2. Authenticity as Ideal and Idol
© The Author(s) 2018
Søren Harnow KlausenSøren KierkegaardSpringerBriefs in Educationhttps://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-73186-5_22. Authenticity as Ideal and Idol
(1)
Department for the Study of Culture, University of Southern Denmark, Odense, Denmark
2.1 Introduction
Authenticity is a fascinating, but also a quite puzzling notion. It has become almost a platitude that one should be oneself. Yet, it is puzzling precisely because it appears almost trivial and thus so ill-fitted for the role as a substantial and a challenging ideal. For it seems that one cannot but be oneself. And the more specific version of the ideal that Kierkegaard championed appears even more puzzling: If one cannot but be oneself, there seems to be little point in urging, as Kierkegaard does, that one should become oneself (E/O 525/SKS 3, 215). Kierkegaard was well aware of the apparent oddity of the demand that one should become oneself:
This is an observation that is not just fundamental to Kierkegaard’s thinking, but which has become a central tenet of the whole tradition of existential philosophy: Human being tends toward inauthenticity. They either fail to realize who they are or distance themselves from it by trying to live up to some kind of role model. For that reason, the apparently trivial task of becoming oneself is actually both important and difficult.Now, of course, every human being is in a way also somewhat of a subject. To become what one in any case is, yes who would want to waste time on that … ? Quite so, but just for that reason it is extremely hard, the hardest task of all, simply because every human being has a strong natural bent to become something else and more (CUP 108; SKS 7, 122).
There is a fairly straightforward understanding of the ‘become yourself!’-maxim, which is rooted in classical teleological thinking. It is perhaps best known from Aristotle, who conceived of a human being as analogous to a plant: It embodies a certain potential and should be understood, even in its actual, not yet fully developed state, by what it might become under sufficiently favourable circumstances. Thus, it is sometimes said that ‘a tree is contained in the seed’. Accordingly, by growing and learning, an individual might approach a state of greater perfection and so come to realize its blueprint to an ever larger degree.
Kierkegaard was surely inspired by this kind of thinking, which informed much of the German tradition of self-cultivation. Yet his own understanding of authenticity was much more distinctively modern. He did not see the process of becoming oneself as a pre-programmed unfolding of an innate potential. Though the Aristotelian tradition, and still more its idealist and romantic heirs, had pictured self-development as an interactive process, requiring the individual to respond to and even at times to alter external circumstances, it still saw it as a largely natural, orderly process. On this conception, becoming oneself was mainly a matter of immersing oneself in the process of maturing, and letting things run their course.
By contrast, Kierkegaard sees becoming oneself as a genuine task; something that requires a resolute determination and concentrated effort. It is not something that can be expected to simply happen to one, even under the most favourable circumstances. Becoming oneself involves an act of self-assertion in the face of one’s natural inclinations, even if it also, in the end, makes it possible, and even requires one, to embrace one’s past and psychological character (E/O 552f.; SKS 3, 239).
A further contrast to the classical teleological view is that Kierkegaard’s notion of authenticity is not perfectionist. He did not assume that there is a definite blueprint for human beings. He did believe in the importance of self-cultivation, as we shall see in the subsequent sections. But he emphasized that becoming oneself had nothing to with exploiting one’s inborn talents (E/O 496; SKS 3, 178). Rather, by becoming oneself, one frees oneself from any reliance on such talents or character traits. I do not become myself by developing my natural dispositions to the greatest possible extent. It is the other way round: By becoming myself, I enable myself to develop my talents in a way that makes them really matter, and genuinely my own. Authenticity is the precondition for self-cultivation, not its product (although, as we shall see, at least according the ethical character, the relationship between the two is very close).
2.2 Becoming Oneself
What, then, does it mean to become oneself, according to Kierkegaard? Since one is, as noted, already oneself in a straightforward sense of the word, it is clear that it must be about a more specific, normative notion of the self. Moreover, Kierkegaard directly contrasts ‘becoming oneself’ with ‘being oneself’, seeing the latter as an expression of the aesthetic mode of existence (EO 492; SKS 3, 173). Hence it is not merely a matter of finding oneself, of seeing and accepting how one already is. On the other hand, Kierkegaard vehemently rejected the stronger notions of ‘self-constitution’ that border on self-creation (more on this in Sect. 2.3). With his ideal of authenticity, he attempted to walk the fine line between an understanding of the self as determined by natural and social factors and the almost megalomaniac idea of self that creates itself out of nothing. As we shall see, he considered the latter an even more problematic expression of inauthenticity than traditional views of the self as constrained by its own nature.
All this, however, is still mostly negative. It delineates the notion of authenticity, but does not say directly what it is about. Turning to the positive characteristics, it can be said of Kierkegaard’s notion of authenticity that is dynamic, conative, affective and structural.
It is dynamic because it is essentially about becoming oneself. Human existence is at root action-like or procedural. It essentially unfolds in time. Hence, authenticity is not about arriving at a privileged end state. It is about essentially being on the way towards something. It is about continually accomplishing or enacting oneself.
Authenticity is conative in that it is constituted by an act of willing or choosing. As noted above, becoming oneself not just happens to one. It requires a continuous and concentrated effort. In a way, it simply is this very effort: only so far as you try to become yourself are you actually yourself. Kierkegaard not merely regards willing and choosing as essential aspects of becoming oneself. He identifies the self with choosing, thereby, again stressing that it is not and end state or product, but a process, or, still better, the act of engaging in or effectuating a process (with the attitude being the primary factor, as opposed to the actual accomplishing of effects).
Authenticity is affective since the act of willing is not driven by knowledge but of passion. Again, it is not just that passion is an aspect or precondition of authenticity—it is taken by Kierkegaard to be simply identical to subjectivity (CUP 29 (the identification is not obvious in the English text due to a mistranslation); SKS 7, 39). Genuine passion is simply to be unreservedly involved in the process of accomplishing oneself.
