CONTINENTAL  PHILOSOPHY  GROUP

VALUES  AND  IDENTITY

PART  2

Lindsay  Mell

Continental  Philosophy  Group

Seminar  Paper

CONTINENTAL  PHILOSOPHY  GROUP

13  March  2005

Aspiration and contribution – the ground of (inter)personal being

The contributions and aspirations of people collectively and collaboratively cannot be realised comprehensively in a broad socio-communal and/or cultural context.  This is the implied thesis which permeates substantially Alain de Botton’s recent work, Status Anxiety (2004). 

This situation derives from the pervasive reality that the socio-communal integument can only be analysed credibly through a utilitarian methodology.  While the broad fabric of social cohesion can only be suitably configured in the form of a generalised problematique expressed as ‘Causes’ and ‘Solutions’, for de Botton. 

The way through which this situation works out is that the nominated ‘Solutions’ de Botton establishes to substantiate his thesis are all based on their presumed agency, so that they constitute autonomously and independently the substance of the particular social edifices de Botton chooses to advance – ‘Philosophy, Art, Politics, Christianity, Bohemia’ (2004: 1) – quite an eclectic variety! 

The dilemma is the anthropomorphic spin which de Botton attributes to these so-called ‘Solutions’ is so pervasive as to preclude a viable place for the meaning, significance, relevance and resonance of basic human aspirations and contributions. 

The essence of my alternative thesis is that these aspirations and contributions are vital to the realisation of their place in the broad existential and ontological context, not just from the socio-communal and cultural perspective … This is not just a matter and/or issue of ‘status’, as de Botton infers.  Status is not even what emerges as the definitive criterion in this from my perspective. 

This is because aspiration and contribution coalesce to form the ground of (inter)personal being, and therefore cannot be simply reasoned and/or presumed to be devoid of real substantive influence and agency.  

  

The quandary evident at the outset of de Botton’s thesis is how can he presume to know that ‘High status is thought by many (but freely admitted by few) to be one of the finest of earthly goods’ (3)?  How can he be so confident to know precisely the inner ‘thoughts’, unexpressed ostensibly, effectively of each and all members of Western ‘society’?  

Moreover, while the causes of anxiety de Botton identifies in his ‘Definitions’ are comprehensively economic in nature, he later deals with these as if their nature was really not economic at all. 

Thence de Botton declares,  ‘Rare individuals aside (Socrates, Jesus), we rely on signs of respect from the world to feel tolerable to ourselves’ (4).  Nevertheless, the exceptions he cites – Socrates and Jesus – are the very model exemplars from whom most of those in Western society have drawn inspiration, moral and ethical guidance, particularly for behaviour.  

Hence, on this basis, people would actually ‘value’ what is the ‘exception’ in de Botton’s thesis.  However, my perspective is rather that there is a profound paradox in this which de Botton basically either doesn’t explore, or perhaps avoids. 

Now, through his ‘Thesis’ de Botton looks for a ‘profitable’ (5) way of resolving ‘status anxiety’, thereby thence situating the whole dilemma again in an economic perspective, whether inadvertently or intentionally.  

However, de Botton turns to what tends to be universally defined as a more metaphysical and less utilitarian element as the core value in his prescribed resolution of the status dilemma – the element of love. 

Then de Botton proceeds to define and apply this element in broadly utilitarian terms.  He refers glibly to ‘the amount [my emphasis] of love we stand to receive as a consequence of high status …’ (11), as relegated to a definitional position in our presumed utilitarian consideration and analysis of our respective situations.  While de Botton defines love conditionally (‘perhaps’) as ‘a kind of respect’ (11), nevertheless for him:  ‘To be shown love is to feel ourselves the object [my emphasis] of concern’ (11).  

So, again, the utilitarian perspective prevails … 

And hence:  ‘Our presence is noted, our name is registered, our views are listened to, our feelings are treated with indulgence and our needs are ministered to (11) …’, which are all essentially facets of a utilitarian perspective of love.  Hence de Botton admits:  ‘… There may be differences between romantic and status forms of love (11) …’ as if all love could be neatly allocated into these two broadly dualist categories.  However, de Botton chooses to consider this perspective through predominant utilitarian considerations, thereby defining his analytical terms of reference. 

Later, de Botton attempts to modify his analysis by tacking on the observation:  ‘As much as money, [people] seek the respect that stands to be derived from the process of gathering it (12) …’  de Botton doesn’t really explore this very ‘process’ comprehensively, and thereby tends to diminish its significance, meaning, and particularly relevance, as an influential element and/or factor.  Moreover, ‘respect’ is not the same as ‘dignity’, as de Botton iinfers.  

‘Dignity’ is a much more utilitarian and, in many ways, less universally grounded value than respect, from my perspective.  

However, relative to de Botton’s position on the ‘process’ of wealth creation, what seems to me crucial in this is that, given the validity of his position, then people would tend to be actually more concerned about how wealth is earned than about prognostications about whether or not it is deserved. 

What de Botton seems to suggest is that ‘love’ in itself constitutes some form of ‘solution’ to this situation and/or dilemma.  However, de Botton ostensibly maintains ‘love’ actually is all about being ‘noticed’, and that ‘an absence of love’ is specifically such a phenomenon of not being noticed (15-17).  

This is a rigidly narrow and deplete notion of Love, from my perspective.  From the outset, it seems to me de Botton is attempting to squeeze what is widely considered as the complex and intricate phenomenon – even emotion – of Love into an inherently utilitarian perspective. 

Further, de Botton would need to provide substantial evidence that there is such a cohesive entity as an ‘attitude of society’ (16) which apparently determines the extent to which we may reveal ‘cleverness and stupidity, humour and dullness, importance and superfluity’ (16).  These states are likely to actually be moods or emotions subject to the mood swings through which many people seem to be locked into their response(s) to the polarities and dualities emphasised in socio-cultural relations from my perspective. 

My response to de Botton is that Love is grounded in care for the other person, which is grounded in a character and nature which substantiates such care.  In this context, being noticed or otherwise may or may not be only a minor indication of the substance of such care.  What is important is the actual sustenance and ultimate meaning, significance, and relevance of the phenomenon of care and Love, not the incidence and frequency of sporadic emotions and actions. 

Probably, de Botton ventures somewhat close to an acceptance of this perspective when he later notes in relation to ‘snobbery’:  

‘… Belittling others is no pastime for those convinced of their own standing (26) …’ because such people tend to be familiar with what is substantial and significant in any given context of life.  Neither is it necessary for people generally to be beholden to ‘snobs’, which is a label only relevant in a given context, after all.  We don’t have to choose the company of, or be beholden to, snobs, after all.  We may even meet them frequently and still choose to have quality relations with those who are more concerned with genuine substance and significance in life.  

