s own interpretation of his development, his works, and his significance’ (Kaufmann 2017: 201) – it is claimed that one becomes what one is unconsciously, through an overarching, organizing idea. In his own words:
To become what one is, one must not have the slightest notion of what one is. . . .The whole surface of consciousness – consciousness is a surface – must be kept clear of all great imperatives. . . . Meanwhile the organizing ‘idea’ that is destined to rule keeps growing deep down – it begins to command; slowly it leads us back from side roads and wrong roads; it prepares single qualities and fitnesses that will one day prove to be indispensable as a means towards the whole – one by one, it trains all subservient capacities before giving any hint of the dominant task, ‘goal’, ‘aim’, or ‘meaning’. (2007: II 9)
Nietzsche is not suggesting an essential self, which is discovered, but one which is formed and emerges unconsciously. This, however, seems to contradict the dimension of choice which was introduced in the first section. For if one becomes something unconsciously then it would appear that one does not have the freedom to choose. Again, one can appeal to Nietzsche, specifically to the idea of the ‘greatest weight’ as discussed in Section 1.4. The question which this thought experiment poses is: If one were to be forced to eternally relive one’s life, would one be willing to affirm it?10 For Nietzsche, it is the ability to say ‘yes’ to the eternal recurrence of the same, to love one’s fate, which denotes that one has lived a genuine existence. However, although the greatest weight inhibits one’s choice, one could conjecture that it does not coerce one into accepting one’s fate. If one’s response to the eternal recurrence of the same were ‘no’, then one is free to pursue an alternative project.
Although Nietzsche asks his reader to affirm one’s decisions, one’s decisions are constitutive of who one is as an individual, even when these do not conform to one’s contemporary outlook. As Nietzsche himself suggests, ‘something you formerly loved as a truth or a probability now strikes you as an error; you cast it off and believe your reason has made a victory. But maybe that error was as necessary for you then, when you were still another person – you are always another person-as all your present “truth”’ (1991: §307). Thus, becoming what one is, which Nietzsche advocates, is presented as a form of self-narrative, incorporating every aspect of oneself. On his account, then, what one is results from an act of creation, and what gives this act validity is that one is willing to affirm it eternally. In short, what gives one’s choice foundation is that one wants to be what one becomes. In responding to Guignon’s challenge, the basis for one’s choice is not without foundation, but given grounds in one’s ability to eternally affirm that choice as constitutive of who one is as an individual.
This dimension of authenticity, that one’s choice can be given grounds as a consequence of becoming what one is, can be aptly illustrated through Oscar Wilde’s only novel The Picture of Dorian Gray. At the outset of the novel, the protagonist, Dorian, is portrayed as an innocent, naïve and impressionable young man. And although he sits for Basil Hallwards’s portrait, it is to Lord Henry that he becomes a subject. As a result of Dorian’s susceptibility, Henry convinces him that youth and beauty are the only things worth possessing. By instilling a fear of finitude within Dorian, Henry then introduces him to a hedonistic lifestyle. Lord Henry continues to exercise his influence over Dorian, to the extent that Dorian recognizes the impact he has had upon his words and actions, informing Henry, ‘that is one of your aphorisms. I am putting it into practice as I do everything you say’ (1991a: 47). Despite Dorian’s indulgence in a decadent lifestyle, towards the end of the novel he comes to realize that his life has been one of moral decay. However, rather than accepting that which he has become as his inner essence, he chooses not to affirm his concurrent lifestyle. On the contrary, he takes responsibility for his life by destroying the painting and in doing so, reveals his true image.11
In confronting the problem of decisionism, that there was no real ground to one’s choice, it thus seemed that this may simply be the result of none other than personal preference. The reason why choice appeared arbitrary was because any attempt to justify one’s decision was supported by another choice and so on, ad infinitum. In order to avoid this problem, it was suggested that one’s choice can be grounded through ‘becoming what one is’, that is, to accept one’s actions by willing them. By willing one’s actions one thus shows that one wants to become what one will become. Since it was this choice which made one an individual, this criticism posed a major threat to the concept of authenticity. However, through the dimension of becoming what one is we are able to circumvent the claim that one’s choice is groundless. It is therefore this ensemble of willed actions and one’s project which constitute not only what is unique to an individual but also that which provides a foundation for their choice. Individuals may not have any choice over that which they unconsciously become, but one has the choice to affirm or reject one’s project.