Lastly, authenticity is a structural notion. It requires one to become, so to speak, aligned with oneself. Inauthenticity is always characterized by some kind of discord between different aspects of the self. Kierkegaard’s technical term for such a discord is despair. In Sect. 2.3 we shall look more closely at the various forms it might take. The positive relationship one might establish to oneself has several different dimensions, corresponding to different ways in which one may match or be in concord with oneself. It consists of self-knowledge, self-acceptance, self-control and self-responsibility. To be authentic thus requires one to know oneself (the Socratic maxim); to accept or come to terms with oneself; to master oneself, to be in charge of one’s life; and to take responsibility for what one does and is. Kierkegaard illustrates the latter aspects by saying that the individual may be considered the ‘editor’ or her own life, but stressing that she is the editor in chief, and so carry full editorial responsibilities (E/O 551; SKS 248).
The self-knowledge in question is, perhaps unsurprisingly, no ordinary knowledge. Kierkegaard conceives of it in terms of transparency (EE 549; SKS 3, 246). The authentic person does not in any way hide from herself; she is aware of everything she is and wants to be. However, this kind of self-knowledge is not achieved by any kind of theoretical reflection, self-observation or the like. As long as one keeps to these usual knowledge formats, a gap will remain between the knower and the known, and the essential character of the ‘object’ of knowledge—which is, in this case, one’s own subjectivity—will elude one’s grasp. The task-character of human existence, the fact that it necessarily affects and matters to oneself, will not be revealed in such a theoretical attitude.
Instead, the source of self-knowledge is authenticity itself. In becoming oneself, one also knows oneself—not in the sense that one forms a conception of or belief about oneself, but in the form of an immediate awareness of being in harmony with one’s thoughts and doings, or, stronger still, of being identical to them. It is a kind of knowing by acting. This should serve to demystify the otherwise controversial notion of transparency. The idea of the subject enjoying a privileged access to its own conscious states has been severely criticized during the twentieth century (though it has also recently been reasserted (e.g. Farkas 2008), and may be considered partially rehabilitated). What Kierkegaard has in mind is not, however, that the subject possesses an ‘inner eye’s capable of infallibly observing the innermost workings of the soul. It is rather that we are, at any rate, capable of knowing what we do, not in terms of our external accomplishments but in terms of what we attempt to bring about or care for. Kierkegaard probably also thinks that we have a kind of pre-reflective awareness of how we are doing, in the sense of our basic emotional state and existential commitments. This, however, is hardly essential to his general view of authenticity. Even if one is sceptical of Kierkegaard’s undeniably ‘internalist’ tendencies and rhetoric of immediacy, one should be able to accept, with the necessary modifications, his analysis of authenticity as involving some kind of privileged self-awareness that manifests itself in the very enactment of one’s life.
Self-acceptance is an important component in authenticity, which in Kierkegaard’s view requires a willingness and ability to confront one’s past and embrace one’s personality. Hence, authenticity is not an idealizing normative notion that requires one to give up one’s sorry present or past state and aim for something more perfect. That would be a flight from oneself and thus an example of inauthenticity. Kierkegaard does conceive of authenticity as dynamic and forward-directed. He does not consider it sufficient to come to terms with one’s self in its present state. Yet he considers it a necessary component in becoming oneself. The self-acceptance requirements are in fact very strong: It is not just that one should accept the overall characteristics of oneself, or a set of basic, defining core values and commitments. One is not allowed to leave out anything, but has to embrace it all:
Self-acceptance is of course not the same as self-approval. It should not be confused with the self-help literature’s insistence that we are all perfect as we are, or ought to believe it. Confronting oneself invariably means facing up not just to one’s accidental mistakes, but to one’s essential imperfections. (As a Lutheran Christian, Kierkegaard was keen to emphasize this, perhaps even somewhat exaggeratedly). But Kierkegaard saw that by judging all to rashly that one’s actual self is far from perfect and ought to be improved, one is likely to neglect one’s characteristic imperfections and mistake the ideal one is striving towards for one’s real self. One is also likely to forget that any existing self must be concrete, whereas ideals and role models are not really existing individuals, but abstractions—that is, incomplete sets of selected properties.The person who has chosen himself and found himself … has himself as specified in all his concretion. He has himself then, as an individual who has these abilities, these passions, these inclinations, these habits subject to these external influences … for the self that is the aim is not an abstract self which first fits in everywhere, and so nowhere, but a concrete self which stands in living interaction with these determinate surroundings … (E/O 552; SKS 3, 249f.).
2.3 Self-choice and Autonomy
Authenticity also involves autonomy. It entails being one’s own master and acting in accordance with principles that are not imposed from the outside, but laid down by oneself. Because Kierkegaard emphasizes the role of free choice in becoming oneself, the notions of authenticity and autonomy are in fact very closely related, and can be difficult to distinguish clearly. Living authentically means living on a condition posited by oneself. Whatever can be said in favour of the aesthetic mode of existence, it does appear deficient inasmuch as it is not authentic in this sense. An aesthetic character may exhibit creativity and originality, but because of the arbitrary nature of her life and its fundamental dependency on external conditions of life (including her own talents and whims), she cannot be said to be in charge of her own life. Part of the radicalism of Kierkegaard’s notion of authenticity consists in the inclusion of psychological traits and tendencies into the category of ‘external circumstances’. Living in accordance with one’s nature, using and developing one’s inborn talents, do not suffice for living in accordance with oneself (E/O 496; SKS 3, 178). Kierkegaard does not consider e.g. a poetical talent “one’s own” or “part of oneself” anymore than is an outward condition like wealth or fame.
But does this not contradict the idea that one should take responsibility for, and so in a way identify with, one’s complete, concrete self—including habits, inclinations and traits developed through external influences? There is indeed a tension, and the relationship between the self that is free to choose and the more comprehensive and deterministically constituted (or ‘heteronomous’) self is one of the most difficult problems for interpretation of Kierkegaard’s work.
