Preliminary note: There is nothing necessarily sexual in Diotima’s Eros. If you want to know more, read Plato’s Symposium, the Song of Songs, the Definition of Literature post, or there are a great deal of other similar things that you might find profitable.
“The greatest philosopher is unable to grasp the being of a single fly.”
--St. Thomas Aquinas
To which we respond, “how is this quote true?,” a question that includes “what does it mean, how do we prove it, and what are we missing in our knowledge?
There is one obvious answer: existence is a mystery for two reasons:
A. Each individual being is linked to the whole of reality by at least God’s creative act. But God, one of the causes of the thing known is infinite and unknowable. Therefore, nothing is completely knowable.
B. Existence itself is a mystery. It cannot be given an essential definition. To one who looks long and hard enough (and I know this from sense and phenomenological experience), existence elicts a sense of wonder, even from things well-known. And wonder implies ignorance (Josef Pieper).
a. “There is an is!” –G.K. Chesterton.
b. “Why should there be being, and not nothing?” --Martin Heidegger
Essence is also a mystery, or at least an ultimately undefinable, analogous to the mystery revealed by the Fallacy of the Perfect Dictionary.
In the art of logic, the clearest knowledge of a thing includes an “Essential Definition.” One who knows a thing by essential definition knows the type of thing (genus) that it is as well as that which separates this kind of thing (species) from other species of the same type necessarily and always (specific difference). For example, the essential definition of square is “A rectangle with all sides equal.” Rectangle is the genus, all sides equal is the specific difference, square is the species.
What is missing from an essential definition? What is not grasped? When one knows a thing, the mental representation of what the thing is is in the intellect. What the thing actually is, not just the representation, is in the thing itself, and in the Mind of God, for God knows all things as maker. For true and complete knowledge, it seems that an essential definition is incomplete.
Consider an angel. Each angel is, in itself, a species. This means that the “what-it-is” is identical to the individual angel (this is different from, say, an orange, where what the orange is is different from the individual orange). If the essential definition of this angel were equivalent to having the what-it-is of the angel in the mind, than everyone who knew the essential definition would have the angel in their mind, which is absurd. Therefore, there are cases where an essential definition is not complete knowledge of an essence (the essence is the what-it-is).
With material things, one can never completely know the particular, because this would imply that the particular is in the intellect. But an intellect that knows oranges obviously does not have real oranges in it.
Even with essences of material things, the so-called “essential definition” can never be known to be complete knowledge. What an essential definition does is say “Everything with genus A and specific difference B is a C.” This statement is known to conform with what C is. The idea that every C necessarily is genus A with difference B does not imply that every C only necessarily is genus A with difference B. Because the idea in the mind that is the essential definition is not the cause of what C is (the cause of what C is is the essence of C, that to which the definition conforms), the essential definition is knowledge that provides a perfect test for C’s essence, but is not necessarily identical to C’s essence.
Hence, intellectual knowledge has been shown to be possibly insufficient. Therefore, we can justifiably investigate the knowledge gained through the Eros loved by Diotima.
Showing posts with label Encyclopedia "D". Show all posts
Showing posts with label Encyclopedia "D". Show all posts
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
The Metaphysical Bases of Apollonian and Dionisian
“Whether the Supreme Ecstasy is more affectional than intellectual is no very deadly matter of quarrel among men who believe it is both.”
--G.K. Chesterton, Saint Thomas Aquinas
There’s a great and stunning, but also commonsensical, revelation in the quote above: the idea that both contemplation and desire/fulfillment are routes to, and experiences of God. This is not the time, place, or writer to detail how this is done, or which way is more effective for human beings (do both!) but as for their place in art…that’s another matter. Placing the word art in a topic automatically makes it fit for this blog. Hee Hee!
I am one of those troublesome sorts of people who doesn’t really think I understand a thing until I can give it some sort of metaphysical classification. As far as I can tell, all sorts of things seem to fall into three broad categories. Two are fairly simple. First comes those things that really are, things like cows, iron, et cetera. Then comes those things that are only when they come in contact with other things, things like the emotional content in a piece of music, colors, proportions, et cetera.
