8 Jul 2018

On the Ethics of Ambiguity

Jastrow's ambiguous figure of the duck-rabbit made famous by 
Wittgenstein in his Philosophical Investigations (1953), II, §xi


As a writer, one lives more in fear of being understood than misunderstood. Thus, like Nietzsche, one greatly values ambiguity ...

Ambiguity enables one to appear transpositional and to create an open text in which meaning is always subject to interpretation and, ultimately, deferral; i.e., it allows one to have it not only both ways, but all ways and no way.

(I suppose that's why criminal defence lawyers also like ambiguity. Only prosecutors hoping for a conviction or judges looking to pass sentence, worry about certainty and establishing the facts of a case beyond a reasonable doubt.)    

It's naive, of course, to think that meaning can ever be fully determined; for language is never innocent. Not only does it lack transparency, but ambiguity is built into every word. If grammar is the presence of God within language, then ambiguity is the devil hiding behind every sentence.
 
Thus it is that man - a being who dwells within language - is the ambiguous animal par excellence. Even if we faithfully dot our i's and cross our t's, our relationship to the world, to others, and to ourselves is never straightforward.

Sartre famously follows Heidegger here and, interestingly, Simone de Beauvoir attempts to base an entire ethics on ambiguity, arguing that we need to accept the latter and, indeed, learn to love our fate: 

"Since we do not succeed in fleeing it, let us, therefore, try to look the truth in the face. Let us try to assume our fundamental ambiguity. It is in the knowledge of the genuine conditions of our life that we must draw our strength to live and our reason for acting."

Ethics, she goes on to say, cannot be based on the mathematical certainty of science and the attempt to think the world and ourselves in such clear and absolute terms invariably leads to fascism and to genocide. It's not grey uncertainty but black-and-white conviction that should trouble us.

Thus we should learn to love those philosophers who privilege the dangerous perhaps; for it expresses not only vagueness concerning the present, but future possibility - which is why, of course, ambiguity is also the basis of creativity.       


Notes:

Joseph Jastrow's duck-rabbit (or, if you prefer, rabbit-duck) illustration originally appeared in 'The Mind's Eye', Popular Science Monthly, Issue 54, (1899), pp. 299-312.

Simone de Beauvoir's, The Ethics of Ambiguity, trans. Bernard Frechtman, (Citadel Press, 1949), can be read online by clicking here.
 
Nietzsche speaks of Philosophen des gefährlichen Vielleicht in Beyond Good and Evil, Pt. 1. 2. 

For a sister post to this one waxing philosophical on insincerity, click here.



1 comment:

  1. Derived from the Latin 'ambiguus' ('having double meaning, shifting, changeable, doubtful') and the verb 'ambigere' ('to dispute, contend, debate,' lit. 'to wander, go about, go around,'), from the Proto-Indo-European root 'ambhi' ('around') + 'agere' ('drive, lead, act'), here is a concept connected with all the best aesthetic values of a shape-shifting life - disputatiousness, circumspection, vagrancy/nomadism and the kind of mind-bending equivocation embodied by the drunken Porter in Shakespeare's Macbeth.

    To err is human; to forgive divine, as Pope infamously put it. Playing advocatus diaboli, we might say, the sin of errancy/error is the satanic grit in the Christian pearl. The unforgiving ones are those who embrace the beauty of wanderlust and the poete maudit's desire to 'play wrong right'. Interestingly, the term is first attested in Sir Thomas More (1528), who knew a thing or to about satire, religion and the art of criticism.

    In matters of the psyche, James Hillman writes that the soul is a 'deliberately ambiguous concept', something picked up by More's namesake, the post-Jungian psychologist Thomas Moore, in his work 'Care of the Soul' (Piatkus, 2012):

    'It is impossible to define precisely what the soul is. Definition is an intellectual enterprise anyway: the soul prefers to imagine. We know intuitively that soul has to do with genuineness and depth, as when we say certain music has soul or a remarkable person is soulful. When you look closely at the image of soulfulness, you see that it is tied to life in all its particulars—good food, satisfying conversation, genuine friends, and experiences that stay in the memory and touch the heart.'

    Psychology is important because the forces of psychisation and psychologisation work, under conditions of polytheistic archetypal analysis, to cauterise the Judeao-Christian cult of moralisation, monomania and judgment. Psychology, at its best, is a way of owning contradictions, paradox and complexity, or more accurately, being owned by such, delimiting the narcissistic terrorism of the ego.

    If you won't drink at the dangerous altar of the perhaps, you can't be in my gang!

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