On the one hand, Kierkegaard seems to require complete autonomy, in the very radical sense that no preexisting state of affairs—including the individual’s own nature—can be allowed to determine one’s choice. On the other hand, he polemicizes against subjectivist-idealist views like that of the early Fichte, who took the basis of all reality to be the ‘absolute I’, which posits itself (and basically is this very act of self-positing) (Fichte 1982), thus coming close to postulating a self-creation ex nihilo. Kierkegaard distances himself from such views by explicitly distinguishing choosing oneself from positing oneself: ‘What I choose, I do not posit, for if it were not posited, I could not choose it (E/O 516; SKS 3, 205). Choosing and becoming oneself, he repeatedly insists, are not to be understood as an act of self-creation (e.g. E/O 549; SKS 3, 246). The authentic person does not have “absolute power to make himself into what he want[s]’ (E/O 551; SKS 3, 249).
Yet in some places Kierkegaard describes the self as extremely ‘thin’, nothing but a fundamental activity of choosing, making it seem like a non-psychological, purely ‘transcendental’ self—the difference to Fichte’s absolute, self-positing I being only that in contrast to the latter it is not intended to function as principle in a general philosophical system. In the same passage in which Judge Vilhelm distinguishes choosing from positing the self, he also says that if the self ‘were not posited through my choosing it I would not choose it’ (E/O 516; SKS 3, 205). Likewise, his main objection to the aesthetic mode of existence is that it is based on a condition which is not posited by the individual herself (E/O 493; SKS 3, 178). At other times, as we have seen, Kierkegaard describes the self as extremely ‘thick’, counting not just psychological traits but also relations to other persons and one’s historical situation, including one’s past, among the factors that belong to the self and must not be ignored.
Without pretending to be able to demystify Kierkegaard’s view completely, a possible way to resolve at least some of the tension is this. There is only one self, which includes everything that pertains to one’s character or identity. But there are different modes of this self, different ways of being (and becoming) oneself, and more central as well as more peripheral aspects of the self. An authentic self will not just let itself be moved by external or psychological factors. It will of course be moved by them; to assume otherwise would be to ascribe to the self-magic or Münchhausen-like powers of absolute self-movement. But having achieved transparency, the authentic person will be aware of the determining factors as such, and this ‘insight into existential necessity’ already makes them into more than just determining factors. The insight in question is not an instance of theoretical knowledge, and doesn’t have do be explicit at all. It is rather a knowing by existing in a certain manner, by experiencing one’s personality and situation while in the process of enacting or being in it. However, it is only by being chosen that the self—still the one and only, complete and ‘thick’ self—is elevated to the status of an autonomous subject. Kierkegaard speaks about ‘remaining in one’s contingency’ but ‘ennobling it’ by choosing it (E/O 552; SKS 3, 249).
Kierkegaard is sceptical of any attempt to step outside the general scheme of things. Yet he does think it possible to remain within in the scheme of things but act or be in a way that can be considered free and autonomous. In some places, he even indicates that the self is able to temporarily break free from external influences and take up a somewhat detached stance:
This does seem to ascribe to the self some kind of radical freedom; an ability to make nondeterministic choices and mould oneself from an Archimedean point outside the flow of one’s historical and psychological life. But it would probably be a misinterpretation to read into the quotation a two-step model, with the subject briefly withdrawing from worldly, deterministic affairs to make a sovereign choice, before returning to the turbulent civic life. Judge Vilhelm speaks of the individual who chooses as being in the same instant in absolute continuity. The withdrawal takes place while the subject is still immersed in her ordinary, worldly activities. In another place, the Judge even says thatAt the instant of choice, then, he is in the most complete isolation for he withdraws from the surroundings, and yet is at the same instant in absolute continuity for he chooses himself as product; and his choice is freedom’s choice, so that in choosing himself as product he can just as well be said to produce himself (E/O 542f.; SKS 3, 239).
So there is no real Archimedean point, no complete isolation (or else the individual will have missed out on herself and chosen an abstraction instead). There is a movement of the self, in which its concentrates on its most central features—its ability to choose, its passionate, active nature, and not least its individuality, without which the other aspects would still be mere abstractions. But the culmination of this movement is not an overcoming of one’s contingency but rather a discovery and appropriation of it. And the ‘dual existence’ of which Kierkegaard speaks (E/O 489; SKS 3, 171) is not that of a split self or a shifting between states of detachment and involvement. It means that the self is simultaneously both free and a product of the historical circumstances.… just when he seems to be becoming most isolated, he is entering more deeply than ever into the roots through which he is linked with the whole (E/O 518; SKS 3, 207).
This, again, shows that for Kierkegaard authenticity, and with it autonomy, is a special mode of existing, or existential attitude. It is a way of relating existentially to the very same events that might occur in the life of an inauthentic or indifferent individual. Authenticity, and the kind of autonomy implied by it, consists in the adoption of this mode or attitude. It pertains to—and pervades—all of the self, but is at the same time only an aspect of the self. This can also be seen from the fact that Kierkegaard requires the individual to posit the basic condition of her life; this is different from demanding that she posit herself tout court, that is, as a complete, ‘thick’ self. Note also that Kierkegaard speaks of self-production. This could seem like a synonym for self-creation. But the latin producere means ‘to bring forth’, and this is what Kierkegaard has in mind: not a creation out of nothing, but a taking over and bringing forth of something which has already come into existence.