Finally, and most difficultly, come those things that are a little bit of both, or “fuzzy things.” A good example is the Idea of Large. “Larger” means something, and “Smaller” means something, but “Large” and “Small” are completely relative. To call a thing “Large” is meaningless, except in comparison to something else.
Unfortunately, it is easy to mistake the things in the second or third categories for real things. When I listen to a sad piece of music, for example, I would be foolish to say that the music is actually sad: no misfortune has happened in the music, and music does not actually feel sad. What I mean when I say the music is sad really means that I am sad because of the music. When I can’t solve the Sorites paradox, I mistake a thing in the third category for something real (read, and attempt to solve, the Sorites paradox here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sorites_paradox If you can‘t solve it, ask for my solution.).
Which category do the affective (art as a means for awakening/fulfilling desire) and contemplative (art as an intellectual exercise) artistic qualities fall into? It must exist in one of them. Here’s why:
Everything that exists is either in the mind of the thinker, or not in the mind of the thinker (category 1).
Everything that exists in the mind of the thinker either is a successful subject of the Sorites paradox (more on this later, but this is category 3) or it is not (category 2).
Because of human nature, it is tempting to classify art on a Category 3-esque contemplative vs. affective scale (I will, from now on, use the philosophical terminology: “Apollonian” for Intellectually-disposed things, and Dionysian for affective/desire disposed things See Robert Wood‘s chapter on Plato for evidence that this usage is correct) , and make statements like “This work is more Dionysian than Apollonian” or “This work is more Dionysian than that work.” This is because, for humans (and Vulcans) desire can cloud our thinking and thought weaken our desires. How many of us have had the experience of liking something less because we had to study it?
It is also tempting to place the two in Category 2. This is perhaps the simplest explanation. If something stimulates my mind, it is Apollonian. If something stimulates my desire, it is Dionisian. And if it stimulates both, it is both.
And I, of course, am always tempted to put as much as possible into category 1, because it’s the most objective of the three. I don’t want to know what a thing is through a lens of subjectivity (category 2) or as a mere illusion (category 3). But which one is it really? And what’s the big deal?
We can effectively eliminate Category 3 from our discussion by means of the Sorites paradox. Oh wait…I probably had better tell you what that is.
The Sorites Paradox:
Consider a heap of sand. If you remove one grain, is it still a heap? How about two? How about three? How about…..?
Although the subject of the paradox is the heap of sand, it does not need to be a heap of sand. Any number of things will do. The keys to a successful subject of the Sorites paradox is that the subject’s existence must be a matter of degree, not type, and that the two qualities that are the matter of degree must be a positive and a negative, not two positives. For example, “Functional Pancreas” is not a successful subject because if you remove a certain number of molecules (the number might vary from pancreas to pancreas, but will still be a definite number), the pancreas will no longer be able to function. “Red material object” is also not a successful subject because insofar as something is not red, it is another color, and the object remains a red object percentage-wise (gaining another quality percentage-wise as well, such as green) insofar as it is even partially red.
Apollonian or Dionysian in a work of art does not fulfill the Sorites paradox. Although it may be the case that often by removing Apollonianness, Dionysianness increases (and vice versa), this is not always the case. If I compose a desire-awakening melody (the object of the desire is not important for the example, so long as it is not desire for the Apollonian), for example, it does not necessarily become less desire-awakening by being made into a fugue.
Therefore, the qualities of Apollonian and Dionysian belong in Category 1, Category 2, or both. This places them within the realm of “verifiables,” things which can be precisely defined. What is their precise definition? How can we render them to be more than general atmospheres?