3.4 What validates our choices?
One of the primary criticisms of the existentialist account is that their pursuit of an authentic self is a subjective and purely narcissistic endeavour. It is perceived as a pretext to ‘be what you want’ and ‘do what you like’, emphasizing freedom from objective judgement. This has also led commentators to question whether the existentialist account of authenticity has any ethical application. On the one hand, critics like Mary Warnock claim ‘[it is] doubtful whether it can be claimed that there is any direct contribution to philosophy which should be described as Existentialist ethics’ (1970: 57). On the other hand, there are those who see authenticity as an existential ethical ideal. Marjorie Grene, for example, claims ‘what the existentialist admires is not the happiness of a man’s life, the goodness of his disposition, or the rightness of his acts but the authenticity of his existence. This is, I think, the unique contribution of existentialism to ethical theory’ (1952: 266). Although the account under construction is not an existentialist one per se, the task here will be to illustrate that it provides us with an ethical ideal, and one which is capable of circumventing any criticisms of immorality.
The necessity to establish an ethic of authenticity is because if it truly lacks an ethical dimension, one could end up establishing an ethically and morally undesirable project. Thus, in order to overcome this dilemma, it must be shown that authenticity does not permit the attainment of negative ethical standards. The problem, however, is perpetuated by the existential advocates themselves. Martin Heidegger, who concerned himself primarily with ontology, denounced any moral implications within his thought, instead suggesting that ‘[ethics] begin to flourish only when ordinary thinking comes to an end’ (1993: 219). Sartre, in following Heidegger, likewise suggested that his thought was ethically neutral and that ‘ontology itself cannot formulate ethical precepts. It is concerned solely with what is, and we cannot possibly derive imperatives from ontology’s indicatives’ (2013: 645). Rather than a normative account, Heidegger and Sartre both suggest that they are instead simply presenting a formal account of authenticity. This, however, is an ethically naïve approach since there can be no such thing as a philosophically non-ethical or neutral claim as regards human existence. The very language with which Sartre attempts to articulate his formal account of authenticity is itself morally infused. Bad faith, for example, contains an ethical judgement insofar as it posits this particular mode of existence as undesirable. Moreover, in claiming his philosophy is non-ethical he is establishing an ethical claim.
This criticism can also be extended to Heidegger, for whom authenticity is portrayed as not only desirable but also the correct mode of existence. In his account there are two forms of existence: authentic (Eigentlichkeit) and inauthentic (Uneigentlichkeit). In Heidegger’s analysis, Dasein exists for the most part inauthentically.12 This is a result of values which are externally imposed by that which Heidegger terms das Man or ‘the One’. Suggestive of a form of social conformity, Heidegger notes that ‘we take pleasure and enjoy ourselves as das Man take pleasure; we read, see, and judge about literature and art as das Man see and judge’ (2010: §127). In everyday existence, Dasein’s actions are influenced by the idle talk of das Man. A consequence is that one’s death is presented as something to be feared rather than confronted.13 However, Heidegger notes that death is one’s own-most possibility, insofar as it is non-relational and not to be outstripped. As something which Dasein must experience by itself, Heidegger claims that it enables one to discover one’s authentic existence. It is only through a call of conscience that one gains awareness of one’s own-most, authentic self.