However, de Botton is justified in his claim that media interests can proliferate elite perspectives (25-27).  The concern here is not the existence or otherwise of snobs, but that certain elite groups and interests form around agendas designed to dominate others, such that these then define the place of other agendas.  Until such action proceeds, so-called ‘snobbish’ perspectives aren’t able to muster the legitimacy to be inordinately influential. 

The key dilemma with de Botton’s thesis from the outset is that he grounds his analysis in quantitative, rather than qualitative, considerations – and therefore what emerges is an essentially structural spin.  This then tends to be accompanied by a preoccupation with a functional, and consequently utilitarian, emphasis.  Later in his thesis, de Botton attempts to feed in some more qualitative perspectives,  However, as he grounds his thesis in the quantitative and structural realm, this emphasis tends to pervade his work. 

For instance, in his commentary on the Western perspective of equality de Botton notes:  ‘A sharp decline in ‘actual’ deprivation may – paradoxically – have been accompanied by a continuing and even increased ‘sense’ of deprivation and fear of it.’ (45)  Whereas, all ‘deprivation’ is a felt and sensed phenomenon anyway.  If deprivation is felt and sensed, then this is a feeling and/or sense of deprivation, whether it conforms to some synthetically established quantitative or constructed form or standard of deprivation, or not.  

Relative autonomy and structural emphasis

Then de Botton proceeds to consider how ‘we’ decide and/or choose, which he asserts is ‘never … independently’ (45).  Well, of course, each and every person will be influenced in their decision-making.  Yet there can be an aspect of broad or relative independence in this, or what I have posited as relative autonomy.  Autonomy is a phenomenon de Botton certainly doesn’t consider worthy or substantial enough to be included in his ‘Index’. 

The quantitative/ structural emphasis in de Botton’s thesis appears initially, apart from sporadic comparisons about wealth attainment in Western societies, relative to size as comparative to status preoccupations.  

‘… If we are small and live among people who are all of [our] heights, we will not be unduly troubled by questions of size … But if others in our group grow so much taller, we are liable to feel sudden unease and fall into dissatisfaction and envy – even though we have not ourselves diminished in size ..’ (46)

This may all hold true, depending on disposition and character, only if we establish ‘size’ as our preoccupation and base criterion.  The comparative sample here would then become our ‘reference group’ and we would ‘… envy only those whom we feel ourselves to be like … our reference group.’ (47)  While ‘… there is no stronger reference group than our friends’ (46), according to de Botton. 

However, there is a snag here in that ‘we’, or de Botton in this instance, would be the one(s) who would establish who would be the one(s) to establish what would be the reference group from the outset.  Thereby this would already preclude and influence the inquiry by establishing its terms of reference and research methods.  This is what marketers and social researchers do all the time, either purposely or inadvertently, when they conduct surveys, polls and research, and apply research regimes.  Indeed, such research methods are routinely termed ‘methodologies’.  No less is de Botton so influencing his methodology and research presented here.  He is effectively applying his ‘research’ such that it conforms with his perspective and argument. 

The short response to his concerns about presumed deprivation in this is that those concerned can become more aware of their situation and circumstances, for instance, through education, whether formal or otherwise.  Then they may be able to reform their situation.  There would be other presumable options also, so that those concerned are far from lacking in agency in this context. 

However, a suitable criterion through which to ground aspirations in this would not necessarily be the amount or awareness and/or education a person attains but rather how they go about their quest in this.  While the essential nature of the significance, relevance and meaning of this is vital, presuming each person has a substantial contribution in some way or other. 

When de Botton paraphrases William James’ dictum that ‘… our self-esteem in this world depends entirely on what we ‘ ‘back’ ourselves to be and do …’ (55), he ventures close to a kind of perspective which is consistent with the alternative I have raised to de Botton’s analysis.  The only glitch here is that James remains hooked on the quantitative attainment of specific goals as the fundamental criterion of success.  ‘… Our goals determine what we will interpret as a triumph and what must count as a failure … We are not always humiliated by failing at things; we are humiliated only if we first invest our pride and sense of worth in a given achievement, and then do not reach it …’ (55)  

Whereas, from an alternative perspective, the (inter)personal fulfilment of the process of being involved and/or engaged in an enterprise which is worthwhile or worthy in itself can be a source of substantial contentment for anyone who applies the most basic or the most complex propensities in this.  As de Botton characterises status-driven, competitive, feral Western capitalist society effectively everyone is cajoled to accept a status envy disposition and approach in this.  

Yet this is not necessarily such a compulsory imperative.  

Rather substantially this depends on a person’s disposition, and often most formidably in the arena – or ‘circles’ – of influence in which people substantively choose to move.  For instance, if a person chooses not to have a family (admittedly a drastic choice for many), in the usual Western course of events this choice will serve to enable access or otherwise to resources many others won’t have.  Even just the choice not to own a car or home with a mortgage can have a similar effect or, for some people, to limit the amount of personal technology they own.  

Further, in what might be deemed a more ‘proactive’ mode, people can choose to live for a beneficent cause and/or devote considerable time to humanitarian or civic organisations.  These tend to be much less competitively geared, and so members can realise alternative, often universal, fulfilment they wouldn’t hope to realise through a conventional corporate environment.  This may mean foregoing income aspirations, although this may be a relative phenomenon, while work for universal causes can open out other options for involvement.  The great down-side in this is that many such organisations are becoming highly corporatised – although not all to the same extent … And there are many private organisations in which those involved are much more universally and civicly aware and oriented than others. 

Hence how ‘we’ may consider aspects of fulfilment and/or contentment from (inter)personal perspectives ultimately tends to relate to our aspirations and in whatever particular contexts these are located.  

As de Botton paraphrases Jean Jacques Rousseau in this respect:  ‘Rousseau’s argument hung on a thesis about wealth:  that wealth does not involve having many things.  It involves having what we ‘long’ for.  Wealth is not an absolute.  It is relative to desire.  Every time we seek something we cannot afford, we grow poorer, whatever our resources.  And every time we feel satisfied with what we have, we can be counted as rich, however little we may actually own.’ (62) 

Even de Botton later observes:  ‘To occupy a low position in the social hierarchy is rarely pleasant from a material point of view, but it is not everywhere and at all times equally psychologically painful.  The impact of poverty on self-esteem will to an important extent be decided by the way that poverty is interpreted and accounted for by the community.’ (67) 

Although what de Botton would do well to admit here is that actually certain influential modes of influence and elite interests substantially carry out such interpretation and accountability on behalf of ‘the community’.  Through the insight of Rousseau, de Botton paraphrases:  ‘In so far as advanced societies provide us with historically elevated incomes, they appear to make us richer.  But in truth, the net effect of these societies may be to impoverish us because, by fostering unlimited expectations, they keep open a permanent gap between what we want and what we can afford, who we are and who we might be …’ (62) 

As evidence for his thesis on status anxiety, de Botton cites various ‘stories’, which resemble dominant ideologies, through which to cultivate the background perspectives to sustain his thesis.  Probably the most resilient of these idea ‘stories’ is that of ‘meritocracy’, or reward and recognition based on espoused skill and/or talent.  As de Botton notes:  ‘Social legislation in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries saw the triumph of the meritocratic principle (81) …’  

Merit came to be allocated on the basis of however it was deserved, as George Orwell, among its proponents, observed (84).  Among the most diabolical consequences of meritocracy to contemporary times is its effect in elevating an elite criterion based on perspectives of what is ‘deserved’.  

