Will D. Desmond

Richard Taft’s discussion focuses on the undoubted fact that a shift occurs in Hegel’s attitude to art. This shift served to put increasing distance between him and the approaches of Schelling and Hölderlin to the issue. Hegel became the defender of the supremacy of philosophy against any Romantic effort to assert art’s superiority, also against the traditional theological subordination of philosophy to religion. It is clear, and Taft is helpful here, that the younger Hegel was not insistent on the primacy of philosophy in this sense. Taft helps us focus on important facets in Hegel’s shift: the cooling of Hegel’s youthful ardor with respect to the Hellenic ideal, the chastening of excessively utopian ideals, the shift in the function of art from the ancient world to modernity, and the importance of the systematic ideal in Hegel’s philosophical development.

The appearance in English of Hegel’s letters is long overdue. We can now thank Clark Butler and Christiane Seiler for the tremendous work of translation they have done in bringing the letters to us. In addition to this immense labor of translation, Butler has also contributed a very helpful introduction to this volume, explaining the general organization of this English edition of the letters and giving us a brief overview of Hegel’s life in relation to them. Butler distinguishes helpfully between a Neoplatonic, panlogist and hermeneutical reading of Hegel. In his introduction he focusses particularly on the contrast of the panlogist and hermeneutical readings, arguing for an open-endedness in Hegel’s thought which would make this thought more hermeneutical than panlogist. This is too large an issue to discuss here, and Butler has discussed it more fully in some other writings. He does, however, remind us of Hegel’s repudiation of the excesses of romantic subjectivity, seeing in Hegel’s tendency toward panlogism a polemical overreaction to the romantic cult of feeling. Whatever the relative merits of these different readings of Hegel are with respect to his systematic works, the hermeneutical approach will inevitably receive some support from a consideration of the letters. For since Hegel’s letters are the direct outgrowth of his life, with all its existential ambiguities and entanglements, they reveal a many-sided Hegel who is impossible to encapsulate in any closed system of concepts.

The appearance in English of Hegel’s letters is long overdue. We can now thank Clark Butler and Christiane Seiler for the tremendous work of translation they have done in bringing the letters to us. In addition to this immense labor of translation, Butler has also contributed a very helpful introduction to this volume, explaining the general organization of this English edition of the letters and giving us a brief overview of Hegel’s life in relation to them. Butler distinguishes helpfully between a Neoplatonic, panlogist and hermeneutical reading of Hegel. In his introduction he focusses particularly on the contrast of the panlogist and hermeneutical readings, arguing for an open-endedness in Hegel’s thought which would make this thought more hermeneutical than panlogist. This is too large an issue to discuss here, and Butler has discussed it more fully in some other writings. He does, however, remind us of Hegel’s repudiation of the excesses of romantic subjectivity, seeing in Hegel’s tendency toward panlogism a polemical overreaction to the romantic cult of feeling. Whatever the relative merits of these different readings of Hegel are with respect to his systematic works, the hermeneutical approach will inevitably receive some support from a consideration of the letters. For since Hegel’s letters are the direct outgrowth of his life, with all its existential ambiguities and entanglements, they reveal a many-sided Hegel who is impossible to encapsulate in any closed system of concepts.

Can philosophy laugh at itself? Like Houdini I weigh myself down with chains, the harder to test my virtuosity as an escape artist. So I take the heaviest burden on myself: Hegel. If any philosopher was serious, Hegel was. But - to parody Nietzsche - here is the heaviest thought: Hegel had a sense of humor. My reader will think that already I am joking, but please do not laugh. I am deadly serious: Hegel had a sense of humor. I will proceed seriously to substantiate this audacity to the logical concept by looking at the relation of Hegel and Aristophanes. Let me dampen any suspicion of frivolity or outrage to logical respectability. So I slip back into the tone of scholarly sobriety and purr: To my best knowledge, this relation is one of the most overlooked by commentators. It is also one of the most interesting for the following reasons

It is a philosophical commonplace to juxtapose logic and imagination, reason and sensibility, the concept and intuition, philosophy itself and art. Frequently these pairs are thought of as opposites, one mediated through abstract reflection, the other a more intimate participant in the given of concrete existence. Philosophy does not always come off uncriticized in this opposition. Its reflective, analytical impulse is often thought to abstract us, remove us from the concretely real. Art, by contrast, it is said, serves to keep us closer to the particularities and richness of the concrete, and so to be justified in the greater immediacy of its appeal.