Authenticity is thus a relative term, insofar as it is only encountered in relation to inauthenticity. In Heidegger’s account, then, an inauthentic existence is one in which one’s own-most possibility is concealed. In order to live a truly authentic life, one must therefore oppose ‘the dictatorship of das Man’ which conceals Dasein’s own mode of being. By suggesting that one’s values are determined by others, which one must reject in order to obtain authenticity, Heidegger seems to reject the horizon from within which one is fostered. However, as will be argued later, all value judg ements are a product of one’s community. Furthermore, he appears to offer a prescriptive account of being, which would suggest that inauthentic existence is something to be overcome, which is itself an ethical claim.14
A more lucid articulation of this argument is made by Watsuji Tetsurō, who offers not only a critique of Heidegger’s concept of authenticity but also individualistic accounts of ethics in general.15 Watsuji begins with a critique of the perspective that Western culture, in virtue of being predominantly individual, is superior to the communal structure of Asian societies. However, rather than arguing in favour of a communal approach, as one might expect, Watsuji claims both perspectives are fundamentally flawed. The negative structure of human existence (ningen sonzai 人間存在), according to Watsuji, is that to be an individual one must rebel against the whole, whilst to adhere to the whole one must relinquish one’s independence as an individual. In light of this, Watsuji’s suggestion condemns both approaches, instead positing the alternative of double negation, by which he means the negation of both one’s individuality and community. His reason for doing so is because ‘both individuals and the whole subsist not in themselves, but only in the relationship of each with the other’ (1996: 101). That is, to be an individual, or to solely identify with one’s society, is to negate the betweenness which makes one human (人間). What Watsuji is presenting is therefore an intersubjective account of ethics.
Whilst Heidegger’s approach to authenticity was achieved through distancing oneself from das Man, for Watsuji the negation of one’s community is a one-sided approach to existence. As Yasuo Yuasa explains, ‘Dasein is grasped with an emphasis on its individuality and without sufficiently considering the social relationship between the self and others’ (1987: 169). In Watsuji’s own words, ‘what Heidegger calls authenticity is, in reality, inauthenticity. And when this in-authenticity becomes further negated through this nondual relation of self and other, that is to say, when the “self” becomes annihilated, only then is authenticity realised’ (1996: 225). Watsuji’s ‘concept of authenticity’16 thus suggests that one can only know one’s true self in relation to one’s community, and the only means to achieve this is to affirm neither aspect but reject both. The ontological foundation of this claim is derived from the Buddhist concept of nothingness. To obtain authenticity (honraisei 本来性) for Watsuji is to know ‘one’s true countenance before the birth of one’s own parents’ (1996: 187).17 This, however, is a rather abstract concept and one which is all too foreign to a Western audience. What Watsuji is attempting to do is to posit a Buddhist concept of authenticity which claims that there is something essential which one is and that realization of this leads to an authentic existence. However, one must question if Watsuji is correct to suggest an essentialist approach, and whether his concept of authenticity is a viable one.
An essentialist approach to authenticity, which we earlier associated with Rousseau and the romantics (2.3), was rejected on the grounds that we now live within a post-metaphysical culture; however, it is problematic for more practical reasons. One issue which Varga flags is that such a ‘model of authenticity relies on the assumption of an inner-directed mechanism whereby we have “privileged” perceptual access to our inner states’ (2012: 62). Within this ‘inner sense’ model, one’s mental states, which Ferrara refers to as ‘a kind of psychological DNA’, are understood as stable entities that await introspective discovery through self-reflection (1998: 53). However, Varga notes that ‘the idea is flawed because one cannot simply detect an independently obtaining state of mind’ (2012: 64). That is, it is impossible to discover one’s essential self through reflection because who we are is constituted by conflicting wishes and desires. As Varga further elucidates, ‘the fact that a particular wish (desire, etc.) is stronger than others does not warrant regarding it as more expressive of ourselves than any of the other less resilient ones’ (2012: 68). Thus, one is not able to determine one’s ‘true self’ through privileged access to one’s propositional attitudes because what one discovers is not a permanent state. Although an essentialist account fails to locate a fixed inner essence, the intersubjective vision which Watsuji suggests can be upheld in absence of such.
