Mark Cauchi

_Explores a growing number of films and filmmakers that challenge the strict boundaries between belief and unbelief._ For some time now, thinkers across the humanities and social sciences have increasingly called into question the once-dominant view of the relationship between modernity and secularism, prompting some to speak of a "postsecular turn." Until now, film studies has largely been silent about this development, even though cinema itself has been a major vehicle for such reflection. This fact became inescapable in 2011 when Terrence Malick's _The Tree of Life_ and Lars von Trier's _Melancholia_ were released within days of each other. While these two audacious and controversial films present seemingly opposite perspectives-the former a thoughtful meditation on faith, the latter a portrayal of nontriumphalist atheism-together they raise critical questions about transcendence and immanence in modern life. These films are, however, only the most conspicuous of a growing body of works that call forth similar and related questions-what this collection aptly calls "postsecular cinema." Taking the nearly simultaneous release of _The Tree of Life_ and _Melancholia_ as its starting point and framing device, this pioneering collection sets out to establish the idea of postsecular cinema as a distinct body of films and a viable critical category. Adopting a film-philosophy approach, one group of essays examines Malick's and von Trier's films, while another looks at works by Chantal Akerman, Denys Arcand, the Dardenne brothers, and John Michael McDonagh, among others. The volume closes with two important interviews with Luc Dardenne and Jean-Luc Nancy that invite us to reflect more deeply on some of the central concerns of postsecular cinema.

In this article, I undertake a close reading of Isabel Rocamora's 2015 film installation Faith, which shows, on three separate screens, Jewish, Christian, and Muslim men simultaneously performing their morning prayers in three distinct, historically significant sites in the Judean desert. Setting the cinematic and installation properties of the work into dialogue with a number of philosophers (Levinas, Derrida, Cavell), film theorists (Bazin, Deleuze, Chion), and art theorists (Fried, Elkins), I argue that it adopts a postsecular approach to religious pluralism. That is, without being a religious artwork, Faith nevertheless deconstructs the conventional liberal secular approach of universalist neutrality towards inter-religious relations and instead configures the relations between the human figures in the work according to an alterity that requires not cognitive certainty but inter-human faith. The work is thereby consistent with Derrida's notion that tout autre est tout autre (every other is wholly other).