The ultimate definition is a definition in metaphysical terms. The metaphysical definition of fish, for example, is that which has the essence of fish. Of course, then a definition of essence of fish is required. Contrast this example with another metaphysical definition: “Sad music is that which causes emotions with the essence of sadness to be provoked in the listener.” The metaphysical definitions tell us which category the thing falls in. Fish, where fish is defined by essence of fish, is a Category 1 thing, whilce Sad music, where
Chesterton’s quote gives a clue for a Category 1 definition of Apollonian and Dionysian by stating that the Vision of God is both Apollonian and Dionysian. God, of course, is Existence Itself. What is perhaps less known about God is that He also contains within Himself the “originals” of the essences (an essence is the whatness of a thing) of all things as well. (The proof of this is beyond the scope of this post, but it’s in the Summa, trust me. It‘s also in the “Writing Rules For Atheists” post, rendered into heroic couplets.) Because all existent things must have essence and existence, it would make sense if it were possible to define Apollonian and Dionysian in terms of essence and existence.
As was stated above, the Apollonian concerns itself with intellect, culminating in the Beatific Vision, while the Dionysian concerns itself with desire, culminating in the Beatific Union. It is in the nature for desire to desire existent beings: things like food, water, pleasure, and the like. Even objects of desire like Dragons fall under this category: one who desires a dragon desires a dragon to exist, desires to bring into existence the perfect subjective/literary dragon, etc. Intellect, however, observes and thinks. The most fundamental observation of the intellect is “Things exist.” This statement requires the observation of things and existence and an intuitive knowledge that things are different from existence. Additionally, the intellect can think of essence without existence and existence without essence, as when one thinks of a unicorn or Prime Matter. Therefore, in terms of essence and existence, intellect “takes apart,” while desire “puts together.”
Dionysian art, therefore, emphasizes the union of essence and existence in things, while Apollonian art emphasizes the essence and existence separately. The increase of one does not necessarily mean the decrease of the other. St. Peter’s Basillica, for example, obviously emphasizes the union of essence and existence in things by its overabundance of things more than a simple building that used the same amount of material. However, this does not downplay either the symmetry (akin to essence) or immensity (akin to existence) of St. Peter’s compared to the hypothetical building. I do not know if this emphasis on the togetherness/separateness of essence and existence can be achieved objectively (and thus be Category 1), but the point is that it can be achieved and defined as either Category 1or category 2. (It does seem to me that an increase in complexity is objectively Dionysian, while an increase in size + symmetry is objectively Apollonian.) The Baroque is not necessarily irrational; the Renaissance is not necessarily cold, unfeeling and unsatisfactory. As both are beautiful, the artist will do well to use both simultaneously.
--G.K. Chesterton, Saint Thomas Aquinas
There’s a great and stunning, but also commonsensical, revelation in the quote above: the idea that both contemplation and desire/fulfillment are routes to, and experiences of God. This is not the time, place, or writer to detail how this is done, or which way is more effective for human beings (do both!) but as for their place in art…that’s another matter. Placing the word art in a topic automatically makes it fit for this blog. Hee Hee!
I am one of those troublesome sorts of people who doesn’t really think I understand a thing until I can give it some sort of metaphysical classification. As far as I can tell, all sorts of things seem to fall into three broad categories. Two are fairly simple. First comes those things that really are, things like cows, iron, et cetera. Then comes those things that are only when they come in contact with other things, things like the emotional content in a piece of music, colors, proportions, et cetera.
Finally, and most difficultly, come those things that are a little bit of both, or “fuzzy things.” A good example is the Idea of Large. “Larger” means something, and “Smaller” means something, but “Large” and “Small” are completely relative. To call a thing “Large” is meaningless, except in comparison to something else.
Unfortunately, it is easy to mistake the things in the second or third categories for real things. When I listen to a sad piece of music, for example, I would be foolish to say that the music is actually sad: no misfortune has happened in the music, and music does not actually feel sad. What I mean when I say the music is sad really means that I am sad because of the music. When I can’t solve the Sorites paradox, I mistake a thing in the third category for something real (read, and attempt to solve, the Sorites paradox here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sorites_paradox If you can‘t solve it, ask for my solution.).
Which category do the affective (art as a means for awakening/fulfilling desire) and contemplative (art as an intellectual exercise) artistic qualities fall into? It must exist in one of them. Here’s why:
Everything that exists is either in the mind of the thinker, or not in the mind of the thinker (category 1).