This is precisely the position which is advocated by Charles Taylor through his concepts of dialogical-selves and horizon of significance. To recap on the account articulated in Section 2.5, for Taylor, we do not develop on our own but only through our interactions with others. As he explains, ‘my discovering my own identity doesn’t mean that I work it out in isolation, but that I negotiate it through dialogue, partly overt, partly internal, with others. My own identity crucially depends on my dialogical relations with others’ (1989: 36). However, these need not be physical dialogues, but also include imagined conversations. One might imagine what advice one’s late grandfather would give regarding a course of action, or be remorseful of one’s behaviour having imagined one’s mother’s reaction. What is important in Taylor’s account, as Ruth Abbey explains, is that ‘the idea of the dialogical self points to [. . .] a psychological blurring of boundaries between self and other’ (2000: 68). Thus, on Taylor’s approach, our identity is not chosen in isolation, but is informed by our society as a whole.
In conjunction with his concept of dialogue, Taylor emphasizes that since we do not develop in monologue, but are shaped by our interactions with others, things gain importance or significance against a horizon of significance.18 In his own words, ‘my identity is defined by the commitments and identifications which provide the frame or horizon within which I can try to determine from case to case what is good, or valuable, or what ought to be done, or what I endorse or oppose. In other words, it is the horizon within which I am capable of taking a stand’ (1989: 26). However, to claim that our society limits our choices does not adequately illustrate the extent of our limitations, our capacities for self-realization and historical determination.
There are simply some possibilities which are not available to modern individuals. A modern Homeric hero, such as Achilles, vowing to destroy an opposing nation for the glory of his city would not be conceived of as a hero. Although we can think of narrow-minded nationalists who would romanticize such an ideal, the general consensus would be that the person in question is nothing but a cold-blooded murderer. Likewise, we cannot conceive of a medieval saint, such as Joan of Arc, in twenty-first-century Europe. Were one to proclaim to possess a direct link to God and be an instrument of divine action, it is doubtful whether even the church itself would believe the person in question; rather, we would imagine that they would be referred to a psychiatric ward. However, one might object that these are pre-modern notions of the good, and as such, this is the reason why they are not genuine possibilities for a modern individual. The hero was a desirable character in ancient Greece because they sustained the autonomy of their polis and way of life of its citizens. The saint was likewise upheld as an archetype to emulate because they epitomized the values of the church, which were predominant within medieval Europe. There is, however, a more concise explanation.
To revisit the example of Mishima Yukio attempting to cultivate himself into a modern-day samurai, we can appeal to a criticism which John Horton levels against the protagonist of Jim Jarmusch’s film, Ghost Dog. The motion-picture depicts a modern assassin who lives according to bushido, or the ‘way of the samurai’. However, Horton’s claim is that ‘the social context for such a life is entirely absent. He cannot adopt the identity of a samurai because such a way of life is not a genuinely meaningful option in late-twentieth-century, urban America. At best, he can adopt a few ersatz approximations of some features of such a life’ (2010: 181). Thus, in both examples of Mishima and Ghost Dog, the reason why their lives are conceived of as disingenuous is because, despite being freely chosen and committed, their choices were not genuine, mature possibilities which are afforded by their social context. As Horton exemplifies, ‘it is the meanings afforded by our language, culture and history that determine the social possibilities that are available to us. Only some ways of living and understanding ourselves make sense in the societies in which we live’ (2005: 180).
