Søren Kierkegaard Newsletter — Issue 50: August 2006

Søren Kierkegaard Newsletter — Issue 50: August 2006

Wisdom in Love: Kierkegaard and the Quest for Emotional Integrity

by Rick Anthony Furtak

Notre Dame University Press, 2005. Pp. xii+236.

ISBN 0-268-02873-7

Reviewed by Michael Strawser

University of Central Florida

In his well-known letter written in Gilleleie, on August 1, 1835, Kierkegaard writes: “The first praise always goes to an author for having his own style—that is, a mode of expression and presentation qualified by his own individuality.” Such praise is to be given to Rick Anthony Furtak, for his engaging Wisdom in Love: Kierkegaard and the Quest for Emotional Integrity. Furtak’s voice is clear and genuine in the 141 pages that present his argument that the emotion of love is necessary for human integrity. His writing incorporates impressive research on the emotions, Stoicism, and Kierkegaard. The many sources do not detract from his own style, as is often the case, rather they are neatly woven into his own text and fully identified and explained in the 60 pages of notes that follow the main text. We must add this work to an already impressive list of 21^st century texts emphasizing Kierkegaard’s vision of love.[i]

Wisdom in Love consists of three parts: “Stoicism and its Discontents,” “Structural Corrections,” and “Fundamental Questions.” Thus, Furtak’s comprehensive goal is threefold: first, to describe the ancient position of normative Stoicism, which promises a way to moral integrity, but results in an unsatisfactory dispassionate state of apathy; second, to show how Kierkegaard’s writings present a “passionate alternative” to the Hellenistic approach, and third, to develop, following Kierkegaard, an ontology founded on love that makes possible an “authentic moral life” that is both rational and passionate. Overall, Furtak presents an eloquent argument against Stoicism—a philosophy that, after all, is cited as a viable, albeit “purely human” example of a life-view in Kierkegaard’s early From the Papers of One Still Living—and a persuasive case for the necessity of love. In what follows, I shall explain select points more specifically and show where further considerations may lead to a fruitful dialogue with Furtak’s text.

Rather than sharply distinguishing emotion and passion, as Spinoza does, Furtak defines emotions as “perceptions of significance,” (6) in order to emphasize that emotions “ought to combine activity with passivity” (15). Nevertheless, he maintains that passivity is essential for an emotion, and it is of course this notion of emotion that the Stoics opposed, for it locates value in externals outside the self in a realm subject to confusion. Stoicism thus teaches “apatheia, or the absence of pathos,” as “necessary for emotional integrity” (23). In addition to apathy, Furtak shows how “orthodox Stoicism” involves disengagement, withdrawal, alienation, and meaninglessness, and he is certainly right to attack this position as lacking integrity. Furtak is aware that “Stoicism” is more nuanced than this, however, for he describes certain Stoic positions as “a departure from the party line” and “heterodox” (28). Consequently, readers may wonder whether “orthodox Stoicism” is somewhat overstated, and whether there remains a possible interpretation that does not portray a completely apathetic philosophy of indifference, but one which combines the sound practical advantages of eliminating the passive, negative emotions with a cultivation of the active, positive emotions, such as love. That Kierkegaard’s writings are relevant to a critique of the fundamental thesis of orthodox Stoicism is clearly demonstrated within Furtak’s text, but it remains an open question whether there could be some fruitful point of contact between a heterodox or modified version of Stoicism and Kierkegaard’s ontology of love.

In the chapter entitled “Love as Necessary Premise,” Furtak raises “the fundamental (or “transcendental”) question in the philosophy of emotion”: “What must be the case in order for emotions to be truthful, rather than false, perceptions of significance?” (92). Such a question indicates that there are essentially different kinds of emotion; ones that are “truthful” and ones that are “false.” The truthful emotions, if we follow Furtak’s discussion of how Judge William undermines his own position, would be perceptions of significance in which the “real constituting element” of the emotion is determined or animated from within, rather than without (96). What must be the case for emotions to be truthful is that they must flow from the “enigmatic power at the base of the psyche, and the deepest ground of human existence,” i.e., love (97).