Everything that exists in the mind of the thinker either is a successful subject of the Sorites paradox (more on this later, but this is category 3) or it is not (category 2).
Because of human nature, it is tempting to classify art on a Category 3-esque contemplative vs. affective scale (I will, from now on, use the philosophical terminology: “Apollonian” for Intellectually-disposed things, and Dionysian for affective/desire disposed things See Robert Wood‘s chapter on Plato for evidence that this usage is correct) , and make statements like “This work is more Dionysian than Apollonian” or “This work is more Dionysian than that work.” This is because, for humans (and Vulcans) desire can cloud our thinking and thought weaken our desires. How many of us have had the experience of liking something less because we had to study it?
It is also tempting to place the two in Category 2. This is perhaps the simplest explanation. If something stimulates my mind, it is Apollonian. If something stimulates my desire, it is Dionisian. And if it stimulates both, it is both.
And I, of course, am always tempted to put as much as possible into category 1, because it’s the most objective of the three. I don’t want to know what a thing is through a lens of subjectivity (category 2) or as a mere illusion (category 3). But which one is it really? And what’s the big deal?
We can effectively eliminate Category 3 from our discussion by means of the Sorites paradox. Oh wait…I probably had better tell you what that is.
The Sorites Paradox:
Consider a heap of sand. If you remove one grain, is it still a heap? How about two? How about three? How about…..?
Although the subject of the paradox is the heap of sand, it does not need to be a heap of sand. Any number of things will do. The keys to a successful subject of the Sorites paradox is that the subject’s existence must be a matter of degree, not type, and that the two qualities that are the matter of degree must be a positive and a negative, not two positives. For example, “Functional Pancreas” is not a successful subject because if you remove a certain number of molecules (the number might vary from pancreas to pancreas, but will still be a definite number), the pancreas will no longer be able to function. “Red material object” is also not a successful subject because insofar as something is not red, it is another color, and the object remains a red object percentage-wise (gaining another quality percentage-wise as well, such as green) insofar as it is even partially red.
Apollonian or Dionysian in a work of art does not fulfill the Sorites paradox. Although it may be the case that often by removing Apollonianness, Dionysianness increases (and vice versa), this is not always the case. If I compose a desire-awakening melody (the object of the desire is not important for the example, so long as it is not desire for the Apollonian), for example, it does not necessarily become less desire-awakening by being made into a fugue.
Therefore, the qualities of Apollonian and Dionysian belong in Category 1, Category 2, or both. This places them within the realm of “verifiables,” things which can be precisely defined. What is their precise definition? How can we render them to be more than general atmospheres?
The ultimate definition is a definition in metaphysical terms. The metaphysical definition of fish, for example, is that which has the essence of fish. Of course, then a definition of essence of fish is required. Contrast this example with another metaphysical definition: “Sad music is that which causes emotions with the essence of sadness to be provoked in the listener.” The metaphysical definitions tell us which category the thing falls in. Fish, where fish is defined by essence of fish, is a Category 1 thing, whilce Sad music, where
Chesterton’s quote gives a clue for a Category 1 definition of Apollonian and Dionysian by stating that the Vision of God is both Apollonian and Dionysian. God, of course, is Existence Itself. What is perhaps less known about God is that He also contains within Himself the “originals” of the essences (an essence is the whatness of a thing) of all things as well. (The proof of this is beyond the scope of this post, but it’s in the Summa, trust me. It‘s also in the “Writing Rules For Atheists” post, rendered into heroic couplets.) Because all existent things must have essence and existence, it would make sense if it were possible to define Apollonian and Dionysian in terms of essence and existence.