As one of the more odious of the current prominent car manufacturer advertisements thunders:  ‘You deserve preferential treatment! …’  

Thankfully, there has been less airing of this particular ad most recently.  While, of course, there is a polarised outcome of ‘deserve’ and ‘deserve not’ positioning:  ‘… Low status came to seem not merely regrettable, but also ‘deserved’ (86) …’ as de Botton puts this.  

However, there is a dimension of meritocracy de Botton hints at, but doesn’t explore substantially.  Yet, this aspect among the criteria of merit is seminal from my perspective.  At least de Botton poses the key dilemma:  

‘The question why, if one was in any way good, clever or able, one was still poor became more acute and painful for the unsuccessful to have to answer (to themselves and others) in a new meritocratic age.’ (86) 

Why?  Because, as in the arrogant car advertisement, what is ‘deserved’ is based on nothing other than perhaps an emotional whim.  

Effectively, everyone ‘deserves’ whatever! … But what does that mean?  Perhaps a worthy meritocratic principle for contemporary late-modern times, with a heavily geared global economic rationalist ethos, may be that people deserve according to what they earn … All human qualities and attributes, rather than just talents and skills, are worthy and everyone has the former.  So, corresponding to where they’ve invested these throughout their lives it could be deemed they ‘deserve’ accordingly.  However, it would be probably preferable to include a further criterion of how they have so invested their human qualities, attributes and propensities.  These are considerations which are currently substantially ignored. 

For instance, over a lifetime of faithfully balanced and earnest work and study investment, I have achieved a Teaching Diploma, an Arts and a Masters degree, two Post-Graduate Diplomas, a Graduate Certificate, and am currently engaged in Honours Masters study towards a doctorate. 

How I have carried out this and an equally active work career is through the substantial focus and dedication to achieving optimally, mostly at Distinction and Credit levels, even though, in many ways, I’m not particularly suited to, or all that adept, at study.  Accordingly, I’ve arranged my lifestyle through my whole study and work endeavours to contribute optimally to humanity as a worthy universal citizen – and for this end in itself, not to impress anyone.  

Despite all this, I’ve usually struggled to maintain competency in employment, and to be successful in my myriad short-term employment contracts, so as to arrange my study and optimise my study contribution. 

Meanwhile, my colleague, Noel Tointon, has spoken often of how he would have gladly pursued further tertiary study to his current status if his economic situation were more conducive to this … And I know another colleague, 
Marc Marusic, at least at times faces similar challenges to me, among many of my other colleagues … So how merit is earned in a global economic rationalist context emerges as the key dilemma here. 

However, aside from utilitarian concerns, as a resolute believer in a robust and substantial sense of destiny, I don’t consider anyone necessarily ‘deserves’ anything.  Although, I do believe people are worthy of respect, appropriate consideration, and validation, for their personal and collective contribution(s) as universal citizens.  What is sorely required is an appropriate qualitative dimension to address narrow utilitarian prescriptions. 

Generally, the other ‘story’ ideologies de Botton raises, although admittedly most relevant in their time, seem so morally and ethically deplete as to be hardly worthy of sustained consideration. 

Proceeding to then consider ‘factors of dependence’ in this globally geared economic context, de Botton heralds substantially what is a crucial flaw in his analysis, from my perspective.  He presumes entities such as ‘societies’ and ‘organisations’ can act cohesively in human ways – a kind of acute graphic runaway anthropomorphism.  ‘The great ambition of modern societies …’ (95) for instance, as if ‘societies’ could have ‘ambition(s)’! 

Yet he raises the most cogent point that ‘… Status now … hangs on one’s performance within a fast-moving and implacable economy … Because of the nature of this economy, the most evident feature of the struggle to achieve status is uncertainty.  We contemplate the future in the knowledge that we may be thwarted by colleagues or competitors, we may find we lack the talents to fulfil our chosen goals or we may steer into an inauspicious current in the swells of the market place – any failure being compounded by the possible success of peers …’ (95)  And all of which now regularly occurs probably to everyone … the use of ‘may’ here could be substituted with ‘will’!  

‘Anxiety is the handmaiden of contemporary ambition …’ de Botton continues.  Thence he raises five forms of contemporary ‘dependence’ (96-104):  dependence on  1) fickle talent,  2) luck,  3) an employer,  4) employer profitability, and  5) the global economy.  Such dependence is deemed mandatory for everyone.  Accordingly, ‘fickle talent’ is a criterion I’ve just considered here. 

‘Luck’ is a notion – and can only ever be a vague notion – which is morally bankrupt in the face of a considered substantial sense of destiny, from my perspective.  Luck, which de Botton seems to believe actually exists, lacks the momentum and continuity of real agency destiny can and does have for me.  Consequently, as de Botton himself admits:  ‘It is alarming enough to have to depend for our status on contingent elements.  It is harder yet to live in a world so imbued with notions of rational control that it has largely dismissed ‘bad luck’ as a credible explanation for defeat.’ (97) 

Among the options de Botton canvases in all this is to review the popular prospect of independent employment.  

‘The travails of being an employee include not only uncertainty about the duration of one’s employment, but also the humiliation of many working practices and dynamics …’ (99)  

However, it is the elite groups which emerge and prevail through wilful desires, behaviour and motives which constitute the real anathema from my perspective.  This phenomenon, rather than any definitive work practice or technique is why ‘… most businesses [are] shaped like pyramids … [with] a wide base of employees … [and] a narrow tip of managers …’ (99), I maintain.  Hence, as de Botton explains:  ‘It may of course be possible to acquire the velvet gloves and iron fists of a courtier and to learn to navigate around colleagues as one might around a reef-ringed coastline – but the need to do so is scarcely calming …’ (101) 

Further, de Botton characterises corporate and global entities as megalomaniac juggernauts effectively, desperately erratic and out-of-control.  ‘Companies can resemble palpitating gamblers …’ he admonishes (102), through one of his more florid comparisons, ever deepening his reliance on anthropomorphic metaphor.  While de Botton’s graphic impression of the global corporate integument is cogent and pertinent, the reality is that even ostensibly modestly endowed individuals can and regularly do negotiate this burgeoning maze of complexity and surf its waves of volatility.  While nowhere do these developments reflect the demeanour of a single human entity, although they are constantly beholden to the myriad self-serving strategies of elite groups within the system.  