A fate similar to Kant’s sometimes befalls Hegel: the importance of their meditation on art is not always given its full due. In Kant’s case the Critique of Judgement becomes an elaborate afterthought, filling some of the gaps left by the Critique of Pure Reason and the Critique of Practical Reason. Particularly with English-speaking commentators, Kant is read from the First Critique forwards, never also from the Third Critique backwards. Hegel, we add, did not lend himself to such a unilinear reading of Kant; yet his own concern with art is frequently subject to a similar consideration. Despite the fact that Hegel unabashedly ascribes to art a certain absoluteness, his reflections on art tend not to be placed close to the core of his philosophy as a whole. As in commentaries on Kant, so also with Hegel: towards the end of involved exegeses, we get a quick run-through of their aesthetic views, as if both too did write on these matters, yet somehow in a not central way. Art comes after the hard work is done, it does not shape their thought from the beginning. We may marvel at the astonishing breadth of culture displayed by Hegel’s Lectures on Aesthetics, all the more surprising, given Hegel’s reputation as an unbending rationalist. In them we may find many rich reflections on art’s significance. Yet these tend to be detached from the general principles of Hegel’s philosophy, and praised or criticized in isolation. Even when due weight is given to the general principles of Hegel’s thought, and even when these principles are held to reveal something of art’s significance, the significance of art for philosophy itself tends to remain unexplored. How the art work enters intimately into Hegel’s ideal of philosophical thinking is not always entertained for the central question that it is.

Generally, where scientistic attitudes towards the order of creation tend towards the reductive, postmodern attitudes tend towards the deconstructive. The given order of beauty tends to be made problematic. The surface of things is often invested with an equivocity that, whether reductively or deconstructively, we can only approach with epistemic-ontological suspicion. In the following reflections I focus on the connection between given beauty and the order of creation in light of issues connected to this. Beauty itself is inseparable from some sense of formed wholeness. Is there is a givenness to beauty in nature which belies the claim that order is just an imposition of power on flux? The notion of creation is inseparable from the origination of order, but the order comes to be, arises from originating sources that allow forms of beauty to be that are more than our determination or self-determination. Something marvelously original comes to be, comes to shine. There is a shine on things. But what shines on things when we come to appreciate their given beauty? Is it just our shine on things, as if we were the sole source of light? Is it the shine of things, as if the things were luminescent in their own being there? Is it a shine on things, such that the source of the light was not just ours, nor confined to the thing of beauty? These questions will be explored.

This is a reflection on the gift of beauty and the passion of being in light of the fact that today we often meet an ambiguous attitude to beauty. Beauty seems bland and lacks the more visceral thrill of the ugly, indeed the excremental. We crave what disrupts and provokes us. Bland beauty seems to be the death of originality. How then be open at all to beauty as gift? In fact, we often are disturbed paradoxically by beauty: both taken out of ourselves, hence disquieted, yet awakened to our being at home with beauty. Beauty arouses enigmatic joy in us, and we enjoy an elemental rapport with it as other. Surprised by beauty, our breath is taken away; we are more truly there with the beautiful yet taken outside of ourselves: both at home with ourselves and not at home, in being beyond ourselves. We are first receivers of the gift of surprise and only then perceivers and conceivers. My attention to the passion of being stresses a patience, a receptivity to what is other. What happens is not first our construction. Our being disarmed by the beautiful I hold to be in tune with our being as marked most deeply by what I call a primal ‘porosity’ to being. Beauty sensuously communicates in and through this awakened porosity. We are a patience of being before we are an endeavour to be. In modern aesthetics and culture, originating receptivity tends to be downplayed as a depreciation of our claims to creative power. The predominant stress often falls on human autonomy, such that we love only what we construct ourselves, not what we receive. By contrast, I argue there is something of the godsend in what is truly beautiful. This might not be a fashionable way of talking but the vocation of the philosopher is not to be fashionable but to be true.

The themes of this book are very fitting for the preoccupations that have perplexed Desmond. The interplay between art, religion and philosophy has been at issue in all of his work. These three, in addition to our being ethical, are of significance for themselves and for philosophical reflection. Desmond holds that there is a metaxological intermediation among art, religion and philosophy rather than a dialectical sublation, as Hegel held. The metaxological intermediations of the spaces between art, ethics, religion and philosophy are plurivocal rather than univocal, or even dialectical. The plurivocity of these intermediations is richly evident in the diverse contributions of the different writers in this volume. Desmond responds metaxologically to their main concerns.