Another, complementary way to make sense of Kierkegaard’s autonomy requirement in the light of his apparent determinism is to see his view of autonomy (and, more generally, of authenticity) as being of a typical structural variety. He describes the act of choosing oneself as the ‘original’ choice, which, however, “is constantly present in every subsequent choice” (E/O 520; SKS 3, 210). He moreover describes it as the choice of not this or that, nor even of good or bad, but of the very difference between good or bad (that is, that there should be some kind of meaning and normativity, as opposed to indifference) (E/O 486; SKS 3, 165); a choice which he somewhat puzzlingly equates with choosing oneself (E/O 516; SKS 3, 209). It thus appears to be a kind of higher order choice. It is not the choice of some specific item or option over another, but rather establishes the principle according to which such choices are to be evaluated. It is in fact a distinctively higher order choice in that is not, in the last instance, even concerned with general moral or prudential principles, but solely with one’s basic existential attitude or condition of life.
This view has obvious affinities to a contemporary view defended by Harry G. Frankfurt. According to Frankfurt, one acts freely when one acts on a desire (or ‘choice’, as Kierkegaard would put it) that is supported by one’s higher order desires—that is, one not only wants something, but wants to want it. Frankfurter moreover contends that such higher order desires reflect one’s true self. They are the desires and choices persons identify with (Frankfurt 1982). By contrast, giving in to an addiction is usually not an example of free action, because the addict most likely does not want to have the desires in question, and do not want them to be effective. The addict does not identify with her first-order desires, but experiences herself as being compelled by them. Frankfurt’s account of free action does not presuppose that the agent could actually have done otherwise, or that she has chosen to be the kind of person she is. It is compatible with a thoroughgoing determinism.
Kierkegaard’s view is strikingly similar to Frankfurt’s in a number of ways. He takes authenticity, freedom and autonomy to consist in an appropriate structural relationship between different aspects of the self—a kind of internal harmony or match. Whenever he diagnoses a case of inauthenticity or lack of freedom, he always explains it as stemming from some kind of internal discord; as a lack of an appropriate cognitive, affective or volitional relationship to oneself, or aspects of oneself. He does not care about the freedom to choose differently. It is all about choosing the one right thing—and so it is irrelevant whether the subject could have acted differently from what she in fact did. Kierkegaard also takes the most higher order choices to be constitutive of one’s identity, and requires one to identify with one’s basic choices and commitments.
A possible point of divergence is that Kierkegaard does not see it as essential to one’s freedom that one’s higher order choices should be formed through a process of deliberate reflection. Authenticity is not a question of living in accordance with a preconceived plan. It is not even a question of being consciously aware of the principles on which one bases one’s actions. And it is not—and this is a clear difference to Kant as well—a question of being able to rationally justify one’s actions. For Kierkegaard, the decisive higher order desires (which are actually more like desires and less like choices in the standard sense of the word) are formed intuitively, rather than deliberately. Otherwise, they will be only abstract descriptions of possible attitudes towards first-order desires that may happen to be one’s own, but are not essentially so.
A third, complementary way to make sense of Kierkegaard’s otherwise deeply puzzling thought on freedom and autonomy is this. He seems to be claiming both that the individual can change and remould herself and that she cannot, that her nature and culture have made her how she is and that this is something she just has to accept. But the apparent paradox might be resolved by considering that although one may not be able to change the objective facts, one could interpret them differently. By coming to terms with one’s past and character, one is able to endow them with a new meaning. While this may not be much—or anything at all—from the point of view of external reality, it could mean more than anything else from the point of view of an existing individual. An unhappy childhood cannot be changed retrospectively. However, if one is able to see it not as an excuse for one’s current deficiencies, but rather as part of the process of self-development and self-improvement, one can alter its existential significance completely. It is still a determining factor, but it determines one in a different way, and does so because one has let it do so. By being taken into one’s life as a concerned and responsible person, it becomes (re)produced and part of an altogether different life than would have been if the individual had not interpreted it thus. This way of understanding Kierkegaard’s view is supported by his insistence that one’s socially, historically and naturally formed self should note merely be taken over in the sense of being taken for granted and rested content with, but that it should be taken over as a task (e.g. E/O 551; SKS 3, 248).
There is thus a clear overall direction and coherence to Kierkegaard’s thoughts about the autonomy of the self. But this does not mean that they are easy to fathom or without problems. A likely objection is that even something as subtle as an existential attitude or retrospective interpretation must still be considered a mental event and thus determined by further factors—or else radically indeterministic. It is hard to say which of these two possibilities Kierkegaard himself defended. A likely guess is that he did acknowledge some element of absolute, i.e. nondeterministic, freedom with regard to the basic choice of existential attitude.
Perhaps it is also relevant, at least in this case, to take into account the convoluted character of Kierkegaard’s philosophical works and his use of pseudonymous characters to test views he considered worthy of close scrutiny, but did not necessarily share himself. It should be borne in mind that the elaborate reflections on self-choice in Either-Or II, on which this discussion has been mainly based, are carried out by the ethicist, Judge Vilhelm. There is a reason to assume that Kierkegaard did take an existential choice to be roughly the way it is described by the judge. But the Judge presents both the idea of an existential choice and the very notion of becoming oneself as expressions of an essentially ethical attitude; and as we know, Kierkegaard did not himself consider this attitude completely satisfying or free of internal tension. Some of this tension may be found even in the analyses of choice and freedom.
The Judge does frankly admit of the paradoxical character of his analysis. He intimates that it reflects the character of the subject matter in question, as answers to existential questions may defy ordinary logic. But this may be seen as a lapse into Hegelianism on his part. He begins by ridiculing the trendy Hegelian philosophy, defending the law of contradiction and advocating a strict either/or. Yet when it comes to the central question for his own philosophical inquiries, he resorts to a seemingly dialectical style of thinking. Kierkegaard also lets the judge briefly notice some of the problems pointed out above. In one place the judge himself briefly indicates that there may be a regress or circularity problem—autonomy is conferred on the self by being freely chosen, but free choice presupposes autonomy (E/O 491; SKS 3, 173). In other places, the judge comes close to defending a view suspiciously close to a Kantian or Hegelian account of autonomy, according to which genuine freedom consists in bringing one’s actions in alignment with some kind of general norm, or (in the case of Hegel), to take on a certain social role. The latter was obviously not Kierkegaard’s own view; and in the later Postscript, which may come closer to expressing Kierkegaard’s own position, becoming oneself is, characteristically, described as a less social, more inward process. It is still about a concrete self, but there is less talk about psychological traits and social influences.