As was stated above, the Apollonian concerns itself with intellect, culminating in the Beatific Vision, while the Dionysian concerns itself with desire, culminating in the Beatific Union. It is in the nature for desire to desire existent beings: things like food, water, pleasure, and the like. Even objects of desire like Dragons fall under this category: one who desires a dragon desires a dragon to exist, desires to bring into existence the perfect subjective/literary dragon, etc. Intellect, however, observes and thinks. The most fundamental observation of the intellect is “Things exist.” This statement requires the observation of things and existence and an intuitive knowledge that things are different from existence. Additionally, the intellect can think of essence without existence and existence without essence, as when one thinks of a unicorn or Prime Matter. Therefore, in terms of essence and existence, intellect “takes apart,” while desire “puts together.”
Dionysian art, therefore, emphasizes the union of essence and existence in things, while Apollonian art emphasizes the essence and existence separately. The increase of one does not necessarily mean the decrease of the other. St. Peter’s Basillica, for example, obviously emphasizes the union of essence and existence in things by its overabundance of things more than a simple building that used the same amount of material. However, this does not downplay either the symmetry (akin to essence) or immensity (akin to existence) of St. Peter’s compared to the hypothetical building. I do not know if this emphasis on the togetherness/separateness of essence and existence can be achieved objectively (and thus be Category 1), but the point is that it can be achieved and defined as either Category 1or category 2. (It does seem to me that an increase in complexity is objectively Dionysian, while an increase in size + symmetry is objectively Apollonian.) The Baroque is not necessarily irrational; the Renaissance is not necessarily cold, unfeeling and unsatisfactory. As both are beautiful, the artist will do well to use both simultaneously.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Diotima
So I’m sure you all know by now that this blog is called Disciples of Diotima. It is a subtle compliment to me for you to be so trusting of me as to be looking at it without knowing a great deal about the woman, or what her ideas were (alright, I had one very short post on it a while back). Eventually, all of you really ought to be a little curious about this. I certainly am! So, what does Diotima actually say about beauty?
Diotima is mentioned by Socrates in the famous philosophical dialogue the Symposium, a dialogue that deals with love and beauty. Socrates, who, though he called himself an annoying gadfly, was evidently liked well enough to be invited to banquets, speaks after several other speakers. Asked to give speeches In praise of love, the first few detail and praise numerous desires. Stating that he speaks what he thinks is true about love (as opposed to merely praising it with half-truths) and saying that he gained his wisdom from the woman Diotima, Socrates gives a radically expanded definition of love, including within it (as far as I can remember) all forms of human desire and attraction, including but not limited to friendship, hunger, and romance (Agape, Christian and Divine love, is understandably not, included; love is even “proven” to show that the beloved has something the lover lacks, which cannot be the case in Divine Agape).
The part we are concerned with, however, is one of the most central statements of desire. Diotima says that what humans most desire is “Birth in Beauty, whether of body or soul.” Furthermore, she paints the birth of one’s own children as a type of this most-desired birth, and also says that all that is desired [loved] must be good. What does this mean for beauty?
The sensible listeners in Socrates’s time could have inferred a few things. Drunkenness and other sins, obviously not beautiful, will not fulfill the greatest desire; the making of things: children, the Parthenon, poetry, ourselves, is much closer. And these things must be good things, or they will not satisfy the desire. But this sort of inference gives no definition of the noun “beauty” as distinct from the noun goodness, only a definition of the phrase “birth in beauty.” What the phrase would mean (unless it meant goodness) if the “birth in” were removed is unclear.
Another method of analysis only confirms the near-equivalence between beauty and goodness. In his Ethics, Aristotle teaches us that the object of our greatest desire is happiness, which consists in contemplation of (and, for the Christian, loving of and union with) the Good. If Diotima is not to contradict Aristotle, beauty and goodness must be more or less equivalent.
Then why is beauty associated with making in the Symposium, while goodness is not? Perhaps it is because when we make a thing for its own sake (such as a poem) we are concerned more with seeing of the goodness of the perfection of the thing than we are with things that we did not make. Language sufficient to get an idea across is good, a poem about the same idea is closer to perfect because we make it with care; emphasis is on the making of the thing in addition to the thing.