Motives, deep friendship and The Community Project

Therefore, the motives of those to be located as desperately scattered within the system become the key reference criterion.  Many people who attest substantial lifetime experience can testify how certain forms and instances of ‘family bond’ and ‘friendship’ (although perhaps not ‘sexual attraction’ as such – an injudicious choice by de Botton here) are most decidedly not just subject to the wayward gyrations of ‘currencies’.  Certainly, there is such a substantial reality in what I refer to as ‘deep friendship’, as those of us from 
The Community Project have proved over the years. 

‘A family bond, a friendship or a sexual attraction may at times render material incentives unnecessary, but it would take a reckless optimist to rely on these currencies for the regular fulfilment of his or her needs (104) …’  

Here de Botton is reasoning from the perspective that ‘motivation’ trumps ‘motives’, which represents the old behaviourist thesis now substantially debunked, including through my work Motives – the source of fulfilment (1988).  

Because of what de Botton invokes as the ‘logic of the commercial system’ (108) he maintains the ‘economic imperative’ will always offset the ‘human imperative’ in market (107) and therefore (inter)personal relations, a position roundly deconstructed through my work The Corporate Imperative (1987).  What de Botton skates over is that while ‘Labour is the only human input/ output factor in the commercial equation of ‘Raw Materials + Labour + Machinery = Product + Profit’ (107), the reality is that all this production proceeds for human entities.  So that preoccupations with justice, humanity, even respect and appreciation, are fundamental imperatives for this source or reference group, through which the factors of production process can be mediated and/or modified through social action.  As H G Well’s humble Mr Polly found, if you don’t like the humdrum boredom of your everyday life, you can actually change this, even substantially (The History of Mr Polly [1910]).  

However, Immanuel Kant’s moral imperative, which de Botton invokes without substantial discussion of it specifically, remains vital from this perspective ‘… that behaving morally towards other people required that one respect them ‘for themselves’ instead of using them as a ‘means’ for one’s enrichment or glory (106) …’  Accordingly, de Botton tries to reason that ‘love’ is the vital mandatory ingredient here (108-109).  However, the ‘care’ de Botton mentions glibly as associated with this implies an expansion of the dimension of human/ (inter)personal relations beyond a preoccupation with ‘status’, even of ‘respect’ and acceptance.  

Love requires genuine earnest appreciation through which it merges into the realm of the ethical, and even metaphysical and spiritual, through its connection with emotion and perception not always subject to the utilitarian and logical rigid perimeters of de Botton’s thesis.    

The ultimate hub of de Botton’s analysis is the element of what he refers to as the capacity of ‘REASON’, which he even characterises as being an independent category or faculty (121).  He invokes what he calls ‘the rules of reason’ and ‘logical sequence’, through which ‘Intellectual Conscience’ is touted as a guide to ‘judgement’ and ’assessment’ in life (121-122).  

However, what de Botton seems to ignore through lack of consideration of the customary definition of ‘philosopher’ and ‘philosophy’ is that the conventional perspective of a philosopher is one who reveres and seeks ‘wisdom’ and ‘knowledge’, not specifically ‘reason’, which is only an associated secondary consideration in this.  While ‘philosophy’ is the study of wisdom and knowledge, and constitutes ‘intellect’, which is the principle of thinking and the discernment of meaning, not necessarily derived through strictly rational functions and/or processes. 

Persistently, de Botton diminishes qualitative principles through his analysis, to subject these to the mercy of absolute quantitative analysis:  ‘… philosophy does not deny the utility of certain kinds of anxiety [as if ‘philosophy’ as such could do this!].  As successful insomniacs have long emphasised it may be the anxious who best survive (122-123) …’ for instance.  For what about the quality of their existence?  Isn’t this a consideration worthy of broad earnest discussion? 

Moreover, reason itself is clearly not simply a constructed edifice, for it requires trust and faith in the substance and relevance of reason to rely on it.  Reason itself is a matter of faith, as G K Chesterton (Orthodoxy [1908]) revealed:

‘Reason itself is a matter of faith.  It is an act of faith to assert our thoughts have any relation to reality at all.’ 

Interestingly, de Botton then turns to the plight of what he seems to consider as a cohesive and effectively unanimously geared ‘public’ and ‘public opinion’ as the scapegoat for the fortunes of disillusioned philosophers (125-129).  Collectively, these public ‘subjects’ generally exhibit an intolerable ostensibly singular propensity for ‘confusion and error … imperfection and illogicality, prejudice and shallowness (125) …’ among other odious indiscretions and ‘defectiveness’ (125).  

However, my response here is that there are palpable universal humanitarian and civic principles which can be, and often are, generally resonant for people.  These are authentic principles which can form the ground for people to base their personal contributions in life, in the context of who they decide to ‘be’, as I propose in my earlier Values and Identity seminar paper overview (November 2004).  What I maintain is the propensity for this quality to be cultivated and developed is already implicit in a universal sense in all people, and therefore in the public culture.  So there is raw substance there already.  

Public culture is not an arid wasteland intellectually, as de Botton implies.  There is much resonant empathy among people collectively, it just becomes offset through extreme preoccupations and distractions. 

So, in this respect, my essential position differs from that of Arthur Schopenhauer, de Botton, Chamfort, and their ilk, that the ‘true characters’ of people are basically ‘contemptible’ and not ‘worthy’ of ‘respect’ [Schopenhauer according to de Botton: 127; although this may well be an aberrant view of Shopenhauer’s earnest intended meaning].  

Moreover, if  ‘… Cynics are only idealists with awkwardly high standards (128) …’ then, according to this reasoning from de Botton, everyone must be a cynic, for everyone is an idealist, in some sense, in that everyone favours particular ideas – the basis of ideals – and every ‘ideal’ is a ‘high standard’ in itself! 

Also, a ‘misanthrope’ is ‘a hater of mankind’, or of humanity, ‘who distrusts everyone’.  Given de Botton is advocating such an approach, this would seem to be enough grounds to at least question his integrity.  While to accuse Schopenhauer and Chamfort of such incivility is unjust, even given de Botton’s own reasoning, from my perspective. 

Meanwhile, de Botton disparages the place of ‘intuition’ which, along with ‘emotion and custom’ disturbs his insistence on ‘the rigours of rational examination’ (125).  Intuition is clearly not a core value for de Botton – it only seems to appear in this instance in his work and does not appear in his Index.  Because he fails to provide any substantial sense of its meaning and significance it is unlikely he has a consistent realisation of its value.  

As intuition links with imagination and creativity in the spontaneity of its nature, it is likely de Botton may similarly have a deplete awareness of the nature of these qualities. 

