Paul S. Miklowitz

In this dissertation, the consequences implicit in Hegel's metaphysical strategy of retrospective, phenomenological reconstruction are traced through to their coming to self-consciousness in Nietzsche's central "metafiction" of Zarathustra. ;Hegel leaves a problematic legacy to post-historical philosophers, having achieved comprehensive philosophic wisdom in "absolute knowing;" Nietzsche responds by undermining the authority of the philosopher. Metaphysical questions are reformulated and resolved in narratives self-consciously mediated by irony: they become "metafictions," philosophic imperatives that expressly acknowledge their own createdness and call into question their universality. ;A new interpretation of the Phenomenology is developed in the process of re-thinking this textual history that shows how narrative structures, which Hegel disavows, are skillfully manipulated nevertheless. Careful readings of the sense-certainty, lordship and bondage and absolute knowing dialectics reveal significant connections between the metaphysical scope of Hegel's account and his narrative manner of accounting. The final chapter focuses on Thus Spoke Zarathustra in order to show, through a new interpretation of "eternal return" in light of the problematic character of repetition intrinsic to the narrative structure of metaphysical illumination, how Nietzsche's project should serve philosophy not as a source of doctrine, but as an exemplary experiment in metafiction

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Evil in Modern Thought: An Alternative History of PhilosophyPaul S. MiklowitzSusan Neiman. Evil in Modern Thought: An Alternative History of Philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2002. Pp. xii + 358. Cloth, $29.95.Contemporary philosophy in America tends to regard epistemological questions as the most fundamental of the discipline, but Susan Neiman's Evil in Modern Thought sets itself against this assumption in an attempt to sketch "an alternative history of philosophy." "It's possible to begin to worry about the difference between appearance and reality because... a dream is so vivid that you want to grasp one of its objects for a moment or two of sleepy half-consciousness," Neiman writes, but then "you wake up in your bed, slap your face if you have to... " (5). The problem of evil, in stark contrast to such skeptical speculations, is far more urgent and trenchant; it is "the place where philosophy begins, and threatens to stop" (ibid.). Moreover, the problem of evil, far from being merely a theological quandary, actually forms a link between metaphysics and epistemology by starkly posing questions about the intelligibility of the world: Why are things like that? wants the answer Because it's best that way. For the early modern period, these questions centered on the "theodicy" debates focused by the catastrophic Lisbon earthquake of 1755, while for us the holocaust threatens to explode all our hopes and expectations for the possibility of a world that is as it should be. Thus, Lisbon and Auschwitz frame for Neiman the historical topoi that ground discussion of the relation between natural and moral evils, the evolving philosophical understanding of which defines "who we have become in the three centuries that separate us from the early Enlightenment" (10).The problem of theodicy is introduced through the figure of Alfonso X, king of Castille in 1252, and "the first Enlightenment hero" (14), according to Neiman. Having studied astronomy under the guidance of learned Jews from Toledo, Alfonso scandalously remarked "If I had been of God's counsel at the Creation, many things would have been ordered better" (15). Serving as a paradigm of blasphemy for half a millennium, Alfonso's boast also expresses the inevitable dismay that must accompany the delighted wonder at natural order exploited by the argument from design: while Creation is surely miraculous in its manifestation of seemingly intelligent structure, it is just as surely astonishing that so much of that structure seems so wantonly destructive. Can this really be the best of all possible worlds if innocent lives are cut short by cruel diseases or natural disasters while vicious villains prosper into comfortable old age?! Alfonso's remark serves Neiman as a leitmotif around which she orders central figures in the canon of western philosophy into two camps: those who struggled to reconcile natural evil with God's goodness or with reason (Leibniz, Pope, Rousseau, Kant, Hegel and Marx), and those who skeptically condemned reason by appealing to "brute appearances" (Bayle, Voltaire, Hume, Sade and Schopenhauer). Because the very categories of natural and moral evil tend to break down as a result of the development of psychology as a "science of nature" (to the extent that human motives are regarded as natural processes subject to empirical explanation, they cease to manifest a unique ontology), Nietzsche and Freud fall outside the philosophical canon thus construed—although Neiman's discussion of these two thinkers is perhaps the most compelling of the book.No new interpretive ground is broken in the resulting exegesis of western philosophical history, but Neiman's treatment of each of these figures is intelligent and skillful. In discussing Kant, for example, a deep paradox at the center of his moral thought is brilliantly harnessed to the book's argument. Whereas theodicies from Leibniz onward had focused on attempts to show that Providence ultimately guaranteed a connection between virtue and happiness despite obvious evidence to the contrary, Kant took exactly the opposite tack. As Neiman puts it, "Solving the problem of evil is not only impossible but immoral. For knowing the connections between moral and natural evils would undermine the possibility of morality" (69). If we could be sure that good deeds...