By elaborating the tensions implicit in the idea of autonomy, Kierkegaard can also be seen as hinting towards a notion of relative or conditioned autonomy typical of the later stages of German Idealism and Romanticism. The idea is that the self is, at least in a sense, transparent and free; in so far, the traditional idea of an autonomous self is retained. But it is further thought that precisely in virtue of its transparency, the self is able to discover its dependency on some deeper or more comprehensive reality. It discovers the conditioned and limited character or its freedom in the very act of realizing it. Autonomy is given and may be found and taken over; but it is not a condition which the individual can bring about or maintain alone. Hence to become autonomous is not the same as achieving complete self-sufficiency. The latter is an illusion, and to believe in it or act as if one were, in fact, self-sufficient would be a manifestation of inauthenticity.
The idea of such a conditioned autonomy of the self becomes more explicit in Kierkegaard’s later The Sickness Unto Death, where it says that
This obviously has a religious connotation. Kierkegaard depicts the self as having been ‘established’ by a transcendent power. But it is an example of how Kierkegaard’s religiously inspired views have more general significance and can be adopted without buying into their dogmatic implications. That the self is conditioned and that authenticity consists not least in becoming aware of this and letting it inform one’s actions and self-understanding is a point that can be appreciated regardless of how precisely one understands the nature of the conditioning factor. Kierkegaard might have objected that this factor has to be something radically different from everything that can be found within the human sphere. His main reservation towards the ethicist’s notion of autonomy may have been that it did not involve a relation to something thoroughly transcendent, and so remained under the illusion of self-sufficiency. But it is an open question how far one should follow Kierkegaard in his constant demand for radical and uncompromising solutions.… the human self is such a derived, established relation, a relation that relates itself to itself and in relating itself to itself relates itself to another (SuD 13; SKS 11, 130).
The deeper nature of autonomy may seem like a purely philosophical issue without relevance for educational concerns. In a way this is probably true; it may not matter much for such concerns whether the notion of self-choice is fundamentally coherent. But the idea of conditioned autonomy, and of authenticity as involving a taking over of one’s historical and psychological self, is surely not without relevance. It provides a rationale for helping students to understand the historical and social conditions under which they have grown up, even when the aim of education is not to reproduce the dominant culture or build a collective identity. It also points to the risk of being too one-sidedly focused on emancipation, opportunities, empowerment and personal development in education. There is a risk that such a focus will not really help to foster authenticity, but rather induce some kind of conformity—and, most importantly, create a tension in the student’s self rather than overcoming it.
2.4 Modes and Failures of Self-realization
Kierkegaard wrote more extensively about misguided or mistaken forms of self-realization than about authentic existence as such. While there has been much criticism in recent times of the ideal of authenticity, especially of pop-psychological notions of self-development and -optimization (Brinkmann 2017), hardly anyone has diagnosed the discontents of self-realization as precisely and acutely as Kierkegaard. Social critics have described how the obsession with authenticity has contributed to the emergence of an individualist and narcissist culture (Bell 1973; Lasch 1979; Bloom 1987). Kierkegaard, however, went beyond the level of cultural criticism. He pointed to fundamental types of structural deficiencies in the self, some of which were prone to manifest themselves in exaggerated self-assertion. Perhaps the most original feature of Kierkegaard’s analysis is that he understands such exaggerated self-assertion—and, more generally, excessive preoccupation with oneself—as forms of a lack or loss of self. He does not contrast self-realization with other, allegedly less self-concerned projects, as the social scientists and cultural critics tend to do. Instead, he takes for granted that whatever one may try or do, it will inevitable involve oneself, and thus be a form of self-realization—perhaps in the form of self-forgetfulness or self-denial, but these attitudes are, according to Kierkegaard, no less self-related than others. They are merely different modes of relating to oneself.
The different forms and manifestations of misguided self-realization are most elaborately described in the late (albeit still pseudonymous) The Sickness Unto Death. Kierkegaard here uses the term despair to denote any kind of discord between elements of a person’s self. Another, more common theoretical concept with roughly the same meaning is self-alienation: Despair, as Kierkegaard sees it, consists in a person’s inability to know, recognize, accept, identify with or being motivated by herself.
The most obvious case of a deficient mode of self-realization is when a person is simply oblivious to the task of becoming herself. In this case, Kierkegaard will say that the person does not recognize having a self (SUD 48; SKS 11, 157). This is characteristic of the philistine, who lives entirely by conventions. Since such a person is apparently in a state of perfect harmony—she identifies completely with the social expectations and opinions—she might be considered a case of unproblematic, innocent existence. After all, Kierkegaard takes lack of freedom to consist in an internal discord; and there does not seem to be any such discord in a person who is happily unaware of the task of becoming herself.
Yet, Kierkegaard argues that inasmuch as she is, after all, a human being—and a person—she does have a self, or the task to become herself; and so she is not really in harmony with herself (loc. cit.). In line with the idea of autonomy as conditioned or ‘given’, Kierkegaard seems to argue—in this case, more in line with the traditional Aristotelian ideal of self-realization—that because a person has been endowed with a potential for becoming herself, she ought to make use of this potential. Being human entails an obligation to be and act in a distinctively human fashion. A further argument turns on what would nowadays be called epistemic normativity: Kierkegaard contends that a person should not be guided by prudential rationality alone, that is, only care for her well-being even if this means sacrificing the concern for truth. On the contrary, Kierkegaard implies that the concern for truth, at least with regard to oneself, is the overriding one (loc. cit.).