When de Botton soon moves on to consider the place of art in life, he seems to basically adopt Matthew Arnold’s dictum that Art is ‘the criticism of life’ (135).  However, Art is also widely interpreted as ‘life’ itself – Art is life – and/or that ‘Art imitates (or reflects) life’.  These are widely held alternative perspectives which show that Art as ‘the criticism of life’ is not the only option to consider here.  The difficulty of holding that Art, even predominantly, is all about criticising life will not allow enough latitude for Art as a positive influence which contributes to life, being, experience and reality.  

Then lighting on Jane Austen’s novel Mansfield Park de Botton applies this one Austen novel to establish that  ‘… Her art is an attempt … to criticise and so alter our lives (140) …’  Yet de Botton himself hints at a more positive purpose/ element in Austen’s writing, even though he opts not to thoroughly explore this in the context of her work, or novel writing in general.  Austen ‘… has taught us to pick up on and recoil from greed, arrogance and pride and [my emphasis] to be drawn to goodness within ourselves and others (140) …’  It is this latter positive purpose de Botton seems to take for granted. 

Later, de Botton moves closer to an effort to redeem himself when he admits:  ‘… On reading the novel our sympathies will have been expanded; the history of the novel being perhaps nothing more than one long procession of placards that tell the world …’ (144-145) how the identity of a person is diverse, multi-faceted, and often complex.  However, in historical and cultural contexts, the place of the novel is much more intricate, extending far beyond mere social status, and variegated in perspective, a reality which could not be encapsulated through one simple sentence.  

Visual art is the next focal theme for de Botton.  He seems to find Jean-Baptiste Chardin among a small eclectic group of artists who allegedly worked against the tide of art movements by opting to showcase ‘genre scenes’ of the ‘domestic lives of non-noble people’ (145).  Yet the Reformation and neo-Calvinist era brought in a plethora of artists of this ilk who were preoccupied with the modest work and lives of just such ordinary people, at least according to John Carroll (Humanism – The Wreck of Western Culture [1993]) and other such authoritative art historians. 

Then, when it comes to ‘tragedy’, de Botton brings the aspect of certain forms of characterisation into the realm of everyday historical contemporary experience in meaning and significance through a more resonant sense of authenticity.  This is a more plausible section of his work, in my view.

Nevertheless, it seems difficult to necessarily accept the context de Botton sketches for his review.  ‘But, in truth, there is nothing about these subjects [characters in fictional literature, or art] to make them inevitable objects of concern and respect.  That the legendary failed characters of art seem noble to us has little to do with their qualities per se and almost everything to do with how we have been taught to consider them by their creators and chroniclers (158) …’  

Here I differ because ‘we’ potentially identify with the characters because we can relate our situations and circumstances to theirs’, even given substantive variations of context and significance in this.  Such interpretation and discernment isn’t ‘taught’ to us by the ‘creators and chroniclers’ as such, which would constitute profound aesthetic conspiracy and unilateralism!  

The quality of the writer is in presenting the narrative or ‘story’ in such a form that we can relate to it as however pertinent for us. 

Sure, while Aristotle presumably intended  ‘… The tragic work to educate us to acquire modesty about our capacity to avoid disaster and at the same time guide us to feel sympathy for those who had met with it (159) …’, how this actually works out for us, whatever the critic’s intentions, is that  ‘… We … leave the theatre disinclined ever again to adopt an easy, superior tone towards the fallen and the failed (159) …’  Because this is the aspect which resonates for us, and we can relate to its potential meaning, significance and relevance for us through our own distinctive life journey experience.  

However, it may just be that we don’t feel ‘sympathy’ for a particular character – even though, as de Botton points out, we have all experienced failure.  While we simply may not happen to like a particular character, for whatever reason, or even no reason of which we are particularly aware consciously, even though this character is presented as positive or tragic in the context of the novel.    

Hence, whatever the tragedian may want us to realise from their work we appreciate autonomously the ‘… almost unbearable truth that every folly of which a human being has been guilty in the course of history can be traced back to aspects of our own nature; that we bear within ourselves the whole human condition, in its worst and best aspects, so that we too might be capable of anything under the right, or rather the very wrong, circumstances (160) …’ 

Personal autonomous agency through Providence

Yet, as relatively autonomous human entities we have agency in how our lives are constituted to the extent we are able to discern and apply our perceived destiny.  We can affirm and verify we are not beholden to the whims of luck and/or chance if we choose to appreciate the intervention of Providence in our circumstances.  In this context, each person realises a somewhat distinctive contribution throughout their lives. 

Consequently, from such a perspective we are not so compromised as we may have been on reading Gustav Flaubert’s Madame Bovary to be ‘… moved with fear and sadness at how we have been made to live before we can begin to know how, at how limited our understanding of ourselves and others is, at how great and catastrophic are the consequences of our actions, and at how pitiless and uncompromising our community can be in response to our errors (165).’ 

Considered from a more positive and less negatively geared perspective than de Botton presents here the meaning, significance and relevance of the novel can be quite different.  It is to be hoped de Botton can allow for this reality, behold it with suitable equanimity and not presume his analysis is the only potential feasible interpretation. 

As de Botton proceeds to analyse comedy, explicitly through the form of the joke, and particularly through an observation from Sigmund Freud, implicit in the quote from Freud is the inherent dilemma of adversarial positioning and polarity in humour in that Freud can only observe the substance of the joke through the assertion of an ‘enemy’:  ‘ ‘… A joke will allow us to exploit something ridiculous in our enemy which we could not, on account of obstacles in the way, bring forward openly or consciously’ … critical messages ‘can gain a reception with the hearer which they would never have found in a non-joking form … [which is why] jokes are especially favoured in order to make criticism possible against persons in exalted positions’ ([Freud 1905] 173). 

Hence the ultimate challenge and issue, however beneficently envisaged, emerges from de Botton’s commentary:  ‘… We laugh at kings whose self-image has outgrown their worth, whose goodness has not kept up with their power.  We laugh at high-status individuals who have forgotten their humanity and are abusing their privileges.  We laugh at, and through our laughter criticise, evidence of injustice and excess (174) …’ 

Except that such ‘evidence of injustice and excess’ is ultimately based on particular personal perspectives and presumptions. 

However, ultimately, de Botton presents either a basically naïve or ingenuous perspective of ‘comics’:  ‘Rather than ‘mocking’ us for our concern with status, the kindest comics ‘tease’ us:  they criticise us while implying that we remain essentially acceptable.  Thanks to their skills, we acknowledge with an open-hearted laugh bitter truths about ourselves that we might have recoiled from in anger or hurt had they been levelled at us in an ordinary, accusatory way.’ (181) 

The reality is that comedy can be, and often is, expressed in quite callous, insensitive and seering terms, and will have various emotional effects on people.  The key difficulty with it is that it often potentially tends to entrench polarised and adversarial positions through stark singularly focussed perspectives. 