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Journal of the History of Philosophy 42.2 (2004) 226-227 [Access article in PDF] Will Dudley. Hegel, Nietzsche and Philosophy: Thinking Freedom. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2002. Pp. xvii + 326. Cloth, $60.00. Clear and concise statements are among the virtues of Hegel, Nietzsche and Philosophy: Thinking Freedom, beginning with its title. The book develops an account of human freedom through close attention to Hegel's and Nietzsche's thinking. That account affirms philosophy as a liberating activity that makes freedom ever more "comprehensive" by overcoming external constraints, both actual and theoretical. Hegel takes the project of realizing freedom over from Kant, who had himself advanced it beyond the legacy of "liberalism," and Nietzsche is read here as advancing beyond Hegel's perspective. A very considerable clarification of the structure and content of Hegel's thought about freedom is offered in the first four chapters, and many plausible imputations are made in the second four that illuminate important dimensions of Nietzsche's work. Finally, the role of philosophy as liberating activity is revealed in both "systems," albeit in very different conceptions of what that philosophical activity is like.The greatest strength of the book lies in its erudite and lucid unpacking of Hegel's adamantine thought. Abstract expositions of arguments are often accompanied by helpful examples taken from simple, familiar contexts. Unfortunately, the scope of this review is entirely inadequate to even a summary account of the many dialectics which Dudley reveals [End Page 226] in structural transparency, from the freedom of willing in the Philosophy of Right to freedom beyond willing in absolute Spirit. The body of this book contributes an excellent new commentary on Hegel's conception of freedom, while in his footnotes Dudley offers a rich counterpoint to his own themes in frequently lengthy excurses on much of the relevant literature.However, although Dudley notes at the outset (10-11) that Hegel's and Nietzsche's styles are so different as to require a different style of interpretive treatment, he seems to have forgotten this promise by the time he reaches his discussion of Nietzsche. Instead, Dudley breaks arguments down into their various elements, revealing symmetries to obtain between and among these, in the service of a quasi-dialectical method that sees Nietzsche's thought advance by overcoming its own internal inadequacies. Such a method of analysis seems well suited to Hegel, but it is less persuasive in treating Nietzsche's much more amorphous work, especially as any chronological approach to Nietzsche, which might ground such a developmental claim, is explicitly eschewed. Frequent extended quotation of Nietzsche throughout makes that incongruity of styles particularly strident.Dudley's admittedly Hegelian reading (176) of Nietzsche describes an arc of development in strategies for obtaining freedom: from the enslavement to simple material needs in "disgregation" (a coinage of Werner Hamacher's, apparently, who is cited, but not as the source of this term), through the partial freedom of the moral will, to the self-determined noble will, which itself is aufgehoben by the tragic will. The dynamics of this process are complicated, and laying them out constitutes the lion's share of the analysis. One must forge one's own will, we read, by "giving birth to oneself as a living whole," something accomplished by "integrating the chaos that results from the destruction of the moral will." This feat of "integration" is itself first accomplished by giving oneself "customs" which, however, soon become a new form of unfreedom; what ultimately is needed is "a complementary combination of nobility and modernity, of setting oneself apart from and holding oneself open to the chaotic stimuli beyond one's measure" (177). These are just the barest bones on which Dudley hangs a lot of flesh—not all of which appears natural there. Dudley articulates Nietzsche's ideas in sentences like these: "Recall that the sovereign, noble will is the offspring of the genius of giving birth applied by the individual to herself. Now the transformative destruction of this will results from such a reflexive application of the genius of impregnation; the individual transgresses...

When reading Hegel, as it is a commonplace to observe, one is nearly always struck by an awesome and somehow pregnant ambiguity which no amount of study succeeds in completely dispelling, but which one gradually develops a knack for “interpreting” more or less coherently. Even Hegel’s commentators seem to face this problem: as J. N. Findlay puts it, “one at times [is] only sure that he [Hegel] is saying something immeasurably profound and important, but not exactly what it is.” Accordingly, to read Hegel is necessarily to engage in an exercise of interpretation and, to the extent that “interpretation” is understood as a reasoned but ultimately subjective reduction, writing about Hegel has provoked an unusual number of apologies for providing yet another “reading.”