Philosophers since before Socrates have taken up the question of what makes a good life. And it is commonplace for thinkers who are interested in this sort of question to frame the good life as something of an "art," something that takes focus and skill, time and practice. The good life is something one works at, strives for, but never arrives at.
Fine and well.
But what does it look like when the question of the good life gets into the hands of psychoanalytic and postmodern theory? What does it look like when one takes up the question of the good life but concedes from the get-go that there really is no such thing as the good life, and insists, instead, that there are only many (infinitely many) variations on the good life, many good lives in the plural. In fact, such a theorist would likely think, the very notion that there is only "one" good life (something that was assumed for millennia) which all people need to aspire for is probably a defense mechanism, a tactic that anxious ethicists use to evade the bleak truth that none of us really know how we should live, that none of have a monopoly on the good life, and that we are all pretty damn lost and uncertain, much more humbled than we would like to believe when it comes to approaching these sorts of lofty questions.
Beyond this, such a theorist would think, the notion that we could even work toward "one" universal ideal good life has already failed to admit that we are not one with ourselves -- we are legion. As Freud has taught us, we are deeply ambivalent creatures, passionately loving and hateful, ambivalent to the core. We must come to terms with the fact that we hate the objects we love, and love the objects we hate. The notion of a coherent and stable Self has been obliterated by both psychoanalysis and postmodern criticisms.
And yet, we are not down for the count. We continue to ask, What is the good life? What do we wish to aspire for? What do we love about ourselves that we have yet to admit? What is coming? Where are we going? How can we get on, and live some semblance of a "good life," once we have become unhinged, lost, destabilized at our foundations? How can we live a good life in this world of fragile things, of uncertainties and contingencies?
It is this question that Mari Ruti attempts to answer, though not in any definitive sense, of course. Her insights are noteworthy, and there are many of them. I share just a few of them with you now:
- There are no definitive or fixed answers to the question, What does it mean to be a person? The moment we decide once and for all the answer to this question is the moment we give up the art of living, of figuring out how to live; how we answer this question will change and develop as we grapple with what most intensely shapes us as individuals, with what we value most, with what we learn that we valued without knowing it, etc.
- Theoretical advances in how we think about subjectivity: Freud’s discovery of the unconscious as an inherently disruptive element of psychic life and the postmodern depiction of decentered, polyvalent and fragmentary psychic life; psychoanalysis is especially adept at contributing to the question about the art of living because, well, it sees better than most other disciplines that human psychic life is deeply mysterious and often incoherent
- One of the goals of psychoanalysis is to enable us to work through disillusionments until they yield some sort of insight for us
- In contrast to merely consuming the conventions and meaning we have received—which make us feel secure because they are oh so familiar, all too human—Nietzsche insists that we take an avid role in shaping our life-worlds, creating ourselves as if we were inventors (because we are inventors!); Nietzsche envisions a transvaluation (a revitalization) of the codes and values by which we live
Fitting everything and everyone (including oneself) into tidy categories inevitably marginalizes whatever eludes the unitary scheme that the totalizing project attempts to uphold; it is an inevitably violent project, far from innocent, and quickly becomes an attempt to dominate everything from the self to nature to other cultures and modes of life
- The art of living as formulated by the ancients through Nietzsche aimed to activate the subjects capacity to become a more fully realized version of itself, to reach potentialities that exceed its current configuration of itself; but the contemporary cult of authenticity asks the subject to become what is already, deep down, is; both have potential pitfalls but what the authenticity cult easily loses sight of is the notion that the self is an ongoing process, not a static vision of essential traits; authenticity fanatics also fail to distinguish between hegemonic and oppressive social alliances (which certainly do force a person to give up their authentic desires) from forms of sociality that are loving, vitalizing, and conducive of creativity—most social settings are likely to contain a combination of these elements so it is crucial that we learn how to interpret our life-worlds in order to learn which parts of them are empowering and which are not; we should not (and cannot) pit authenticity against sociality as such—we are singular, as Heidegger thought, only within a social context, inherently inter-subjective beings, Dasein-with; authenticity should be seen as more of an ever-renewed process of self-fashioning rather than an ideal of self-mastery and anti-sociality; subjective singularity is less a matter of discovering or returning to the essence of one’s being than it is of feeding the inner spark that sustains one’s aptitude for self-transformation; there is no alpha or omega, no essence at the beginning, or telos (final destination) at the end; “We need to forego any firm conclusions about what our lives can or should entail” (36); this sort of self-reflexivity can, when it’s working at its best, assist us in making choices we are each fond of—even if such choices do not cohere with the dominant expectations of our social environment: What might it connote to choose personal satisfaction over the narratives of success and achievement we have been fed since birth and by our culture at large? What might it signify not to want to follow the path that our talents appear to dictate to us?
- Be patient with yourself; you are fragile