Moreover, de Botton’s ostensible naivety eventually graduates to an acutely implausible dimension:  ‘The underlying, unconscious aim of comics may be to bring about – through the adroit use of humour – a world in which there will be a few less things to laugh about.’ (182) 

In the contemporary vernacular, my response is – ‘You wish, Alain.’! 

Once he then focuses on ‘politics’, de Botton raises a sub-theme which I consider questionable, if not basically awry.  This is that:  ‘… Qualities and skills that would result in high status in one place have a marked tendency to grow irrelevant or be frowned upon in another.’ (187) 

While this analysis notably applies for past civilisations, as de Botton astutely points out through an overview of several of these, it is doubtful such starkly incremental change applies in a prima facie increasingly global society/ civilisation with growing generalised collective values and lifestyle priorities.  Even de Botton admits that ‘ideals’ only ‘… may [my emphasis] again in the future be subject to alteration’ (191).  Moreover, ‘politics’ is not just the ‘process of change’, it is also at least how people are constituted and situated collectively.  

Further, de Botton claims ‘meritocratic’ values proliferate among high-status presumptions in the contemporary societies of ‘London, New York, Los Angeles, Sydney’ (193), whereas actually high-status individuals among these, such as Rupert Murdoch, Bill Gates and Oprah Winfrey can be said to have prevailed as much through their interpersonal/ interagency connections and notoriety as through their skills, thereby affirming the influence of elites, a phenomenon which de Botton fails to address specifically. 

Meanwhile, as he then harks back to the de – merits of meritocracy, de Botton notes how George Bernard Shaw pertinently reminded us that while the ‘ambitious’ prevail, ‘ ‘… men who exercise their noble faculties or risk their lives in the furtherance of human knowledge and welfare’ can end up in poverty and insignificance ([Shaw 1928] (193), whereas actually high-status individuals among these, such as Rupert Murdoch, Bill Gates and Oprah Winfrey can be said to have prevailed as much through their interpersonal/ interagency connections and notoriety as through their skills.  This thereby affirms the influence of elites, a phenomenon which de Botton fails to address specifically. 

Meanwhile, as he then harks back to the de – merits of meritocracy, de Botton notes how George Bernard Shaw pertinently reminded us that while the ‘ambitious’ prevail, ‘ ‘… men who exercise their noble faculties or risk their lives in the furtherance of human knowledge and welfare’ can end up in poverty and insignificance ([Shaw 1928] 198) …’ 

Yet, as de Botton himself then reveals, through the notably mixed value prospects associated with livelihood, there is little consistency in status prospects, which seem to cut across the consistent contemporary ‘meritocratic’ values de Botton associates with the contemporary ‘societies’ he nominates (193-194). 

‘The persons who become rich are, generally speaking, industrious, resolute, proud, covetous, prompt, methodical, sensible, unimaginative, insensitive and ignorant.  The persons who remain poor are the entirely foolish, the entirely wise, the idle, the reckless, the humble, the thoughtful, the dull, the imaginative, the sensitive, the well-informed, the improvident, the irregularly and impulsively wicked, the clumsy knave, the open thief and the entirely merciful, just and godly person.’ ([Ruskin 1862] 199) 

So de Botton might consider that at least the status prospects by value haven’t really changed since John Ruskin’s continuum, which is now almost 150 years and two World Wars ago! 

Then de Botton continues:  ‘… A dispassionate audit of our successes and failures should leave us feeling there are reasons at once to be less proud of and less embarrassed by ourselves, for a thought-provoking percentage of what happens to us is not of our own doing (200) …’  

However, again, this is a simplistic analysis from de Botton, because the profound paradox is that we also as much if not often more so, in certain situations and circumstances, have personal agency in what we do, and how we are, and in how we constitute our lives and our situations, as much as we are constituted by our circumstances. 

As support for his position, de Botton runs with Rousseau’s argument of ‘needs’ based personal positioning.  ‘Rousseau began [his Discourse on the Origin of Inequality] by claiming that, however independent-minded we might judge ourselves to be, we are dangerously poor at understanding out own needs (201) …’  

What Rousseau sought to emphasise here was ‘… the difficulty humans have in making up their minds about what is important (204) …’ de Botton explains.  After which de Botton then refers to ‘… the rapid way in which what was once a possibility will, with sufficient prompting, come to seem a necessity (205) … in the face of ‘disingenuousness’ of ‘advertising agents and newspaper editors’ (204-205) who foist products and status on confused bewildered potential consumers. 

Proceeding from this position de Botton continues:  

‘… Life seems a process of replacing one anxiety with another and substituting one desire for another … We are equally prone to misunderstand the attractions of certain careers, because so much of what they entail has been edited out, leaving only highlights it would be impossible not to admire.  We read of the results, but not the process (208) …’ – that is for those of us fortunate and status-blessed enough to actually have careers in this economic rationalist age! … And by ‘careers’ I do not mean simply ‘jobs’! 

What would vitalise de Botton’s analysis, from my perspective, would be a renewal in the place of consistency as an (inter)personal collective socio-cultural principal value, with a view to the permeation of this throughout our respective contributions, as universal citizens who seek to realise our distinctive contributions in a universal context, at least in some sense, prospectively.  

While, what would characterise this process as a value would be an aspect of authentic equanimity, through which the substance of each contribution could be realised through genuine earnest mutual appreciation of each and every contribution without a desperate flight to the contra-distinction of competitive values. 

When it comes to his analysis of ‘ideology’ through his perspective of ‘political change’, however, de Botton reveals certain observations which go to the hub of why his broader essential analysis is deficient.  He begins his position well by noting that political views are ‘… made up by particular being with particular practical and psychological interests to defend (214) …’ – and I would add among other interests.  

Then an unfortunately absurd level of anthropomorphism emerges, which simmers and breaks out throughout de Botton’s thesis to render its plausibility and potentially its integrity, emphatically deplete.  For instance, ‘beliefs typically take pains to suggest … they charm …’ – only people, not beliefs in themselves, can ‘take such pains’; and ‘charm’; ‘an ideological statement … pretending to be speaking neutrally’ and by implication ‘subtly pushing a partial line’; ‘ideology … makes light of its partial … take on the world … where it meekly implies that it is … stating ...’ (214-215)  

Such blatant attribution of human qualities to inert entities is a dangerously misleading distortion because it gives the impression that enterprise can be initiated through a kind of supra-human agency which yet confusingly derives from human agency and can be so ameliorated accordingly.  This is precisely how the marketers and influential social agents de Botton tends to berate go about their initiatives.  So his critical endeavours are no more worthy than their’s, from this perspective. 

Ideas, ideals and ideology

A further concern through which de Botton expresses a most wayward perspective is that of ideology.  The term ‘ideology’ does not derive from Karl Marx, as de Botton infers.  It was enunciated through ‘the system of Condillac’, through which ‘all ideas’ were considered as derived from ‘sensations’ (Shorter Oxford Dictionary - Volume 1:  1016).  Although, clearly Marx applied the term.  Moreover, ‘an ideological statement’ is not definitively ‘… one that is engaged in subtly pushing a partial line while pretending to be speaking neutrally (214).’  This is a brazenly disproportionate definition. 

