Kierkegaard's Writings, XII, Volume I

Concluding Unscientific Postscript to Philosophical Fragments

Søren Kierkegaard, Howard V. Hong, Edna H. Hong

• Publisher: Princeton University Press
• Year: 2013
• ISBN:
  9781400846993
• Topic: Filosofía
• Subtopic: Filosofía de la religión

In Philosophical Fragments the pseudonymous author Johannes Climacus explored the question: What is required in order to go beyond Socratic recollection of eternal ideas already possessed by the learner? Written as an afterword to this work, Concluding Unscientific Postscript is on one level a philosophical jest, yet on another it is Climacus's characterization of the subjective thinker's relation to the truth of Christianity. At once ironic, humorous, and polemical, this work takes on the "unscientific" form of a mimical-pathetical-dialectical compilation of ideas. Whereas the movement in the earlier pseudonymous writings is away from the aesthetic, the movement in Postscript is away from speculative thought. Kierkegaard intended Postscript to be his concluding work as an author. The subsequent "second authorship" after The Corsair Affair made Postscript the turning point in the entire authorship. Part One of the text volume examines the truth of Christianity as an objective issue, Part Two the subjective issue of what is involved for the individual in becoming a Christian, and the volume ends with an addendum in which Kierkegaard acknowledges and explains his relation to the pseudonymous authors and their writings. The second volume contains the scholarly apparatus, including a key to references and selected entries from Kierkegaard's journals and papers.

Part One

THE OBJECTIVE ISSUE OF THE TRUTH OF CHRISTIANITY

¹OBJECTIVELY viewed, Christianity is a res in facto posita [given fact], the truth of which is asked about in a purely objective way because the modest subject is much too objective not to leave himself out or ohne weiter res [without further ado] to include himself as someone who has faith as a matter of course.[VII 11] Thus, objectively understood, truth can signify: (1) historical truth, (2) philosophical truth. Viewed as historical truth, the truth must be established by a critical consideration of the various reports etc., in short, in the same way as historical truth is ordinarily established. In the case of philosophical truth, the inquiry turns on the relation of a doctrine, historically given and verified, to the eternal truth.

The inquiring, speculating, knowing subject accordingly asks about the truth but not about the subjective truth, the truth of appropriation.² Accordingly, the inquiring subject is indeed interested but is not infinitely, personally, impassionedly interested in his relation to this truth concerning his own eternal happiness. Far be it from the objective subject to be so immodest, so vain.

Now, the inquiring subject must be in one of two situations: either he must in faith be convinced of the truth of Christianity and his own relation to it, in which case all the rest cannot possibly be of infinite interest, since faith is precisely the infinite interest in Christianity and any other interest easily becomes a temptation;³ or he is not in a relationship of faith but is objectively in a relationship of observation and as such is not infinitely interested in deciding the question.[VII 12]

This is merely to call attention in advance to what will be expounded in Part Two⁴—namely, that along this line the issue never emerges decisively, that is, does not emerge inasmuch as the issue is rooted specifically in decision. Let the scientific researcher labor with restless zeal, let him even shorten his life in the enthusiastic service of science and scholarship; let the speculative thinker spare neither time nor effort—they are nevertheless not infinitely, personally, impassionedly interested. On the contrary, they do not want to be. Their observations will be objective, disinterested. With regard to the subject’s relation to known truth, it is assumed that if only the objective truth has been obtained, appropriation is an easy matter; it is automatically included as part of the bargain, and am Ende [in the end] the individual is a matter of indifference. Precisely this is the basis of the scholar’s elevated calm and the parroter’s comical thoughtlessness.

CHAPTER I⁵

The Historical Point of View⁶

If Christianity is viewed as a historical document, the important thing is to obtain a completely reliable report of what the Christian doctrine really is. If the inquiring subject were infinitely interested in his relation to this truth, he would here despair at once, because nothing is easier to perceive than this, that with regard to the historical the greatest certainty is only an approximation, and an approximation is too little to build his happiness on and is so unlike an eternal happiness that no result can ensue. Since, however, the inquiring subject is merely historically interested (whether he as a believer is also infinitely interested in the truth of Christianity, whereby his entire striving could easily involve him in various contradictions, or whether he stands on the outside, yet without any impassionedly negative decision as an unbeliever), he takes the work in hand, the enormous studies, to which he himself makes new contributions until his seventieth year. A fortnight before his death, to be exact, he is looking forward to a new publication that will shed light upon an entire aspect of the discussion.[VII 13] Such an objective state of mind is an epigram⁷ (unless its opposite is an epigram on it) on the restlessness of the infinitely interested subject, who must indeed have an answer to such a question, which pertains to the decision about his eternal happiness, and who in any case would not at any price dare to forego his infinite interest until the very last moment.