Furtak’s ontology of love is based on Kierkegaard’s Works of Love, which is quoted in an explanation of neighborly love—“essentially to will to exist equally for unconditionally every human being” (104). Furtak insightfully explains how such love is related to Aristotelian philia and that it involves always interpreting “reality in the best possible light” (106). “Love itself in not initiated by an act of will,” however, it is rather through “cognitive assent” or affirmation of “an unchosen dependency” that one cultivates a meaningful, “authentic emotional life” (106). Consequently, any “belief in the absolute freedom of the will” is untenable (107), for “love is not a product of the will” (120). This point, which would seemingly conflict with an existentialist interpretation of Kierkegaard as a strong proponent of radical freedom, is certainly worthy of deliberation.

Perhaps the most conceptually challenging chapter in Furtak’s book is “Suffering as Logical Consequence.” Why is it that Kierkegaard feels, and Furtak follows, that love and suffering are essentially related? How is it possible that God, being love, has to suffer? Why are Christians—or those who affirm of love as the ontological foundation of existence—expected to suffer the most? What about joy? Shouldn’t love lead to a reduction, if not an elimination of suffering? These are all complicated questions and require a closer look at what love is. Furtak’s explanation of the two kinds of love discussed in Works of Love—Elskov and Kjærlighed, or preferential (ego-based) love and unconditional (selfless) love, respectively—is significant. His controversial view is that these two apparently different kinds of love share a common origin and cannot be essentially separated (102). Such an intriguing interpretation might provide a reason why suffering is seen as a necessary consequence of love. If my love binds me to the world, then I am at its mercy. As Furtak writes, “A self that is built up by love is thereby rendered susceptible to pathos” (110). Examples are easy to find. We are familiar with the expression that to have children is to walk around with one’s heart outside one’s body, and thus at the loss of a child (an example Furtak uses) one suffers greatly. Now the crude Stoic view is that one should not have cared for the child in the first place because of the knowledge that such caring would cause considerable suffering, but is there another view of love in which suffering is transformed to joy? Such a view, I think, is to be found in Kierkegaard’s understanding of “eternal love” (Kjærlighed) or “eternity’s shall,” which secures one against all change and despair. Even when one has lost a loved one, the command “you shall love” is not abrogated, and it is this command, which arguably seeks to eliminate all ego-based love, that reduces the dimension of suffering. For in Works of Love Kierkegaard writes: “Christian consolation is joy…. As soon as this consolation comes, it comes with the head start of eternity and swallows up the pain” (WL 64). [ii] Naturally, however, insofar as we fall short of “eternal love”—and we always fall short to some degree—we suffer. Insofar as we affirm our lot—whatever hand we have been dealt no matter how bad—as flowing from a positive source of love, we will not fall powerless to the torment of emotional suffering that ultimately leads to despair. Furtak does write of “a kind of joyful acceptance” of life, but it is not one that can “rise above suffering” (133). Surprisingly, Kierkegaard’s highest view of love expressed in Works of Love seems to bring us close to the result sought after in Stoicism. Relevant to this and earlier points of discussion is the philosophical position found in the Ethics of Spinoza, who was, after all, a kind of modern Stoic. It is surprising that Furtak does not address Spinoza’s position in his work, for it would inform many of his discussions. It would also present the alternative view that God cannot possibly suffer, and that joy is a logical consequence of love.

One final point to be identified for deeper discussion appears only in an endnote, where Furtak writes that “Kierkegaard’s ethic of love does, I believe, recommend care for other living creatures” (200). It is high time that this sound insight—which is in conformity with the fundamental ontological thesis that love is the foundation of existence—be developed and applied. Of course, this will require a hard and honest appraisal of the speciesism prominent in both Kierkegaard and Christianity, but it is the sole alternative in the selfless quest for eternal love.

While I have only been able briefly to discuss select parts of the text and identify a few areas where the dialogue can be taken further, it is evident that Furtak’s work will engage a broad variety of readers. Considering its admirable style, Wisdom in Love is to be recommended to everyone who is interested in both love and wisdom.