To exemplify this claim, that our choices are historically limited, we can think of modern social trends, such as bohemians, hippies and punk-rockers. In these examples, we would likewise agree that to attempt to cultivate oneself in accordance with the fashion or values of one of these trends would be inauthentic. One reason, as expressed by David Boyle, is that people attempt to ‘buy in’ to these trends. As Boyle himself makes explicit,
every generation since has dressed differently from the last – even if they didn’t dress differently from each other. They believed in self-actualization, and struggled against becoming subsumed in the nine-to-five workaday world. But it is an ironic paradox that gets sharper with every new generation: they are increasingly lured by marketing into the consumer world in order to afford to buy themselves the badges and outfits of revolt – but the further they get drawn in, and the more they spend, the more they find themselves part of the very world they were trying to break free from. (2004: 114)
A more specific reason why such trends have become commodified, and why it is no longer authentic to fashion oneself in such a way, is because the conditions that once made these options historically meaningful and authentic have changed. That is, it was possible to be an authentic punk in the 1970s, for example, but not now. To expand on this, the reason why these projects can no longer be considered authentic is because in each case they were reactions to social oppression at a specific time.19 Since the conditions which made these projects meaningful no longer exist, to attempt to fashion oneself in accordance with an outdated social trend is but nostalgia for a past one never experienced. Although this could be explained through the dimensions of maturity and intersubjective consciousness – that one has not realistically conceived of the possibilities present within one’s social context – this does not sufficiently address the issue, and as such, a historical dimension is required.
However, the question arises as to why we can omit such possibilities as those which no longer exist, yet permit those which do not yet exist? Let us imagine Sartre’s student has decided his country needs him more than his mother and has formed a project to become a resistance fighter, in what way can this be considered authentic? To follow from the examples of bohemians, hippies and punks, it can be inferred that this is a reaction to social injustice. To expand on this, social movements are ephemeral because there are certain factors which make them possible, such as corruption, and loss of autonomy and identity. These consequences lead to the realization that authenticity is not a state which one permanently attains, a level which we arrive at, akin to the concept of Buddhist Enlightenment. Rather, we may have been living an authentic existence, but due to political circumsta nces, or personal relationships, one is no longer able, or willing, to actualize that state of existence. Authenticity is therefore not a static, fixed mode of existence but requires constant attention and readjustment. This point is aptly illustrated by Beauvoir in her novel The Mandarins, where her characters Robert and Henri demonstrate their support for communism in response to the horrors of Nazism. However, they are faced with difficulties, and their positions then shift after the discovery of Russian gulags.20
Both of these aspects, of socio-historical conditions and the temporality of authenticity, can be expressed by Martin Heidegger’s concept of ‘heritage’. What this entails is that we derive the content of our lives from our personal and social heritage.21 As Heidegger explains, ‘the resoluteness with which Dasein comes back to itself, discloses current factical possibilities of authentic existing, and discloses them as that heritage which that resoluteness as thrown, takes over’ (2010: §383). In other words, Dasein ‘historicizes’, that is takes on certain aspects of traditions that it has received and reconfigures them in order to found a new mode of Being. Heidegger calls this process ‘repetition’ and a ‘handing over’, which constitutes the ‘fate’ and ‘destiny’ of Dasein (2005: §386). Thus, those genuine possibilities which can be authentically manifested are made available by our own contemporary surroundings. From what has been claimed earlier, we thus ought to supplement Heidegger concept of ‘heritage’ with the injunction that when social conditions facilitate a loss of agency or threaten to destroy a particular way of life, the possibilities for counter-movements emerge and determine the conditions which permit whether a project is authentic or inauthentic.
Now that we have illustrated how authenticity can be understood as an ethical ideal, attention will be turned to demonstrating a consequence of the six dimensions of our socio-existential approach, which enables one to respond to the problem of meaning. To recapitulate the problem, in Chapter 1 it was stated that there were three major developments which led to the historical formation of the modern world view. These were (i) the rise of modern science, which Weber describes as disenchantment, (ii) the emergence of Protestantism, which focused on the inner self and emphasized contemptus mundi, and (iii) the Enlightenment’s emphasis on rationality as the teleological end of human civilization. As a combined result of these, there occurred a levelling of the ‘great chain of being’, which had previously determined the function and place of things and how people ought to act. The consequence of this loss was one of disorientation and displacement, with humanity no longer occupying a fixed place within the universe. The purpose which humans had previously believed to be their natural end had thus been lost, and for those who understood the logical implications of these vicissitudes, life appeared to be meaningless. It is precisely this problem, of freedom and meaning, which this book will engage with – namely, to overcome the nihilistic implications of the loss of natural teleology and the compartmentalization of the modern individual’s personal identity. In what way then, is our socio-existential approach to authenticity able to respond to this predicament?