When the truth of Christianity is asked about historically, or what is and what is not Christian truth, Holy Scripture immediately presents itself as a crucial document. Therefore, the historical point of view focuses first on the Bible.

§ 1. Holy Scripture

Here the important thing for the research scholar is to secure for himself the greatest possible reliability; for me, however, it is not a matter of exhibiting any knowledge or of showing that I have none. For my deliberation, it is more important that it be understood and borne in mind that even with the most stupendous learning and perseverance, and even if the heads of all the critics were mounted on a single neck,⁸ one would never arrive at anything more than an approximation, and that there is an essential misrelation between that and a personal, infinite interestedness in one’s own eternal happiness.*

If Scripture is viewed as the secure stronghold that decides what is Christian and what is not, the important thing is to secure Scripture historically-critically.**[VII 14]

Here the canonicity of particular books is dealt with, their authenticity and integrity, the author’s axiopisty,¹⁰ and a dogmatic guarantee is posited: inspiration.¹¹* When one thinks of the work of the English on the tunnel,¹² the enormous expenditure of energy, and how a minor accident can interrupt the entire project for a long time—one has an appropriate notion of this entire critical enterprise. What time, what diligence, what superb abilities, what exceptional knowledge have been requisitioned from generation to generation for the sake of this marvel. And nevertheless a little dialectical doubt suddenly touching the presuppositions here can disturb the entire project for a long time, disturb the subterranean way to Christianity that one has wanted to construct objectively and scientifically instead of permitting the issue to arise as it is—subjective.[VII 15]

One occasionally hears uneducated or half-educated individuals or pompous geniuses scoff at critical work with ancient writings. They belittle the learned researcher’s scrupulousness about the most insignificant detail, which is precisely to his credit, that scientifically he does not consider anything to be insignificant. No, philological scholarship is wholly legitimate, and the present author certainly has respect, second to none, for that which scholarship consecrates. On the other hand, one gets no unalloyed impression of critical theological scholarship. Its entire effort suffers from a certain conscious or unconscious duplexity. It always looks as if something for faith, something pertaining to faith, should suddenly result from this criticism. Therein lies the dubiousness. When, for example, a philologist publishes a book by Cicero¹³ and does it with great acumen, with scholarly apparatus in noble obedience to the supremacy of the mind; when his ingenuity and his intimate knowledge of antiquity, obtained by indefatigable diligence, help his ferreting sensibility to remove difficulties, to prepare the way for the process of thought amid a confusion of variant readings, etc.—then it is safe to abandon oneself to admiration, for when he has completed his work, nothing follows from it except the admirable feat that through his skill and competence an ancient text has been made available in the most reliable form. But it in no way follows that I am now supposed to build my eternal happiness on this book, because I certainly admit that with regard to my eternal happiness his amazing acumen is too little for me; I certainly admit that my admiration for him would be downcast rather than cheerful if I thought he had something like that in mente [in mind].¹⁴ But that is precisely what critical theological scholarship does; when finished—and until then it holds us in suspenso, but with this very prospect in mind—it concludes: ergo, now you can build your eternal happiness on these writings.

Anyone who as a believer posits inspiration must consistently regard every critical deliberation—whether for or against—as something dubious, a kind of temptation. And anyone who, without having faith, ventures out into critical deliberations cannot possibly want to have inspiration result from them. To whom, then, is it all really of interest?

But the contradiction goes unnoticed because the matter is treated purely objectively.[VII 16] Indeed, it is not even there when the research scholar himself forgets what he has up his sleeve, except insofar as he once in a while uses it lyrically to encourage himself in the work or lyrically polemicizes with the aid of eloquence. Have an individual appear; have him with infinite, personal interest impassionedly want to attach his eternal happiness to this result, to the expected result—he will easily see that there is no result and none to expect, and the contradiction will bring him to despair. Luther’s rejection of the Letter of James¹⁵ is alone enough to bring him to despair. In relation to an eternal happiness and an impassioned, infinite interest in this (the former can be only in the latter), an iota is of importance, of infinite importance; or conversely: despair over the contradiction will teach him precisely that it is of no avail to press forward along this road.