These arguments may seem less convincing when considered in isolation. Why care for truth if one can do better without? Why give up the existential security characteristic of the existentially ignorant person? Why put to use a potential for something that is likely to lead one into troubles? Why does the very fact that one is a being of a certain type, that is, a human being, entail anything about what one should do or not?
Kierkegaard’s view gains more plausibility from his additional psychological observations. He takes it for granted that the self will, in any case, make itself be felt; as an integral part of every human being, it cannot be completely ignored. The fact that it has not been duly recognized will cast a shadow on the otherwise happily unreflective life of the philistine. She is likely to neglect this and so appear largely unaffected; but it suffices for describing her as being in a state of latent despair or disharmony, her apparent harmony and cheerfulness notwithstanding. Both the otherwise neglected self and the disharmony between the person’s self-understanding and true self are likely to become manifest, and a source of a negative emotional state that might be described as unhappiness, whenever her habitual ways of living or thinking are shaken up:
It is debatable to what extent such a negative manifestation of the suppressed self is unavoidable, and how strongly it influences the happiness of the person in question. Maybe it is possible to refrain from using one’s potential for self-realization without actually feeling much dread or despair. It does seem plausible, however, to assume, as Kierkegaard does, that neglecting the task of becoming oneself is likely to lead to a latent insecurity. The observation is psychologically apt that apparent simple-minded buoyancy or complacency may often be a symptom of a less harmonious or assured self-understanding. What seems to be an uncomplicated immersion into social life is, in fact, the symptom of a deeper dissatisfaction with oneself.[T]he dread [Angst] in a spiritless person is recognizable precisely in his spiritless sense of security. Beneath it lies dread all the same, and also beneath it lies despair, and when the spell is broken, when life begins to quake, then it is immediately apparent that despair was what was lying beneath (SUD 50; SKS 11, 159).
This analysis has consequences for education. While it may not in itself carry any normative force (as long as one does not except Kierkegaard’s more contentious claims about demands following from human nature as such), it provides a justification for intentionally disturbing apparently harmonious individuals, who seem happily immersed in their activities and social environment. Especially in contemporary societies, where no single set of social norms is likely to be absolutely dominant, it is highly likely that even students who appear content with conforming to conventional expectations will, sooner or later, come to experience conflicting values and self-doubt. Hence the observation that even the self-forgetful person may harbour an unresolved tension in herself provides a rationale for educating for authenticity.
The second kind of discord with oneself consists in having some notion of one’s self, but shying away from it. A person may shirk from the task of becoming oneself, finding it too unpleasant or daring, or she may be unable to accept herself. In either case, the person does not really want to become herself (SUD 57; SKS 11, 165). This shows that there are motivational challenges even when it comes to matters of self-consciousness and self-realization. The knowledge that one has a self may not be sufficient for making one care for it. Kierkegaard does, however, assume that adequate knowledge of one’s self will be instantly motivating. The lack of will reflects a lack of adequate self-consciousness. Adequate self-consciousness, on the other hand, takes the form of knowing by acting, and so cannot be dissociated from the act of becoming, and wanting to become, oneself.
Kierkegaard sees this kind of discord as constituting a progress compared with pure immediacy. In the latter case, some kind of external event is required to upset one’s self-understanding and produce an awareness of the tension in it. In the case of not wanting to become oneself, there is consciousness of the task as such, and so a possible internal—and constant—source for an existential reorientation.
A further progression consists in the person remaining too weak to actually take on the task of becoming herself, but now being conscious of this very weakness (SUD 75; SKS 11, 176). This is both a lack of self-acceptance and motivational power. The person sees the point in becoming oneself; she even sees the point that this requires her to take over herself. She does not, as is otherwise often the case, want to be someone else, at least not in the first instance. Yet recognizing her own inevitable flaws and limitations, she is unable to really muster the will to realize herself as such. She does not merely lack the ability to do so, but does not really want it; for it she really did, she would also take up the task as such (at least this is what Kierkegaard assumes).
Finally, and probably most interesting, there is a third kind of discord consisting in various exaggerated forms of self-realization. Kierkegaard describes how one can ‘be in despair to will to be oneself’ (SUD 81; SKS 11, 181). That is, one can consciously attempt to realize oneself as a ‘universal’ or ‘infinite’ self; but such a self is different from the real self in that it is idealized and artificial. It is the idea of a self that is not conditioned by any external power, but freely constructed out of those parts that one has picked and chosen. The self attempts a complete refashion (‘omdannelse’) of itself:
At a first glance, this appears to match the ideal of authenticity very well: The self insists on being its own sovereign master, of freeing itself of all external constraints and positing the conditions for its own existence. Yet according to Kierkegaard, there are at least two problems with this. For what is constructed in such a process is not really oneself, but precisely a construction, an artefact. Exaggerated self-realization lacks the element of taking over one’s concrete, limited self. A free-floating self with no inherent limitations or ties to concrete circumstances is not really a self at all. Moreover, by letting oneself be guided by such an abstract ideal, one does not really posit the conditions for one’s own existence. Instead, one establishes a new dependency, viz. on the idealized notion of oneself. It is therefore rather another way of fleeing oneself. In a way it is more serious than not wanting to become oneself; for in the latter case, there is a more adequate conception of the task—even if the task thereby comes to appear too uninviting to be actually taken up.However, this infinite self is really just only the most abstract form of the self … And it is this self the despairer wants to be, severing the self from any relations to the power which has established it … By means of this infinite form, the self wants in despair to rule over himself, or create himself, make this self the self he wants to be, determine what he will have and what he will not have in his concrete self … [H]e first wants to undertake to refashion the whole thing in order to get out of it a self such as he wants … and it is in this way he wants to be himself (SUD 82f.; SKS 11, 182).