In order to explain how one can live a meaningful life, it will be helpful to provide a concrete account of what an authentic existence looks like. Let us imagine one whose project is to become an academic. According to the first dimension, one must have chosen this career path for themselves, rather than being pressured into doing so, for example, because one’s parents were academics and one was encouraged to pursue this profession. Secondly, one must also be committed to this vocation. In order to elucidate, consider two people who desire a career in academia. The first attends university, pursues postgraduate studies and begins a PhD. The second reads Nausea and decides spur of moment that they wish to become an academic. Using this analogy to illuminate Beauvoir’s point, to relinquish one’s project of becoming an academic would be a much more difficult choice to make for the person who has obtained the necessary qualifications than for the person who has not already committed their life to realizing their project. Thirdly, in order to ensure one’s project is realistic, one must have maturely analysed one’s physical and mental capacities. If one does not possess the mental stamina to conduct research, or is unable to communicate one’s ideas coherently, then to pursue a career in academia which requires these abilities will not be a project which one can fulfil.
Fourthly, what provides a foundation for one’s choice is that one must not only be able to accept that one has become an academic but also be willing to eternally affirm one’s vocation. That is, one must not only be naturally inclined towards academia but also enact these abilities through teaching and research. Fifthly, one’s project cannot be simply subjective. One does not just become an academic for the social status of being a ‘doctor’, or for the accomplishment of having published a book. This cannot be a subjective affair because the concept of ‘doctor’ only gains significance from the fact that other people recognize it as an achievement; moreover, in publishing, one has an intellectual impact upon those who read it. Furthermore, one’s area of expertise is derived from within an existing field which one contributes to. Finally, we must recognize that current modes of existence are inauthentic because they are untimely and also that authenticity is not a fixed state, but can be lost through the change in social and personal situations. That is, one may have fulfilled the previous criteria and lived as an authentic academic, however, the outbreak of war may require one to leave one’s position and instead contribute towards the war effort.
In what way can this account of authenticity enable the modern individual to live a meaningful life? One aspect which has been hinted towards, but not fully elucidated, is the cohesive nature of one’s project which brings unity to one’s lesser projects. As already noted, one’s project is tied up with one’ s identity. That is, in forming a project one also determines what one is. To continue with the example of the would-be academic, in terms of commitment, the completion of a PhD, publication of research papers, a lecturing position and teaching, all add to the sedimentation and entwinement of one’s identity to academia. Likewise, if they were to immaturely pursue their studies to doctoral level, but fail their viva voce, and thus their PhD, not only will they lose the coherence which their project gave to their life, but they will also experience an existential crisis through the loss of how they identified themselves. These dimensions then constitute one’s identity, but more than this, they give it cohesion. This cohesion is exemplified by Nietzsche’s concept of becoming what one is, that one’s beliefs and values are unconsciously ordered into one meaningful whole. This then engages with the problem of the compartmentalization of the individual, organizing one’s lesser projects into a unified identity. Furthermore, this concept of authenticity addresses the loss of natural teleology by affirming one’s unified self as that which one has not only become, but freely chosen. In this way, one’s existence is given subjective meaning, and as such impedes the onset of nihilism.
