Fragments/Journal: Dialectics
Ideas are now dominated by a simplified form of Hegelian dialectics, an entirely modern conception - yet even in their ideal form, and given their starting point, a series of machine-polished theoretical functions may only lead us further from the truth. Such a situation demands that we reconsider the dialectical form, attempt to grasp its meaning.
Just consider how Plato's dialogues work out, often there is a proposition and an exploration of that idea to see its faults; or we wander the paths along which the idea takes us until beauty reveals itself or the path comes to an abrupt end. This is the method, not the dialectic itself. A Nietzschean or poetic method can be used in opposition to a reasoned and logical one. In the Nietzschean case, bombs are lobbed into the forest to see if any beautiful path survives; in a reversal of taking the auspices we are forced to accept the only remaining road.
Dialectics essentially form our position relative to the truth, its questions ask of us: how close is our path to the beautiful tree at the center of the forest? To risk an all too mechanical interpretation, consider this in terms of a game of chess. There may be a winning move, the Truth, two or even thirty moves ahead, and the effort to discover the series of winning moves is the dialectic. Neither the short series of moves nor the long are necessarily more difficult to imagine - only the short series presents a force of immediacy, just as the long evades a purely mathematical positioning.
One can even say that the dialectical relation (as a position relative to Truth) still affects those without the ability to see the ideal path, as from the position of strength the amateur players will still move with the force of the winning moves behind them - they reside within an unintelligible realm, yet influence surrounding territory like a great wall. Truth is often an unseen figure, a powerful force who will take up arms with whoever first shows her loyalty; maintaining superior control of the space in proximity to the winning moves - if not mobilising it for its own uses - enacts sovereignty over the territory of influence, thus preventing others from aligning with it (same as controlling the center of the board). However, such moves tend to be vulgar, not ideal, and the alliance with contingency increases potential for the loss of truth, and a shifting of control.
Within such a game we must take care to not impose too many rules or aesthetic concerns. A rude or even violent person may engage in dialectics just as well as the polite and cultured intellectual. Truth may not always be expressed as we had hoped, and, even if we are capable of grasping its material form, to reveal our insight may be in opposition to our strategic interests. Here we see the dialectic as its own set of laws: it is not the formal investigation between a group of people, nor even the dominant conversation of a society in regards to truth. The dialectic is a chasm between Truth and its revealing, but also the attempt to reconcile with this; hence why it moves throughout the world much as we do.
One might even say that the dialectic is to Truth as art is to Beauty - we follow the Muses into the memory of death on the battlefield, where gods clearly chose the deserved victors apart from any sense of human morality. In Truth, we attempt to augur the flight of Athena's owl as it flies at dusk, both the dark and light crows obscuring its trail through the forest in their own way. A silent path that we may never take ourselves, but must look up to from the forest floor; sensing in the darkness a rustling branch, a momentary perch for that elusive messenger of the gods, with the hope that we will arrive at dawn to catch a glimpse of the next great battle - or the masterful diplomacy of its aversion.
In short, the dialectic is our arrival in the forest setting of divine council, to which we must defend our position within the unknown plans of the gods; and from which we shall be blessed or cursed by their brutal measures. The nakedness of goddesses reveals our incapacity to grasp our own spirits, and the looming devastation of the trial which follows judgement. Truth weaves a veil before our eyes, to protect us from both the immodesty of goddesses and the council vision from which no mortal shall return.
Just consider how Plato's dialogues work out, often there is a proposition and an exploration of that idea to see its faults; or we wander the paths along which the idea takes us until beauty reveals itself or the path comes to an abrupt end. This is the method, not the dialectic itself. A Nietzschean or poetic method can be used in opposition to a reasoned and logical one. In the Nietzschean case, bombs are lobbed into the forest to see if any beautiful path survives; in a reversal of taking the auspices we are forced to accept the only remaining road.
Dialectics essentially form our position relative to the truth, its questions ask of us: how close is our path to the beautiful tree at the center of the forest? To risk an all too mechanical interpretation, consider this in terms of a game of chess. There may be a winning move, the Truth, two or even thirty moves ahead, and the effort to discover the series of winning moves is the dialectic. Neither the short series of moves nor the long are necessarily more difficult to imagine - only the short series presents a force of immediacy, just as the long evades a purely mathematical positioning.
One can even say that the dialectical relation (as a position relative to Truth) still affects those without the ability to see the ideal path, as from the position of strength the amateur players will still move with the force of the winning moves behind them - they reside within an unintelligible realm, yet influence surrounding territory like a great wall. Truth is often an unseen figure, a powerful force who will take up arms with whoever first shows her loyalty; maintaining superior control of the space in proximity to the winning moves - if not mobilising it for its own uses - enacts sovereignty over the territory of influence, thus preventing others from aligning with it (same as controlling the center of the board). However, such moves tend to be vulgar, not ideal, and the alliance with contingency increases potential for the loss of truth, and a shifting of control.
Within such a game we must take care to not impose too many rules or aesthetic concerns. A rude or even violent person may engage in dialectics just as well as the polite and cultured intellectual. Truth may not always be expressed as we had hoped, and, even if we are capable of grasping its material form, to reveal our insight may be in opposition to our strategic interests. Here we see the dialectic as its own set of laws: it is not the formal investigation between a group of people, nor even the dominant conversation of a society in regards to truth. The dialectic is a chasm between Truth and its revealing, but also the attempt to reconcile with this; hence why it moves throughout the world much as we do.
One might even say that the dialectic is to Truth as art is to Beauty - we follow the Muses into the memory of death on the battlefield, where gods clearly chose the deserved victors apart from any sense of human morality. In Truth, we attempt to augur the flight of Athena's owl as it flies at dusk, both the dark and light crows obscuring its trail through the forest in their own way. A silent path that we may never take ourselves, but must look up to from the forest floor; sensing in the darkness a rustling branch, a momentary perch for that elusive messenger of the gods, with the hope that we will arrive at dawn to catch a glimpse of the next great battle - or the masterful diplomacy of its aversion.
In short, the dialectic is our arrival in the forest setting of divine council, to which we must defend our position within the unknown plans of the gods; and from which we shall be blessed or cursed by their brutal measures. The nakedness of goddesses reveals our incapacity to grasp our own spirits, and the looming devastation of the trial which follows judgement. Truth weaves a veil before our eyes, to protect us from both the immodesty of goddesses and the council vision from which no mortal shall return.
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