2.5 Authenticity in Education
What is the educational significance of Kierkegaard’s notion of authenticity? Bearing in mind that authenticity is not something that can simply be taught, there nevertheless seems to be several good reasons for adopting authenticity as an educational ideal.
First, achieving an alignment between different aspects of the self has obvious potential benefits. Kierkegaard assumes, somewhat overoptimistically perhaps, that such an alignment ensures that one will choose the right thing to do (E/O 556; SKS 3, 253). This is overoptimistic inasmuch as there is, of course, no guarantee that an authentic person will act in a morally good way. If she has developed amoral higher order preferences, for example by adopting totalitarian ideology or nihilism, she may be able to perform morally bad actions without thereby compromising her integrity and internal coherence. It is possible for a person to be transparent to and in control of herself, yet to engage in immoral and even cruel acts. Examples of this are known from history and biographical reports, even though it can often be doubted whether the persons in questions—for example allegedly self-discerning Nazis, terrorists or Mafiosi—have really achieved full authenticity.
Yet assuming that the moral principles adopted by the person are in fact legitimate, there is no question that internalizing them to the point of identifying with them will greatly enhance the likelihood of acting in a consistently and reliably moral manner. In a way, Kierkegaard can be said to cash out the popular notion of an ‘ethical compass’. A similar idea has been advanced by adherents of Aristotelian-inspired virtue ethics (e.g. Lovibond 2002). But Kierkegaard emphasizes the importance of a thoroughgoing adoption achieved not just through cultivation and habituation, but through choice and self-identification. This also means that his view of ethical formation is in a way more principled than the neo-Aristotelian. For although he denies explicitly formulated principles a central role in ethical conduct, to even a larger degree than Aristotelians typically do, he nevertheless sees it as flowing from a principled personality, and so as more stable and unified, and less variable or context-dependent.
It may still be thought that an emphasis on authenticity will inevitably play down moral responsibility, sense of community, solidarity etc. By giving priority to self-choice and personal development, Kierkegaard has presented a view that resonates well with contemporary individualism; but teachers and educational institutions have an obligation to counteract or mitigate this tendency, rather than cater to it. This critical line of thought seems to have something for it. Several influential thinkers have voiced similar concerns, if not directly related to education, then to societal tendencies in general. Alasdair MacIntyre has described Kierkegaard’s theory of morality based on the choice as a fatal step towards radical subjectivism and nihilism. Ethical principles that are merely chosen can have no real authority, MacIntyre argues (MacIntyre 1981, Chap. 4). In a similar, albeit more nuanced vein, Charles Taylor has diagnosed what he calls a ‘slide to subjectivism’ in the existentialist interpretations of the ideal of authenticity (Taylor 1991, 55ff.). He argues that if authenticity is reduced to ‘self-determining freedom’ (ibid. 68), then it undercuts itself. It must also incorporate a responsiveness to defensible values, a recognition of the ‘demands that come from beyond our own desires or aspirations’ (ibid. 58).
In how far does this criticism apply to Kierkegaard? On the face of it, Kierkegaard does indeed slide into subjectivism. He makes the intensity and freedom—indeed, the very subjectivity—of one’s choices into the sole important factor, and considers the content of one’s choices inessential (E/O 485f.; SKS 3, 164). And he does, of course, generally emphasize individuality, freedom etc. Yet it is possible to defend his view, or at least make it appear less obviously problematic, both by challenging the critics’ interpretation and by pointing out shortcomings of their own anti-subjectivist view.
Taylor may be right that a certain tension between subjective and objectively normative aspects of self-development should be accepted as part of a viable notion of authenticity (1991, 66). But it is hard to see how such a tension could be dealt with satisfactorily without any further guiding principle. Merely observing it gets us nowhere. Kierkegaard does precisely suggest a way in which the tension—which he duly recognizes—can be accommodated. The individual must indeed be responsive to intersubjectively acceptable (or otherwise trans-subjective) values. This emphasized very explicitly by the ethical character, but also, in a different, but parallel way, in connection with the religious stance. But the values need to be duly appropriated. The individual cannot just passively subject herself to them; they may need independent authority, but this authority must also be recognized by the individual, according to Kierkegaard to such an extent that they can be said to be freely chosen. This is very different from a subjectivist ethics according to which values are mere projections of subjective preferences. On Kierkegaard’s view, value-constitutive choices are far from arbitrary whims. Kierkegaard may have stressed the element of personal choice; but he equally stressed the need for personal choice to have a transpersonal set of norms to work with.
This is not intended as an apology for Kierkegaard. As we have seen, there are reasons to question the fundamental coherence and justification of his view. And he does admittedly place the final authority in the subject’s own choice. But his view is considerably more nuanced than it appears from MacIntyre’s criticism. It also constitutes a more wholehearted attempt to get to the root of the problem than merely juxtaposing the subjective and objective aspects of self-development, as Taylor does.
Moreover, while it may seem overly radical in some respects, Kierkegaard’s conception of authenticity may, in fact, be more realistic and educationally relevant. Modern culture has become irrevocably individualist. This is conceded by Taylor, who aptly recounts the story of how authenticity became a powerful and ubiquitous ideal and also thinks that it deserves to be maintained, albeit with certain limitations (1991, 23). It is eminently sensible to assume that students in contemporary societies need to be able to personally identify with the norms they are expected to adopt. Mere habituation, even of the softer and more nuanced kind, will not do. Kierkegaard presents a model for addressing this situation rather than evading it. He suggests of a way of reconciling a basic and legitimate demand for authenticity with the existence of common and objectively binding norms. He gives little attention to the independent justification of these norms, however. He assumes that conventional morality is more or less correct, and that it is obviously so. The problem for Kierkegaard is not to provide theoretical foundations for morality—something for which he sees no need—but to explain how morality can become effective, how it can come to move a human being and not just present itself as a ‘cold and naked truth’.