3.6 Summary
The aim of this chapter was to provide a formal account of authenticity, explicate its ethical implications, and illustrate how this enables one to live a meaningful life. These aims were achieved through engagement with contemporary literature and with the problems which it poses. Here it was determined that there are six dimensions to our concept of authenticity. The first dimension is choice, which entails that one must freely, of one’s own accord, choose one’s project for oneself (as opposed to socially imposed projects) as exemplified by The Death of Ivan Ilych. The second dimension is commitment, that one’s choice/project is meaningful because one is committed to that project. If one is not committed, then one’s choice seems arbitrary and cannot be said to be authentic, as was exemplified through Beauvoir’s novel, She Came to Stay. The third dimension is maturity, which requires that one be aware of one’s physical and social restrictions. One’s choice may be one’s own, and to which one is committed, but unless it is a realistic project which one is capable of fulfilling, then one cannot live an authentic existence, as illustrated through the life of Mishima Yukio. The fourth dimension is becoming what one is and emphasized that one must be willing to affirm what one is, and which was given expression through the novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray.
The fifth dimension, intersubjective consciousness, addressed the charge against the existentialists that their accounts were narcissistic and led to ethically undesirable projects. It was here illustrated that our concept of authenticity was able to circumvent these claims, insofar as individuals develop through dialogue and their choices are given meaning through a shared horizon of intelligibility. It was also shown that one not only chooses from within one’s horizon but also contributes towards it. To be conscious of our dialogical development then prevents one from advocating a solipsistic, subjective ethic of the self and making narcissistic decisions. The sixth dimension, heritage, enables one to recognize that projects become authentic/inauthentic in accordance with social and personal situations. Through adhering to these dimensions, it was then suggested that one obtains a sense of meaning, which illustrated how authenticity provides a cohesive account of personal identity which is capable of overcoming the loss of natural teleology by giving meaning to the individual’s existence. Through these six dimensions, we have constructed not only a formal account of authenticity but one which offers an ethical ideal and which responds to the problem of meaning as well. Having achieved the aim outlined at the beginning on this chapter, the next step will be to consider alternative contemporary responses to the problems of modernity, and it is to this task to which we will now turn.
Notes
1 Marjorie Grene notes that whilst Sartre’s account is explicitly atheist, this also leads to a rejection of the Aristotelian position, though Sartre does not make this argument. See Dreadful Freedom: A Critique of Existentialism (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1948).
2 Here Sartre borrows from Kierkegaard (The Concept of Dread: 38) and Heidegger (Being and Time: 228) who distinguish between fear and anxiety, noting that the former is induced by an object whilst the latter is brought about by no-thing, or nothingness.
3 In his early work, Sartre’s theory of recognition suggests that the other’s gaze is objectifying. However, in his later work, particularly The Critique of Dialectical Reason, his position is closer to Hegel, to the extent that he develops an intersubjective account of recognition, akin the of the master/slave dialect.
4 Although Sartre, Beauvoir and Merleau-Ponty jointly edited the journal Les Temps Moderne, Sartre published a segment of his book on communism without first consulting Merleau-Ponty. According to Jonathan Webber, ‘This was the start of a series of infractions and breaches of collegial etiquette that increased the tension between them until Merleau-Ponty resigned from the journal a year later.’ Rethinking Existentialism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018), 57.
5 Beauvoir makes evident that Merleau-Ponty’s critique of Sartre is valid in a review of The Phenomenology of Perception by Maurice Merleau-Ponty in Simone de Beauvoir, Philosophical Writings, ed. Margaret A. Simons (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2004), 159–64.
6 The biographical nature of this novel, depicting Sartre and Beauvoir’s relationship with their student Olga Kosakilwewicz, is made evident by Hazel Rowley in Tete-a-tete: Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre (New York: HarperCollins, 2005), 416, and Dierdre Blair’s Simone de Beauvoir: A Biography (London: Cape, 1990), 718.
7 The paradox which both Guignon and Varga allude to, that authenticity which was initially a means of resisting mass society has been commodified to a necessary feature of capitalism, will be addressed in Chapter 7.
