An observer of trees and characters – Book Review
Michaël Viscoli, Le signe de l’arbre: L’Horoscope celtique – votre arbre de naissance, trans by Walter Weideli (Paris: Actes Sud/Babel, 1996; first published in German as Der Keltische Baumkalender, Zürich: Migros, 1988)
The key word here is ‘arbre’, as opposed to ‘horoscope’ or ‘celtique’. Like other horoscopes, the characterisation of personality types and their attendant destinies is bland, vague, and easily applicable to almost anyone. And as a historical study of Celtic culture and beliefs, it is woefully lacking in any critical analysis, discussion, or reference to sources.
What Viscoli is good at is the observation of trees. For example, he explains how to distinguish a chestnut tree from a horsechestnut on the basis of its leaves, blossoms, and fruit (p. 79f.). He notes the medicinal properties of the birch tree (p. 34) and the culinary potential of beech-tree oil (p. 44).
The problem with Viscoli’s project is that he tries to extrapolate general truths from his observation of trees, in order to apply them directly to human life. Only occasionally does this manage to convince, as in the case of the olive tree and its ‘three secrets for a balanced life’ (p. 38):
- be frugal
- do not be afraid of transplantings
- seek the light
Food for thought 2010 – Book Review
Lilo Göttermann (ed), Denkanstösse 2010: Ein Lesebuch aus Philosophie, Kultur und Wissenschaft (Munich: Piper, 2009)
Excerpts from recent publications in the natural sciences, history, politics, and philosophy/religion/psychology (the latter grouping is a category created by the editor or publisher), the title of this collection of essays means something along the lines of ‘food for thought, 2010′.
Topics covered range from the use of smell in parts of the body other than the nose (Hanns Hatt and Regine Dee) to Islamic fundamentalism post-9/11 (Gilles Kepel). Along the way there are three biographical studies, including one on the life of Darwin (David Quammen) and another on Kepler’s discoveries regarding planetary orbits (Thomas de Padova).
Clearly there is a limit to how much of an author’s thought can be communicated in such short excerpts from larger works. And a significant chunk of each contribution is taken up with scene-setting and basic introductory material, which gives the collection the popularising feel of a Reader’s Digest. The real problem with this collection, however, is its underlying assumption about the world. I discern a secularist European neoliberal agenda lurking just below the surface (and not very far below the surface in the case of Friedrich Merz or Gilles Kepel’s contributions).
Each of the political and psychological/theological/philosophical contributions touches on the subject of individual freedom in one way or another. Merz’s ‘Was ist gerecht?’ argues that a properly Platonic understanding of justice means that the individual choices of each person contribute to the overall justice or injustice of a given society. We only get the politicians we deserve (p. 121). It follows, then, that individual responsibility is the key to a well-ordered society. The state should only provide a minimum level of support (p. 124), along with the opportunities for work that will enable each person to work towards their own individual fulfilment. Merz does not ask what kind of work this is likely to be, especially in the kind of competitively capitalist society he envisages.
Similarly, Kepel argues that trade and economic development around the whole of the Mediterranean basin represent the only solution to the current problems of the Middle East and Gulf regions (p. 133).
Liberty and equality are the watchwords here, while fraternity is redefined as ‘solidarity’ by Ulrich Wickert, in his contribution ‘Weshalb Tugenden modern sind’ (p. 171). The virtues of faith, hope, and love barely get a mention by Wickert, who elides all the virtues – including progress, individualism, and profit-maximisation – into one, contemporary virtue of ‘Freiwilligkeit’, the freedom to choose (p. 173). Even Walter Jens and Hans Küng prefer to speak of God as ‘der solidarische Bundesgott’ in their article ‘Menschenwürdig sterben’ (p. 145, emphasis mine). Again, the point is that solidarity speaks more of personal responsibility than of love.
Perhaps the most interesting article is the one by Jonah Lehrer, ‘Wie sir entscheiden’. First he outlines the view, shared by Plato, Descartes, and Freud, that reason should be made to rule over the affects. Lehrer then quotes a study by António Damásio to show that people who have suffered brain damage to their orbitofrontal cortex (the seat of the emotions) may be fully rational and yet unable to make decisions. It would seem that desire and emotion are more integral to the decision-making process than a dualistic/rationalist system allows for.
Filed under Books, German, Random | Comment (0)Passivity and violence – Film Review
Il Conformista (Dir. Bernardo Bertolucci, Italy/France/Federal Republic of Germany, 1970)
Chameleon-like, Marcello Clerici (played by Jean-Louis Trintignant) bends, shifts, and changes to comply with the will of whoever he is with at the time: whether it be his fiancée, his mother, members of the Fascist movement, or even – through a flashback – the man who once tried to seduce him when he was a boy…
Unable to resolve the tensions created by his weakness, Clerici resorts to violence. Or rather, he relies on the violence of other people whom he passively watches as they act on his behalf. Thus he shoots the would-be pederast in his flashback, asks a fellow Fascist activist to deal with the problem of his mother’s lover, and watches as his old philosophy teacher Professor Quadri (the man whom Clerici himself had been sent to eliminate) is ambushed and shot, along with Anna Quadri, for whom Clerici had begun to develop feelings.