It should also be borne in mind that Kierkegaard himself points out the very same tendency to worship a degraded ideal of authenticity as Taylor does. His diagnoses of various forms of incomplete or misguided authenticity are among the most educationally relevant aspects of his thinking. They are relevant not least because the ideal of authenticity is an immensely powerful factor in modern culture and so an important factor in shaping the conditions under which education must take place. The ideal of authenticity has been popularized to such a degree that it has become not just an integral part of popular culture, but also of contemporary etiquette and a huge commercial factor. Commitment, passion, resoluteness, conscientiousness, dedication and individual responsibility are hailed as contemporary cardinal virtues. Products are sold by associating them with uniqueness, originality, boldness and self-expression. Clothes are presented as ways of making a ‘fashion statement’, of showing other people one’s true, original personality.
The challenge is therefore not so much to make students think for themselves instead of clinging on to traditional values and assumptions. It is much closer to how Kierkegaard describes as the need to address the aesthetic character who believes herself to have risen above conventional norms, but has in fact only substituted one more trendy set of such norms for an old-fashioned one.
Authenticity as Kierkegaard understands it entails a considerable element of self-restraint and moderation. He does basically take it to require unrestricted commitment and passion, and so far his views do seem to tally with the contemporary ideology of self-realization. But he is more strongly wedded to the classical ideal of proportion and self-assertion through self-restraint. Self-realization is not a matter of aiming as highly or strongly as possible.
A maximum of passion and commitment can only be achieved if one manages to avoid diversion and maintains an undivided focus on the object, viz. on oneself. It is not necessarily wrong to be focused on the very task of becoming oneself, as long as this is understood correctly—that is, in the fundamental sense in which the self is itself a task. Nor is it wrong to identify with the fundamental pathos and energy one invests in the attempt to become oneself. But focusing on various projects of refashioning oneself is a diversion; and so is the fascination with one’s own power of self-assertion or existential remoulding. Kierkegaard describes these excessive attitudes as forms of inauthentic existence in his analysis of the person who ‘in despair wills to be herself’. He also diagnoses a very subtle form of such inauthenticity by letting Judge Vilhelm—himself a professed champion of modesty and self-restraint—be carried away by his enthusiasm for the ethical mode of existence, to the point where he seems almost to brag about his mastery of life.
Educating for authenticity must, therefore, consist in something else than simply advertising the ideal of authenticity. For one thing, the ideal is very likely to be misunderstood if it is presented straightforwardly (this is part of the rationale behind Kierkegaard’s advocacy of indirect means of communication; see Chap. 4). When described in general terms, it almost inevitably comes to sound like a piece of coaching or self-help jargon—‘believe in yourself’, ‘be yourself’, ‘just do it’ etc. As such it is very seductive. Existential topics can easily spark students’ interest, to such a degree that teachers can also be lured into catering to this interest by focusing on what Kierkegaard would see as the project of meditating on oneself as an abstract self, and thus as an existential diversion.
Students are also likely to have already internalized some version of the ideal of authenticity. It is open to debate—and a matter for sociological study—how widespread or culturally specific this tendency is. But it is ubiquitous in Western societies, and there are many indications that other cultures, included so-called traditional ones, have also adopted at least part of the ideal. At any rate, in many educational contexts teachers will have to deal with students for whom self-realization has become a predominant concern, albeit not necessarily as the task of becoming a Kierkegaard’s sense. It is hardly an exaggeration to say that the main source of inauthenticity with which contemporary educators are confronted is the very ideal of authenticity, which has become something like the master idol of our age.
Kierkegaard gives scant advice on how to tackle this situation in practice. His main suggestions involve a kind of subtly orchestrated and careful self-cultivation (or Bildung; see Sect. 2.5) and the use of a dialogical and ‘maieutic’ approach that might prompt the individual to take up a more genuinely authentic attitude without relying on instruction or commands (see Chap. 4). Apart from this, his notion that becoming oneself entails the taking over of one’s historically formed self does provide some clues as to relevant educational approaches. The aim must be to correct the illusion that one is boundlessly free and can make oneself into whatever one likes (which, almost invariably, means emulating some role model)—while at the same time retaining a sense of the value and possibility of genuinely personal freedom.
More positively, the aim must be to make students connect with their historical and psychological conditions and let these inform their efforts at self-realization. This might provide a rather straightforward rationale for maintaining a historical perspective in education. It is not because students should come to see themselves as being historically determined, but rather because history is a medium through which they can come to know themselves. This leaves open, however, which aspects of history should be selected and emphasized, though it does provide a partial selection criterion. Though Kierkegaard has sometimes been interpreted thusly, there is nothing in his notion of history or its relation to human existence that supports a particularly nationalist narrative. It does rule out a very strongly cosmopolitan approach, inasmuch as Kierkegaard stresses the importance of some kind of rootedness and belonging. On the other hand, it provides a relatively unpolitical and normatively innocuous rationale for focusing on local habits and traditions, since there is no assumption that these are in any sense ‘better’ than others. It is just that they may be more relevant to the self-discovery and self-formation of students. One should be wary of assuming uncritically that some popular story from e.g. national or regional history is particularly adequate and existentially relevant. Kierkegaard rightly stresses that each individual has her particular history and also co-constitutes it through her understanding and choices. Hence, the teaching of history and culture should facilitate a process of appropriation and application in students by presenting a certain historical material, but not by presenting any rigid interpretation of it.
This is very different from the typical instrumental ‘canon-oriented’ argument for the importance of historical and cultural knowledge, which is based on the assumption that a certain amount of such knowledge is needed to crack the cultural code and gain access to other valuable knowledge from which she would otherwise be cut off (Hirsch 1988). Kierkegaard nowhere denies that something like this could be needed. He was, typically for his time, little concerned with issues of mass education, and does not seem to have worried about any lack of background knowledge. But as we shall see in the next chapter, his idea of education as self-cultivation or -formation differed strongly from content- or curriculum-oriented notions.