Basically, ‘ideology’ is simply primarily ‘the science of ideas’ or ‘the study of the nature and origin of ideas’ (Oxford:  1016).  Ideology can be ‘ideal or abstract speculation’ or ‘a system of ideas concerning phenomena’ (Oxford:  1016), none of which implies any partiality.  It’s definitional scope can extend to ‘a way of thinking’, or even simply ‘metaphysics’ in itself.  There is no hint of any ‘pretence’ in all this. 

The definitional criterion which resonates most emphatically for me is simply ‘a body of ideas’ or ‘a set of ideas’ and/or ‘principles’ (Chambers Dictionary  648; and Bay Books Encyclopedic Dictionary 834). 

Ideas and ideals can then be synthesised into an ‘ideology’.  

The process can be this straightforward – no necessarily convoluted agendas and/or positions, although granted these may exist.  From this perspective every person, and every political agent or cause, reflects an ideology.  

Therefore, nobody is immune from ideology – we all hold forms of ideology through our various contexts/ situations in life.  

Hence, from my perspective, ideology is not simply ‘… released into society like a colourless, odourless gas (214).’  Rather, it is already there inherently in our diverse worldviews and/or perspectives, as the ideas and ideals which constitute and substantiate our being, reality and experience. 

Relative to a couple of the advertising slogans de Botton then reviews:  
‘Ever heard of anyone dreaming of making it to the middle? – Intercontinental.’ (219)  

This serves to deprecate any form of modest life experience of fulfilment as a significant socio-communal contribution.  While  ‘Eddy was determined to escape the mailroom … Never settle – Forbes Capitalist Tool’ (220) trumpets the shrill capitalist strategic challenge to concerted consistent commitment to a lifetime socio-communal contribution by insistence on consistent continuous change, so that people modestly situated are generally goaded away from ‘settling’ into any endeavour or enterprise for any substantial considerable period. 

Thenceforth, from this referential ground, de Botton reviews the place of ‘Christianity’, but from a curiously much more morbid perspective than customarily associated with it.  The conventional Christian Faith of light, Love, perpetual sustenance, Providence and hope for the future is construed as effectively and conversely a basic preoccupation with death!  This is at least a most eclectic interpretation! 

After substantially writing his way into his analysis of Christianity only through an exposition of death to this point, de Botton proposes some heavy notions and seems to begin to work some substantial authenticity into the veracity of his ideas. 

‘The effect of the thought of death is perhaps to usher us towards whatever happens to matter most to us … The prospect of our own extinction may draw us towards the way of life we value in our hearts (232) … Whatever differences exist between Christian and secular ideas of the activities which remain meaningful when viewed from the perspective of death, there seems to be a striking common emphasis on love, on authentic social relations, on charity; and a common condemnation of concerns for power, military strength, financial ambition and glory (233) … The purpose of these works [‘vanitas art’] was not to leave their owners depressed by the vanity of all things.  Rather it was to embolden them to find fault with specific aspects of their experience, while at the same time to grant them licence to attend more seriously to the virtues of love, goodness, sincerity, humility and kindness (235) …’ 

However, the guarded equanimity de Botton graciously applies here soon grows strangely dark.  

‘… For those roughly treated by society, there is sweet pre-emptive revenge to be had in anticipating individuals’ and society’s eventual demise (240) …’  The challenge for de Botton’s reflection is:  How can he know, or be sure, such a ‘demise’ is the destiny or teleology of ‘society’? 

What then emerges is a seemingly debilitated and anorexic perspective, devoid of even meagre meaning and/or significance in the life context, as de Botton reviews this.  ‘… Judged against eternity, how little of what agitates us can matter … Ruins [de Botton’s next somewhat vacuous preoccupation, even from his own analysis] bid us to surrender [again stoking up yet another blatant anthropomorphism] our strivings and images of perfection and fulfilment.  They remind us that we cannot defy time and that we are the playthings of forces of destruction which can at best be kept at bay but never vanquished …’ (248)  We are ‘… ultimately fated to step back into a primeval soup.  If this prospect has a power to console, it is perhaps because the greater part of our anxieties stems from an exaggerated sense of the importance of our projects and concerns.  We are tortured by our ideals, and by a punishingly high-minded sense of the gravity of what we are doing (248) …’ 

Then we seem to come to the real substance of why de Botton’s treatment of ‘Christianity’ seems so dark and devoid of open magnanimity.  

Suddenly this perspective of Christianity is reduced to touting the views of authorities de Botton labels ‘Christian moralists’, without actually naming any of these as sources.  So de Botton ultimately stoops to the methods of the very conniving media and marketing magnates he has just sought to so heartily excoriate. 

‘Christian moralists have long understood that … everything will in fact turn out for the worst (248) … There are natural phenomena so large as to make the variations between any two people seem mockingly small.  By spending time in vast spaces, a sense of our insignificance in the social hierarchy can be subsumed in a consoling sense of the insignificance of all humans within the cosmos.  We can overcome a feeling of unimportance … by recognising the relative unimportance of everyone … A free remedy for anxieties about insignificance my be to travel … through the gigantic spaces of the world (249) …’ 

Next, de Botton brings another slightly more edifying dimension to his thesis, but no less demoralising in its implications in certain respects: ‘… being like everyone else is not to follow Christian thought, any sort of calamity, for it was one of Jesus’ central claims that all human beings, including the slow witted, the untalented and the obscure, are creatures of God and loved by him – and are hence deserving of the honour owed to every example of the Lord’s work (257) …’  

Well, to assert they are so ‘deserving’ would potentially negate the doctrine of fallen humanity.  However, such an indiscretion aside, these ‘creatures of God’ are loved by him in their uniqueness, and it is in their respective distinctive contributions to humanity that God delights in them so much, and finds them worthy of his Love – Mary Magdalene’s humble distinctive instinctive and intuitive action of washing Jesus’ feet with her hair, for instance.  

Meanwhile, Jesus delights in the company of his disciples for each of their character foibles.  Ultimately, each of their most diverse accounts of Jesus’ ministry and life journey is what will most distinguish and venerate each of them.  