8 This is evident through Mishima’s non-fictional writings. In his commentary on Hagakure, an eighteenth-century samurai handbook, Mishima glorifies the ascetic mind-set of the samurai, and their orientation towards death. Mishima on Hagakure: The Samurai Ethic and Modern Japan (London: Penguin, 1979). Likewise, in his autobiography he idealizes himself as a warrior through his practice of martial arts which he portrays as a balance to rectify the ‘corruption of words’ Sun and Steel (New York: Kodansha, 2003).
9 This criticism of decisionism was originally charged against Heidegger by Karl Löwith who argues that Heidegger’s discussion of resoluteness commits him to an indefensible position in which resolute Dasein is said to choose who it will be without recourse to any reasons or evaluative standards. Karl Löwith, Martin Heidegger and European Nihilism, ed. R. Wolin (New York: Columbia University Press, 1995), pp. 33–68, 159–66, 211–25, 4.
10 For the argument concerning the eternal reoccurrence as a thought experiment, as opposed to a cosmological hypothesis about the nature of the universe, see Aaron Ridley, ‘Nietzsche’s Greatest Weight’, Journal of Nietzsche Studies, no. 14 (Autumn 1997): 19-25.
11 F or further elaboration of the connotations of authenticity in The Picture of Dorian Gray, see Shuttleworth, ‘An Existential Interpretation of the Picture of Dorian Gray: A Heideggerian Perspective’, (2019).
12 Distinct from consciousness, Heidegger claims that Dasein (literally being-there) is neither subjective nor objective but being-in-the-world. He further defines it by stating Dasein is ‘that entity which in its Being has this very Being as an issue’. Being and Time, trans. John Macquarrie and John Robinson (Oxford: Blackwell, 2005), 68.
13 For an analysis of the phenomenology of death, see Shuttleworth, ‘The Role of Death within the Phenomenologies of Hegel and Heidegger’ (2013).
14 Despite Heidegger’s self-professed ethical neutrality, there have been several attempts to interpret and import an ethic into his thought. These include, but are not limited to, Joanna Hodge’s Heidegger and Ethics (1995), Lawrence J. Hatab’s Ethics and Finitude: Heideggerian Contributions to Moral Philosophy (2000), Frederick J. Olafson’s Heidegger and the Ground of Ethics: A Study of Mitsein (2008), David Webb’s Heidegger, Ethics, and the Practice of Ontology (2011), and Michael Lewis, Heidegger and the Place of Ethics (2013).
15 Although Watsuji received a letter of introduction to Heidegger he never redeemed it. He was, however, living in Germany when Being and Time was published and worked through the German text, with his criticisms leading to the publication of his first major philosophical text, Climate and Culture.
16 For the arguments surrounding Watsuji’s ‘concept of authenticity’, see Shuttleworth, ‘Watsuji’s Concept of Authenticity’ (2019).
17 This phrase is derived from the famous Zen koan ‘without thinking good or evil, in this moment, what is your Original Face?’ The Gateless Gate.
18 Taylor is here influenced by Hans Georg Gadamer’s ‘Fusion of Horizons’, Truth and Method, trans. Joel Weinsheimer and Donald G. Marshall (London: Continuum, 2004), 302.
19 Mass society in the case of the bohemians, senseless consumption and violence for the hippies, and the ‘establishment’ for the punks.
20 It has been argued that Beauvoir is here representing the ideological feud and eventual unravelling of the friendship between Sartre (Robert) and Camus (Henri). See Ruth Kitchen’s ‘From Shame Towards an Ethics of Ambiguity’, Sartre Studies International 19, no. 1 (2013): 55–70.
21 Contrary to traditionalism or conservativism, which emphasize the commitment to maintain traditional cultural beliefs and values, and which oppose change, we will employ the concept of heritage in a much more restricted sense. The manner in which we will use ‘heritage’ is simply to refer to the limitations imposed upon us by our historical context.