It is common in accounts of the secularization of Western thought to make reference to the name of Nietzsche. Nietzsche is undeniably a critic of religion, but he is equally a critic of the secular. It is for this reason that I propose thinking about Nietzsche’s philosophy as postsecular. This term is one that has evolved over the last couple decades in response to the so-called “return of the religious” in society, social theory, and philosophy and suggests that secularity and religiosity are not antithetical and therefore that we must move beyond the forms of thinking that would regard them as such. First, I focus on his concepts of will to power, interpretation, perspectivism, and history, and sketch how they are all interrelated and how these ground his interpretation of religion. Based on this view, I show, second, that while religion is, for Nietzsche, a historical perspective, it is also, for him, part of the historical genealogy of secularity. This point leads to my final one on the relationship between secularity and religion in Nietzsche’s thought, where I argue that, on his own terms, Nietzsche’s anti-Christianity is a hyper-Christianity, even while rejecting facets of Christianity.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Otherwise than Laïcité? Toward an Agonistic Secularism in LevinasMark Cauchi (bio)Levinas and SecularismAlong with the so-called “return of the religious” in contemporary Western philosophy and politics, there has been a renewed effort in recent years to rethink secularism, the political doctrine of the separation of religion and politics.1 It would not be difficult to show that Emmanuel Levinas has been a substantial force in the resurgence of interest in religion among philosophers, but his impact on thinking about secularism is less evident. Part of the reason for this uncertainty, and part of the reason it is not taken up by scholars, is doubtless the fact that Levinas’s conception of secularism is difficult to discern.2 Although he often discusses religion, politics, and even their relationship, he rarely addresses the question of secularism directly. He certainly uses the term laïcité, and, especially in Difficult Freedom, often discusses both the place of Judaism in secular society and what he calls the “Christian atmosphere” of modernity, but he never articulates, either here or elsewhere, a complete account of the concept.In addition to the paucity of Levinas’s writings on secularism, a further difficulty is that what Levinas does say about secularism can often seem contradictory and unclear. Consider, for example, his view [End Page 187] of the most basic issue of secularism: the separation of church and state. Is such a separation wholly compatible with Levinas’s thinking? On the one hand, Levinas is unambiguous about his endorsement of the separation. He writes in “How Is Judaism Possible?” (1959) that the separation “is the citadel that protects us [French Jews] against injustice,” and therefore that “we must beware of tampering with it.” And yet, as he will immediately add, the “luminous and incontestable formula” separating church and state must be given “its best content,” as if in its common understanding it does not possess its best meaning (DF 245). This specific double move, where he simultaneously endorses and criticizes the separation of church and state, is indicative of Levinas’s more general attitude from the 1950s onward toward the whole of the standard liberal conception of secularism.What I mean by the latter conception will be fleshed out in the following sections, but it can be defined now, in a preliminary fashion, as the entire liberal enterprise of creating a culturally neutral state and public sphere for the sake of protecting the rights and liberties of the individual citizen. Because the individual citizen is defined as possessing the right to, or liberty of, thought, expression, and association—all of which together, in effect, produce freedom of religion, whether explicitly proclaimed or not—the state and public sphere must be constituted in particular ways to guarantee these liberties; in particular, they must be culturally neutralized so that any citizen, from whichever cultural background, can participate in public institutions without bias and thus without the violation of their liberties. Such neutralization is achieved by the reciprocal move wherein participants in these institutions—that is to say, individual citizens—are not allowed to bring their cultural frameworks with them into the constitutions and operations of these institutions, leading to the so-called privatization of religion.Because Levinas criticizes this model of secularism while seeming to endorse some notion of it, what I would like to do in this essay is to determine what is precisely Levinas’s criticism of secularism and, in addition, what a “Levinasian secularism” might be. My central contention will be that the latter (Levinasian secularism) is not equivalent [End Page 188] to the former (his stated views about secularism). The reason for this discrepancy is that Levinas critiques standard liberal secularism on the basis of his more general philosophy of ethical alterity, but then reinstates liberal secularism (or an unspecified version of it) as the best way to protect institutionally ethical alterity. This double movement raises the question, how can ethical alterity at once be consistent and inconsistent with liberal secularism? The question is naturally related to the much-discussed one about the relation of ethics and politics in Levinas’s thinking. Levinas’s approach to the latter relation is consistently...

In recent continental philosophy of religion there has been significant attention paid to the Abrahamic doctrines of creation ex nihilo and divine omnipotence, especially by deconstructive thinkers such as Derrida, Caputo, and Keller. For these thinkers, the doctrine represents a form of agency that does violence to various forms of alterity. While broadly supportive of their fundamental philosophical and ethico-political views, especially about the primordiality of alterity, I differ from them in that I argue that creation ex nihilo articulates the very structure of the alterity they are concerned with. The essay proceeds through a reading of Derrida’s representation of the doctrine and a “deconstruction” of his view by means of a reading of Augustine and Anselm.

Much philosophy of the last few decades has witnessed a turn toward otherness and a corresponding calling into question of the autonomy of the agent. In my paper I attempt to re-conceive what agency is in light of this emphasis placed on otherness. I undertake this reconsideration through an analysis of the concepts of unconditionality in Kant and of conditioning by the other in Levinas. Through these analyses I arrive at a new concept: the unconditioning of the agent by the other. I then provide some description of this concept by considering the interpretation of the theological concept of creation in Augustine, Kant, and Levinas.

Using Kierkegaard’s birthday as my starting point, my essay contends that in order to celebrate Kierkegaard’s birth we have to bring him into our present age, which task involves understanding how his thought is related to modernity. I first explain how, from Kierkegaard’s point of view, any celebration risks being mere celebrity and nostalgia, and discuss the conception of temporality that Kierkegaard identifies as undergirding both concepts. To counteract the temporality of celebrity and nostalgia, I next argue that we must begin with the fact of Kierkegaard’s death and absence from our present age and establish, through an “unconditioned relation to the unconditioned,” a relationship of contemporaneity with him. Regarding Kierkegaard as a contemporary requires understanding his relationship to modernity and the present age and thus requires a critique of his own critique of modernity. I conclude by acknowledging the problems and questions regarding the relationship between religion and secularism, for Kierkegaard and for ourselves, which result from situating Kierkegaard in modernity.