Such a realisation varies starkly from de Botton’s glib pronouncement that  ‘… Nothing could be more noble, or more fully human, than to perceive that we are indeed fundamentally, where it matters, just like everyone else (258) … 

‘To encourage fellow-feeling, Jesus urged us to learn to look at grown-ups as we might look at children (258) …’  But, importantly, he didn’t ‘urge’ us to be like children, rather he urged us to learn from the children and how they behaved.  The apogee of this teaching being St Paul’s injunction:  ‘When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I felt as a child, and I thought as a child … But when I became a man, I put away childish things …’ (I Corinthians 13; 11)  

However, the thread of de Botton’s interpretation doesn’t tend this way.  ‘… Few things can more quickly transform our sense of someone’s character than to picture them as a child.  From this perspective, we are more ready to express the sympathy and generosity we almost naturally display towards the young, whom we call naughty rather than bad, and cheeky rather than arrogant (258) …’  

Yet we surely wouldn’t consider Adolf Hitler, Josef Stalin, Pol Pot or Slobodan Milosevich as just naughty or cheeky, rather than bad or arrogant.  There are concerns in the adult context which require stronger terms of consideration, based on earnest and formidable principles of justice, civil responsibility, and mutual maturity, which emanate from earnest and sometimes critical endeavour.  Actually, it is a tendency to facile fascination with what is casually dismissed as cheeky, naughty adult behaviour which can inure people to ignore the more dire evidence for concern in any situation. 

So, when de Botton maintains:  ‘An insight to be drawn from Christianity and applied to communal ethics is that, in so far as we can recover a sense of the preciousness of every human being … then the notion of the ordinary will shed its darker associations …’ (260)  

Ultimately, an analysis of the place of ‘bohemians’ in the socio-cultural context forms the pretext for de Botton to culminate his thesis.  

Through de Botton’s perspectival lens, bohemians are preoccupied with ‘feeling’ as this pertains to ‘art’: ‘… for bohemians what mattered above all else was to be receptive to the world and to devote oneself, as a spectator or creator, to the primary repository of feeling:  art (280) … 

‘Though bohemians did not argue that there was a theoretical incompatibility between having an intense life of the mind and owning a successful law firm or factory, most implied that there might be one in practice (283) …’ 

Henry David Thoreau, author of the legendary iconic Walden or Life In The Woods (1854), sought to prove his version of bohemian life by way of an actual experiment through which to extol modes austere virtues.  

His experience served to deepen the paradox of what might constitute bohemian values. 

‘… His goal was to see if he could lead an outwardly plain but inwardly rich existence, and in that process demonstrate to the bourgeoisie that it was possible to combine a life of material scarcity with psychological fulfilment (284) …’ 

So the dimension of feeling and art as a bohemian phenomenon is broadened to take in material scarcity and psychological fulfilment through de Botton’s predominant perspective presented here. 

Further, de Botton seeks to extend his overview to include Ralph Waldo Emerson in this league, citing Emerson’s essay Self-Reliance (1840) in this context (294).  However, Emerson was no isolationist.  His perspectives and approaches to life are fraught with and undercurrent of complexity and paradox, and therefore not amenable to a ready analysis or critique.  For instance, he also affirmed resolutely the place of socio-communal cohesion, as evident through his poem, Success, which emphasises the interpersonal dimension of life and experience. 

However, de Botton’s review of the place, even significance, of the bohemian contribution to socio-communal development is basically astute and perceptive. 

‘An insight of bohemians has been that our ability to maintain confidence in a way of life at odds with the mainstream culture greatly depends on the value system operating in our immediate environment, or the kind of people we mix with socially and on what we read and listen to (287) … 

‘Bohemians have in consequence tended to display particular care when choosing who to spend their time with … [and some] have been assiduous in creating communities of congenial spirits, refusing to accept the kind of social life that tends naturally to befall us when we socialise with many of the characters whom we are thrown together with at school, and in families and workplaces.’ (287)   

Intellectual Culture – solidarity of endeavour and relative fulfilment

Yet the experience of The Community Project of the United Nations Association (Australia) and other of its affiliated agencies, such as the Continental Philosophy Group is based on the phenomenon of exploring the potential for a broad blend of socio-communal cultural values, perspectives and backgrounds to meld and coexist within a common context, such that the splitting off of disparate groups can be suitably averted. 

This is why the exploration and action research of The Community Project, through its various initiatives and endeavours is so vital and substantial in this context.  For this project does herald ways and means through which the distinctive meaning, significance, relevance and resonance of respective contributions in this can be suitably appreciated and situated in a broadly common socio-personal context.    

This therefore prefigures my personal quest to advance a broad robust intellectual culture through which bohemian spirits, among all others, can find their aspirational place and fulfilment without needing to ‘drop out’ of conventional society and culture.    

Nevertheless, bohemians tend to have fairly warned of the extent to which compromise may be required in deference to the purveyors of social status.  ‘… Given human nature, they have reasoned that those who succeed in society will rarely be the wisest or the best, they will be those who can pander most effectively to the flawed values of their audiences (290) …’ 

‘To sum up its contribution in the broadest, most comprehensive terms, one might simply suggest that bohemia has provided legitimacy for the pursuit of an alternative way of life; it has staked out and defined a sub-culture where certain of the values underrated or overlooked by the bourgeois mainstream have been granted due authority and prestige.’ (301) 

A comprehensive and insightful account of bohemian contributions does not atone for the basic skewed perspective of de Botton’s thesis, which is that non-human agents can be accorded anthropomorphic autonomy to initiate action and function independently, as the pivotal tenet of de Botton’s concluding thesis perspectives emphatically implies. 

‘Philosophy, art, politics, Christianity and bohemia did not seek to do away with a status hierarchy; they attempted to institute new kinds of hierarchy based on sets of values unrecognised by, and critical of, those of the majority.  While retaining a firm grip on a distinction between success and failure, good and bad, shameful and honourable, these five groups endeavoured to remould our sense of what could rightfully be said to belong under these weighty headings.’ (303) 

Yet, of course, the reality is ‘these five groups’ in themselves couldn’t ‘remould’ anything.  Only the agency of each individual in collaboration with others who comprise these groups, proceeding autonomously and collectively, constitutes the human substance to initiate endeavours and make any difference in life. 

Moreover, de Botton’s configuration would be anathema to the teleology of human development and ontology of personal and collective relations, for it serves to diminish the potential for even relatively autonomous human agency. 

The reality is that the social edifices de Botton nominates appear to have independent agency because the collaborative respective efforts of those who comprise these form a solidarity of endeavour which manifests as a form of agency. 

However, this situation only prevails in as much as those concerned proceed individually and collaboratively to form, shape, mould and meld this sense of solidarity into cohesive initiatives. 

Therefore, the respective distinctive initiatives of those concerned have their place(s) in this context, thereby opening out viable authentic room for the (inter)personal aspirations and endeavours of each and every person to acquire meaning, significance, relevance and resonance in this existential and ontological context … There is therefore some substantial sense through which the aspirations of all and each of those concerned can be realised correspondingly towards relative fulfilment, at least in some form or sense. 

Consequently, (inter)personal aspirations are important in that they constitute worthy contributions and have definitive form and place in this respect. 

REFERENCE

Botton, Alain de  2004:  Status Anxiety, 

Hamish Hamilton/ Penguin, Camberwell, Australia.