A recondite yet insightful read that both makes one gnash one's teeth and flinch with sudden violence when the home truths emerge from their ambuscades.
Before I get to the nitty-gritty behind the work, I'll say a few words about the writing and presentation itself, since I feel that here the form is of great moment. Now, Vigilius Haufniensis (hereafter "Kierkegaard" - for clarity's questionable sake) makes a point of writing as obfuscatingly and as turgidly as he possibly can. The question is: what on Earth for? Is he taking the Hegelian piss? Is this simply aimed at the learned 19th-century audience, only to be understood by them (if by anyone)? Or is Kierkegaard trying to drive home a valuable point through stylistic means?
Any or all of the above might be the case here. The way of writing is unquestionably Hegelian, with its propensity for categories, middle terms and negations - and hazy arguments shrouded either in diaphanous semantic niceties or the impenetrable winding sheet of ludicrous terms. Kierkegaard was indubitably influenced by Hegel, there's no way around it, yet he pokes fun at the great systematist and his acolytes - the speculators - time and again, which calls the reader's attention to the whole set-up: is Kierkegaard simply being a hypocritical humbug or is he simply winking at us with is accustomed diablerie? Here's my theory:
Kierkegaard is writing wittingly heavy stuff, yet not to the extent that I found myself struggling with the read. The text makes use of Kierkegaard's core terms like infinity, eternity, moment, demonic etc., and Kierkegaard has always been a thinker who rests his ideas on key terms - and rarely bothers to define them properly, yet here the dialectical trickery is more marked. Part of the reason for the heaviness is that he wanted to point out the shortcomings of Hegelian philosophy in relation to Christianity, and Kierkegaard wanted to beat the speculators in their own game. Another part for this congested gobbledygook is that he wanted to show how futile such careful definitions and argumentative gymnastics are in comparison with things that cannot be so defined (in Kierkegaard's opinion). Indeed, he clearly states that things like eagerness (on which a great deal of Kierkegaard's philosophy rests) cannot be put into words - they're existential categories. Lastly, Kierkegaard does sometimes let go of the academic jargon when he wants to deliver certain key points, which in my opinion bears out that he wasn't using the complex terminology just because it was the best medium for his study. Summa summarum, through the delivery of The Concept of Anxiety, Kierkegaard once showed what an irritating little... mastermind he is.
(Or I could be horribly wrong about it all, and I'm simply too daft to follow through his arguments. However, I'm not making this up simply in order to make myself feel better for not understanding everything herein - luckily, I've read Kierkegaard before to already know what kind of a trickster he can be.)
When it comes to the fruit of the deliberations professed herein, I must say I'm a bit puzzled. Because I don't necessarily share the same premisses as Kierkegaard does, it was rather difficult for me to see whence the necessity for delineating the psychological, the dogmatic and the ethical so carefully and so... arbitrarily. The same applies for his idea about the spirit as opposed to the mind - I simply don't get it. And this is a great shame, because if I don't agree to the teachings of Christianity and to religiousness on the whole, Kierkegaard is simply talking about familiar psychical concepts here disguised as religious categories. But as was typical for his time, there was really no need to explain the core concepts, because they were so obvious to many - and perhaps Kierkegaard even thought that there's no point in defining something like spirit (as per what I said above).
But I tried. The first part of the study concerning the relation of Adam and sin to that of later generations was more or less pointless for someone like me, since it only had to do with some theological minutiae. Kierkegaard effectively avers that there is no proper metric for sin, since it enters into world through qualitative leaps - in other words, it enter every sinner separately, and before that takes place, sensuousness or any of those seemingly "base" things are not sinful (very non-Catholic of K!). However, this treatment does pave way for the topic of anxiety, which was a lot more relevant and interesting to my pagan self.
Kierkegaard speaks of anxiety as a degree of existential discomfort felt at the sheer plurality of possibilities before any act takes place. In this way, anxiety has "nothing" as its object - and Kierkegaard did a pretty rotten job at explaining this, since he definitely did suggest that you can be anxious about things. (Even when you're anxious about the "freedom of possibilities", that "freedom of possibilities" is your object, in my opinion. Otherwise no cogitation or no sense can have any object whatsoever.) If I understood him correctly, the anxiety that is anxious about nothing is still not guilty, whereas anxiety that has an object (which is still nothing?) is guilty a priori. Thus anxiety is rather confusing, yet Kierkegaard sees in it the absolute qualification for an individual becoming truly individual, since in anxiety they are drawn to their very own selves; they choose themselves and feel that those endless possibilities are for them only, and thus - by extension - for the whole human race. Through individualism one acquires the true understanding of human nature, and this is done especially through anxiety: one gets the idea that all these things one is anxious about can befall oneself, and the more one realises that all kinds of things can befall oneself, the more profound individual he becomes in Kierkegaard's books.
However, one can also be anxious about good things, which turn the individual demonic. Demonicity is something that is latent in all human beings, and at best it is merely absent - just like sinfulness. When we break off a yarn when we realise we can't blurt out a rude word in the presence of others, when we keep silent when we should probably grass on our friends, when we simply walk by when someone is in need, we're being demonic: in the first case, we're anxious about speaking what we truly think, in the second case about adhering to the truth and in the final case about charity. These examples might be a bit incompetent, provided on how one sees when a demonic person acts, but the aforementioned cases should still be somewhat correct in principle. Now, a true individual, in the throes of his existential Angst, will also keep in mind the possibility that he might become demonic at any point.
Now, all this has clearly been a tremendous influence on Heidegger. He too saw the existential significance of anxiety and conscience, yet unlike him, Kierkegaard continues to play leapfrog and insists that the only safeguard against suicidal anxiety is faith. In other words, instead of developing the topic further (and he definitely had the potential for it, being such a perspicacious chap), he backed off and jumped over the issue by resorting to faith. Through the eagerness of faith and through the eagerness of anxiety, Man finds himself in moments of repetition and thus connects himself with eternity - the only thing one should in sooth be anxious about. And (now I'm extrapolating a bit) through this meaningful repetition of constant confirmation of faith, one repeats meaningfully the ideal existence.
That's about it for the main thesis.
As usually happens when I read Kierkegaard, I start out pretty fascinated, my interest wanes soon whenever he starts digressing, and suddenly he offers me a fabulously incisive anecdote, which makes me regain my wandering attention. This time round, he made rather wonderful points in the midst of his main deliberations. First of all, he suggested that certain topics ought to be approached from a certain point of mood - not everything should be approached "rationally" or "scientifically", but rather (this is what I thought him to mean) if one talks about love, one should seek to express the concomitant emotions instead of simply providing an inventory of marital bliss. Secondly, his point about how eagerness/passion should not be defined but rather felt is a very strong one, coming from such a penetrating and pedantic thinker. Through eagerness, life acquires its meaning, and one would be rather unfair to oneself if one simply let oneself slip into melancholy/frivolity and pretend that everything is ridiculous, absurd or pointless. And as always, Kierkegaard plants nice little reminders about not "rushing headlong into life" - something that anyone can tell you, but not something that everyone can convince you of.
Once again, a Kierkegaardian read has proven to be both amusing and bemusing, and has shown itself belonging in the category of profundament (all puns intended). I still do not know how to wrap my head around his words, since posits very different things from what I do and he belongs to a whole different ideological climate than I do, but every single time the bell of wisdom rings far away, however faintly, and calls me back to exert myself in trying to understand what the Danish shapeshifter has uncovered once again. Though my patience wears thin with him at times, he nonetheless remains one of the most fascinating individual writers I've ever encountered.