This article explains some of the major intentions the author had in writing the book Hegel’s God: A Counterfeit Double? It especially focuses on the question of transcendence, both with respect to the question of God as such, as well as Hegel’s option for a version of holistic immanence. It spells out some of the details of the book itself, and explains the guiding thread of the counterfeit double. The texts of Hegel may be saturated with the word “God,” but in Hegel’s dialectical-speculative reconfiguration of God, what God comes to signify is devoid of the strong transcendence we find in Biblical monotheism. The strengths and deficiencies of Hegel’s position are explored.

This article locates Hegel’s understanding of the nature of knowledge in various contexts (Hegel’s logical system, Kantian idealism, the Enlightenment ideal of encyclopaedia) and applies it specifically to his systematic classification of histories. Here Hegel labels Herodotus an “original” historian, and hence incapable of the broader vision and self-reflexive method of a “philosophical” historian like Hegel himself. This theoretical classification is not quite in accord with Hegel’s actual appropriation of material from Herodotus’s narrative for his own purposes. These appropriations point in complex ways to dimensions of the “Father of History” which are proto-Hegelian, as well as to other dimensions which are not.

Far from being pessimistic or nihilistic, as modern uses of the term "cynic" suggest, the ancient Cynics were astonishingly optimistic regarding human nature. They believed that if one simplified one's life—giving up all unnecessary possessions, desires, and ideas—and lived in the moment as much as possible, one could regain one's natural goodness and happiness. It was a life exemplified most famously by the eccentric Diogenes, nicknamed "the Dog," and his followers, called dog-philosophers, _kunikoi, _or Cynics. Rebellious, self-willed, and ornery but also witty and imaginative, these dog-philosophers are some of the most colorful personalities from antiquity. This engaging introduction to Cynicism considers both the fragmentary ancient evidence on the Cynics and the historical interpretations that have shaped the philosophy over the course of eight centuries—from Diogenes himself to Nietzsche and beyond. Approaching Cynicism from a variety of thematic perspectives as well—their critique of convention, praise of natural simplicity, advocacy of self-sufficiency, defiance of Fortune, and freedom—William Desmond offers a fascinating survey of a school of thought that has had a tremendous influence throughout history and is of continuing interest today. _Copub: Acumen Publishing Limited_

"Rich in new and stimulating ideas, and based on the breadth of reading and depth of knowledge which its wide-ranging subject matter requires, _The Greek Praise of Poverty_ argues impressively and cogently for a relocation of Cynic philosophy into the mainstream of Greek ideas on material prosperity, work, happiness, and power." —_A. Thomas Cole, Professor Emeritus of Classics, Yale University _ "This clear, well-written book offers scholars and students an accessible account of the philosophy of Cynicism, particularly with regard to the Cynics' attachment to a life of poverty and their disdain for wealth. I have truly profited from reading William Desmond’s book." —_Luis Navia, New York Institute of Technology_ William Desmond, taking issue with typical assessments of the ancient Cynics, contends that figures such as Antisthenes and Diogenes were not cultural outcasts or marginal voices in the classical culture of the fifth and fourth centuries B.C. Rather, the Cynic movement had deep and significant roots in what Desmond calls "the Greek praise of poverty." Desmond demonstrates that classical attitudes toward wealth were complex and ambivalent, and allowed for an implicit praise of poverty and the virtues it could inspire. From an economic and political point of view, the poor majority at Athens and elsewhere were natural democrats who distrusted great concentrations of wealth as potentially oligarchical or tyrannical. Hence, the poor could be praised in contemporary literature for their industry, honesty, frugality, and temperance. The rich, on the other hand, were often criticized as idle, unjust, arrogant, and profligate. These perspectives were reinforced by typical Greek experiences of war, and the belief that poverty fostered the virtues of courage and endurance. Finally, from an early date, Greek philosophers associated wisdom with the transcendence of sense experience and of such worldly values as wealth and honor. The Cynics, Desmond asserts, assimilated all of these ideas in creating their distinctive and radical brand of asceticism. Theirs was a startling and paradoxical outlook, but it had broad appeal and would persist to exert a manifold influence in the Hellenistic period and beyond