This coincides with Aquinas’ definition of beauty as well as the word’s common usage. Aquinas says:
“ Beauty and goodness in a thing are identical
fundamentally; for they are based upon the same thing, namely, the
form; and consequently goodness is praised as beauty. But they differ
logically, for goodness properly relates to the appetite (goodness
being what all things desire); and therefore it has the aspect of an
end (the appetite being a kind of movement towards a thing). On the
other hand, beauty relates to the cognitive faculty; for beautiful
things are those which please when seen.”
If the things were not made especially to approach perfection, why would they please us when seen in any special way? Take this example from common experience:
Consider that sort of rock that is called a Potato Stone. On the outside, it looks like a potato, but on the inside, it is filled with shining agate. Both are good, as both exist, but the inside is more beautiful than the outside because it is more obviously made to be special and perfect by God. The outside is just as Divinely fashioned, but this is not obvious, it cannot be seen.
In conclusion: Diotima coincides with Aquinas. Is she not a good person for us to be disciples of?
Diotima is mentioned by Socrates in the famous philosophical dialogue the Symposium, a dialogue that deals with love and beauty. Socrates, who, though he called himself an annoying gadfly, was evidently liked well enough to be invited to banquets, speaks after several other speakers. Asked to give speeches In praise of love, the first few detail and praise numerous desires. Stating that he speaks what he thinks is true about love (as opposed to merely praising it with half-truths) and saying that he gained his wisdom from the woman Diotima, Socrates gives a radically expanded definition of love, including within it (as far as I can remember) all forms of human desire and attraction, including but not limited to friendship, hunger, and romance (Agape, Christian and Divine love, is understandably not, included; love is even “proven” to show that the beloved has something the lover lacks, which cannot be the case in Divine Agape).
The part we are concerned with, however, is one of the most central statements of desire. Diotima says that what humans most desire is “Birth in Beauty, whether of body or soul.” Furthermore, she paints the birth of one’s own children as a type of this most-desired birth, and also says that all that is desired [loved] must be good. What does this mean for beauty?
The sensible listeners in Socrates’s time could have inferred a few things. Drunkenness and other sins, obviously not beautiful, will not fulfill the greatest desire; the making of things: children, the Parthenon, poetry, ourselves, is much closer. And these things must be good things, or they will not satisfy the desire. But this sort of inference gives no definition of the noun “beauty” as distinct from the noun goodness, only a definition of the phrase “birth in beauty.” What the phrase would mean (unless it meant goodness) if the “birth in” were removed is unclear.
Another method of analysis only confirms the near-equivalence between beauty and goodness. In his Ethics, Aristotle teaches us that the object of our greatest desire is happiness, which consists in contemplation of (and, for the Christian, loving of and union with) the Good. If Diotima is not to contradict Aristotle, beauty and goodness must be more or less equivalent.
Then why is beauty associated with making in the Symposium, while goodness is not? Perhaps it is because when we make a thing for its own sake (such as a poem) we are concerned more with seeing of the goodness of the perfection of the thing than we are with things that we did not make. Language sufficient to get an idea across is good, a poem about the same idea is closer to perfect because we make it with care; emphasis is on the making of the thing in addition to the thing.
This coincides with Aquinas’ definition of beauty as well as the word’s common usage. Aquinas says:
“ Beauty and goodness in a thing are identical
fundamentally; for they are based upon the same thing, namely, the
form; and consequently goodness is praised as beauty. But they differ
logically, for goodness properly relates to the appetite (goodness
being what all things desire); and therefore it has the aspect of an
end (the appetite being a kind of movement towards a thing). On the
other hand, beauty relates to the cognitive faculty; for beautiful
things are those which please when seen.”
If the things were not made especially to approach perfection, why would they please us when seen in any special way? Take this example from common experience:
Consider that sort of rock that is called a Potato Stone. On the outside, it looks like a potato, but on the inside, it is filled with shining agate. Both are good, as both exist, but the inside is more beautiful than the outside because it is more obviously made to be special and perfect by God. The outside is just as Divinely fashioned, but this is not obvious, it cannot be seen.
In conclusion: Diotima coincides with Aquinas. Is she not a good person for us to be disciples of?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)