We find ourselves confronted with a passive hero, whose only solution is to his own problems is to call upon the violence of others. See Shakespeare’s Hamlet or the novel Endlich Stille for similarly violent passive heroes, and 1979 for one whose violence is turned inwards. on himself
Bertolucci’s screenplay is based on the 1951 novel The Conformist by Alberto Moravia. The film was shown at BFI Southbank on 13 February 2010.
Filed under Europe, Film, German | Comment (0)Unsung European hero? – Book Review
Martin H. Jung, Philipp Melanchthon und seine Zeit (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2010)
Philipp Melanchthon is not well known, even in Germany. Jung acknowledges this entertainingly in his opening chapter, disarming a possible argument about the irrelevance of his subject head-on with a number of straightforward arguments. Melanchthon’s life is among the best-documented of the sixteenth century, for one thing. A noted Humanist scholar, Melanchthon was responsible for shaping the German Church as well as the modern university. Far from being a specifically German figure, Melanchthon can justifiably be called ‘Europe’s teacher’; Jung includes England in the long list of countries within Melanchthon’s sphere of influence, but neglects to mention that subsequent developments have made Lutheranism an important force in North America too. What is more, Melanchthon clearly anticipated many ecumenical advances that have only come about in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, making him up-to-date and widely relevant. This book is timed to coincide with the 450th anniversary of Melanchthon’s death in 2010.
Jung retells the standard Protestant version of the Reformation story, but with a number of twists. The first of these is to break up the narrative into short, quasi-thematic sections, which he introduces with a snappy segue to enhance the pace and drama of the story (think Da Vinci Code in the hands of a competent popular historian). The purpose is not to provide another sweeping account of the period, although Jung does take the time to debunk the worst of the Luther legends (revealing Melanchthon’s role in the creation of the story in which Luther nails his 95 Theses to the Church door, for example). It is just as well that Jung does not attempt such a retelling, which has in any case been recently undertaken so successfully in the form of Diarmaid MacCulloch’s scholarly history Reformation: Europe’s House Divided. Jung, on the other hand, is a popularising and occasionally pedantic historian. He uses traditional historiography and terminology uncritically, misses opportunities to analyse his data or to quote specific examples from Melanchthon’s writing, and he does not indicate his sources with any clarity. His real achievement in this book is to make Melanchthon visible – and legible – in the history of the Reformation.
It emerges that Melanchthon’s role has been downplayed, even in some of the best-known episodes of the Reformation. We learn of his vast correspondence with friends and associates, as well as with such opposed figures as Erasmus and Calvin. His academic abilities are emphasised too, as Jung reveals that Melanchthon’s Wittenberg lectures were consistently better attended than Luther’s. Melanchthon played such a significant role in Luther’s famous translation of the Bible that Jung proposes re-baptising it the ‘Luther-Melanchthon Bible’, but Melanchthon’s grandeur was such that his abilities as a linguist were recognised on all sides of the confessional divide. Even his dogmatics – subtly different and more nuanced than Luther’s – and his theological method have exercised a long-lasting and unrecognised influence.
Never a monk or a priest, Melanchthon was simply and straightforwardly an academic. Yet it is as a mediator that Melanchthon really comes into his own. Much more ready to compromise than most of his contemporaries, Melanchthon appears as a cultivated and patient peace-maker. Indeed, Melanchthon helped to engineer what still counts as the longest period of peace in German history (1552-1618).
In his position on secondary issues (‘adiaphora’), Melanchthon took a stand against fundamentalism. Perhaps this openness of mind explains why he was so sought-out as a correspondent and conversation partner, and why his drafts of statements negotiated at Augsburg and Worms have been retained and successfully used in recent ecumenical discussions.
In keeping with contemporary biographical practice, Jung uncovers little-known aspects of Melanchthon’s private life: his unsuccessful marriage, for instance, or his depression, suicidal tendencies, and sense of impotency in the face of stronger personalities (such as Luther’s). The importance of dreams and portents for Melanchthon’s political and theological decision-making is also surprising.
Finally, Jung brings Melanchthon up to date with chapters on his treatment of Jews and Muslims. Only a discussion of his sexual ethics and attitude towards women are missing. In fact, Melanchthon was surprisingly experimental in his willingness to rethink his views on marriage, in one case advising (secret) bigamy and in another, divorce. The former advice he later came to regret, while the latter, inspired by the unhappy marriage of his daughter and perhaps also by his own. (Melanchthon felt ‘under the thumb’ both at home and at work, where he lived in Luther’s shadow and very much submitted to his influence. These sad marital and professional situations were never resolved.)
Melanchthon’s avant-garde views with regard to marriage and ecumenical relations do not prepare us for his more naive treatment of Jews and Muslims (although Jung hastens to point out how personable he was with individual Jews, and generous in what he wrote about Islam). Also in his reluctance to accept the Copernican revolution, Melanchthon shows himself to be a true child of his times.
Filed under Books, German, History | Comment (0)