And yet that is how things have gone on. One generation after the other has died; new difficulties have arisen, have been conquered, and new difficulties have arisen. As an inheritance from generation to generation, the illusion has persisted that the method is the correct one, but the learned research scholars have not yet succeeded etc. All seem to feel comfortable; they all become more and more objective. The subject’s personal, infinite, impassioned interestedness (which is the possibility of faith and then faith, the form of eternal happiness and then eternal happiness) fades away more and more because the decision is postponed, and is postponed as a direct result of the results of the learned research scholar. That is to say, the issue does not arise at all. One has become too objective to have an eternal happiness, because this happiness inheres precisely in the infinite, personal, impassioned interestedness, and it is precisely this that one relinquishes in order to become objective, precisely this that one lets oneself be tricked out of by objectivity. With the aid of the clergy, who occasionally display some scholarship, the congregation learns about it. The communion of believers finally becomes an honorific title, since the congregation becomes objective merely by looking at the clergy and then looks forward to an enormous result etc. Then an enemy dashes forth against Christianity. Dialectically he is just as equipped as the research scholars and the bungling congregation. He attacks a book in the Bible, a group of books. Instantly the learned emergency choir¹⁶ rushes in etc. etc.

Wessel has said that he stays out of jostling crowds.¹⁷ Likewise, [VII 17] it is not suitable for a pamphlet writer to come lickety-split with his respectful supplication on behalf of a few dialectical deliberations. He would be just like a dog in a bowling alley. Likewise, it is not suitable for a stark-naked dialectician to enter into a scholarly dispute in which, despite all the talent and learning pro et contra, it is nevertheless, in the last resort, not dialectically decided what the dispute is about. If it is a purely philological controversy, then let learning and talent be honored with admiration, as they deserve to be, but then it has no bearing on faith. If the disputants have something up their sleeves, let us get it out in order to think it through in all dialectical equanimity. Whoever defends the Bible with regard to faith must certainly have made clear to himself whether all his work, if it succeeded according to the highest expectations, would result in something in that respect, lest he become stuck in the parenthesis of his labor and, amid the difficulties of scholarship, forget the decisive dialectical claudatur [let it be closed]. Whoever attacks must likewise have reckoned whether the attack, if it succeeded on the largest possible scale, would result in something other than the philological result, or at most in a victory by contending e concessis,¹⁸ in which, please note, one can lose everything in a different way, that is, if the mutual agreement is illusory.

In order to do justice to the dialectical and, undisturbed, just think the thoughts, let us assume first the one and then the other.

I assume, then, that with regard to the Bible there has been a successful demonstration of whatever any theological scholar in his happiest moment could ever have wished to demonstrate about the Bible. These books, no others, belong to the canon; they are authentic, are complete; their authors are trustworthy—one may say that it is as if every letter was inspired¹⁹ (more cannot be said, because inspiration is indeed an object of faith, is qualitatively dialectical, not attainable by means of quantification). ²⁰Furthermore, there is not a trace of contradiction in the sacred books. Let us be circumspect in our hypothesis. If only as much as a single word is rumored about such a thing, the parenthesis appears again and the philological-critical busy trifling will promptly lead one astray. On the whole, what is needed here to make the issue easy and simple is merely a dietetic precaution, a renunciation of every learned intermediate clause, which one, two, three could develop into a hundred-year-old parenthesis.[VII 18] Perhaps this is not so easy, and just as a person walks in danger wherever he walks,²¹ so the dialectical development walks in danger everywhere, walks in danger of slipping into a parenthesis. It is the same with both great and small, and what generally makes debates boring listening for a third party is that in the second round the debate has already entered a parenthesis and now with growing intensity proceeds in the wrong direction away from the real topic. Accordingly, a fencing trick is used to tempt the opponent a little in order to find out whether one is encountering a dialectical parade horse or one that runs riot in parentheses, that goes giddap and gallop as soon as it is a matter of the parenthetical. How many an entire human life has passed in this way, so that from early youth it has moved incessantly in parentheses!

But here I shall break off these moralizing observations aimed at the common good, whereby I intended to compensate for my lack of historical-critical competence. Thus everything is assumed to be in order with regard to the Holy Scriptures—what then? Has the person who did not believe come a single step closer to faith? No, not a single step. Faith does not result from straightforward scholarly deliberation, nor does it come directly; on the contrary, in this objectivity one loses that infinite, personal, impassioned interestedness, which is the condition of faith, the ubique et nusquam [everywhere and nowhere] in which faith can come into existence.

Has the person who did believe gained anything with regard to the power and strength of faith? No, not in the least; in this prolix knowledge, in this certainty that lurks at faith’s door and craves for it,²² he is rather in such a precarious position that much effort, much fear and trembling will be needed lest he fall into temptation and confuse knowledge with faith. Whereas up to now faith has had a beneficial taskmaster in uncertainty,²³ it would have its worst enemy in th...