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Martin HeideggerA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
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Chapter 1 of Division 2 intended to show that Dasein’s authenticity and being-towards-a-whole is theoretically possible. This was done with an analysis of being-towards-death and its individualizing power. However, a problem remains. While an authentic relation to death allows us to escape the they, there is still the question of how we reach that state in the first place. In Heidegger’s terminology, we have demonstrated the ontological possibility of authentic life but not its “existentiell” or “ontic” possibility. That is, we have not shown what in actual reality can motivate or move us to that relation necessary to authenticity. This is especially pressing given what he has ruled out, for, as seen, he does not believe that any factually occurring death, or grief, can play this role. Equally, “brooding over death” (305), and reflecting on it, will not get us there. Nor will “forcing any such ideal upon it ‘from the outside’” (311). Authenticity will not be achieved by holding it up as a virtue we ought to pursue.
So, there must be something else. Heidegger thinks he has identified it with the “call of conscience.” If the they is defined by constant idle chatter, preventing us from hearing ourselves, then conscience can be the force that breaks this off, compelling us to listen once more to ourselves. Conscience is not to be understood along the lines of an other’s voice. It has no linguistic content, nor is it an internal soliloquy. Rather, as Heidegger says, “Conscience discourses solely and constantly in the mode of keeping silent” (318). It refuses specific expressions or utterances. As such, its call is a challenge to the chatter of the they and something that cannot be passed along in idle talk.
Further, Dasein itself does the calling. Conscience does not emerge from some other entity, or from God, although Heidegger does emphasize that the call comes from beyond our ordinary, everyday self and sense of self. This is perhaps why we are often led to interpret conscience in terms of an external or alien voice. It calls against our ordinary expectations, and it is something we have never planned for and cannot voluntarily summon. It is rather a returning of Dasein to awareness of its ontological character as non-being. It is the apprehension of an uncanniness representing the utter defamiliarization of the everyday world.
In the later sections of this chapter, Heidegger tries to address more precisely the form conscience takes, and how we respond to it. He considers as well how is it linked to ordinary conceptions of conscience involving ideas of definitive content and reproaches. As such, he begins by noting how the call of conscience consists in a feeling of guilt. This guilt is usually interpreted in terms of debt. Specifically, it is thought to emerge from a feeling of owing something to another. Heidegger stresses, however, that such a sense of indebtedness is a secondary phenomenon. It is founded on “the character of the ‘not’” (329). That is, it exists on the basis of a more basic and ineluctable sense of absence that underscores our being.
Moreover, Heidegger labels this guilt as “primordial guilt.” It is a guilt arising from the fact that one is fallen in one’s being by being lost in the they. In this way, guilt is a submerged, often covered over, intimation of the failure to be our true selves. It differs fundamentally from the way guilt is understood in the manner of the they. It is not, as in that case, about specific actions and behaviors violating public rules or norms, nor is it about deficiency before some ethical ideal. Indeed, such discourse, and that of “making mistakes,” is precisely a means to avoid fundamental guilt.
Finally, the attitude with which true guilt, and the call of conscience, will come to us is that of “resoluteness.” This term signifies an openness to this experience that nonetheless does not judge what it will demand in advance or attempt to force this experience upon ourselves. In fact, it is impossible to pre-judge conscience according to a pre-existing idea or model because it is radically individual. As Heidegger says, “it does not hold before us some empty ideal of existence, but calls us forth into the Situation” (347). What this means is that it calls us neither to a specific ideal, nor to a hidden inner realm of subjectivity. Rather, the call of conscience invites us into a deeper awareness of our own unique relation to the world. This is a call to see our world again for the first time, but in its true distinctiveness for us, with its illusions, tensions, and uncanniness.
It is difficult to read the second chapter of Division 2 without being struck by its religious overtones. Not only does Heidegger foreground two characteristically Christian pre-occupations, conscience and guilt, but Heidegger he seems to be reformulating an idea of original sin. As he says, entities like Dasein “are guilty in the very basis of their Being” (332). We are guilty prior to having specifically done anything. Further, such guilt is “the existential condition for the possibility of the ‘morally’ good and for that of the ‘morally’ evil” (332). There are two similarities with the Christian fall here. First, we are “fallen,” in the sense of just finding ourselves already inauthentic before any choice on our part, but second, this fallenness and guilt ground and hence are unaffected by any subsequent moral activity. In short, it is not just that our sin is original, given by and with our nature. It is also that we are ostensibly deprived of any normal means by which to begin atoning for it. (For the original reading of Heidegger in this way, see Stephen Mulhall’s 2005 book Philosophical Myths of the Fall).
At this point, Heidegger departs from the Christian narrative. While the theist appeals to faith in God as the means to redemption, Heidegger uses the call of our own conscience. In this sense, any problems lurking around such comparisons seem allayed. If the voice of conscience is indeed a non-supernatural phenomenon, experienceable by any Dasein, divine intervention is not required. Put another way, we might be fallen, but we can get up by ourselves. Nevertheless, doubts linger. Particularly, we may ask whether Heidegger’s ultimate solution to the problem of inauthenticity, despite secular content, ends up using problematic theological ways of thinking, and if so, whether he is in danger of re-enforcing the dominance of the they he claims to oppose.
To address such concerns, it is necessary to examine these features of Heideggerian guilt that maintain a redemptory, or religious, logic. To start, the conception of the escape from the they seems, like Christian redemption, to be all or nothing. We are either saved by the call of conscience, or we are irrevocably, absolutely, damned as inauthentic. There is little space in between. This does not seem to tarry with our experience, however. For example, there are people in the public world of philosophy who are utterly, uncritically absorbed in its structures and how “one” should act. On the other hand, there are individuals who, while not necessarily authentic, exist in a more critical, troubled relationship to the public world of philosophy. Are we really to say they are all equally bad?
This idea does not coincide with some of Heidegger’s own remarks on the subject. For example, he says, in discussing idle talk, “The tempting tranquilization aggravates the falling” (222). If Dasein is capable of falling rather than just having fallen, and this is being aggravated, or getting worse, this implies at the very least degrees of inauthenticity. If true, this would also imply something about the means to achieve it. Namely, it would suggest that we each possess more localized ways to either encourage or fend off absorption in the they. It would suggest that this process does not have to involve some absolute awareness of guilt before the self.
Furthermore, this could still be consistent with Heidegger’s rejection of reflective ethical behavior for this role. For instance, as discussed in Division 1, Chapter 4, more limited experiences of the breakdown of the world could serve this function. What Freud had called the uncanniness of the everyday, odd moments of incongruity or dissonance, could be part of a smaller-scale struggle against the they. Likewise, certain boundary or exceptional experiences might offer this on a grander scale. These are the kinds of things Nietzsche alludes to when he says that authenticity can be achieved “only through the widest—perhaps most disturbing and shattering—experiences” (Nietzsche, Friedrich. Beyond Good and Evil, trans. by R.J. Hollingdale. London: Penguin. 1990). Existentialist philosophers have furnished several examples. Deep solitude, suffering, love, loss, and creation could all play a part in resisting the leveling tendencies of the they.
So, too, in its own way, could a proper response to guilt and conscience, especially if we view conscience as an instigating force complementing a wider set of processes promoting authenticity, rather than as the only or final means for achieving this goal. It is unclear that, alone, it is capable of effectively doing this. This is perhaps why Heidegger in The Fundamental Concepts of Metaphysics (1930), a few years after Being and Time, shifts his attention to the experience of profound boredom. This would represent just such an additional, and alternative, way one can think about encouraging authenticity.
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