“Aion: Researches into the Phenomenology of the Self” by C.G. Jung (translated by R.F.C. Hull)

Jung relates his work on the traditional archetypes with a theory of the nature of the Self. He begins with the role of the unconscious in the human mind, “The contents of the collective unconscious are invariably archetypes that were present from the beginning…. The archetypes most clearly characterized from the empirical point of view are those which have the most frequent and the most disturbing influence on the ego.” For Jung, an understanding of the archetypes is necessary for any understanding of Self, “The shadow is a moral problem that challenges the whole ego-personality, for no one can become conscious of the shadow without considerable moral effort. To become conscious of it involves recognizing the dark aspects of the personality as present and real. This act is the essential condition for any kind of self-knowledge…. Examination of the dark characteristics—that is, the inferiorities constituting the shadow—reveals that they have an emotional nature, a kind of autonomy, and accordingly an obsessive or, better, possessive quality…. It is not the conscious subject but the unconscious which does the projecting…. The psychological rule says that when an inner situation is not made conscious, it happens outside, as fate. That is to say, when the individual remains undivided and does not become conscious of his inner opposite, the world must perforce act out the conflict and be torn into opposing halves.”

Much of Jung’s book relates archetypal symbols to Christian and Gnostic theology. Jung posits, “As the highest value and supreme dominant in the psychic hierarchy, the God-image is immediately related to, or identical with, the self, and everything that happens to the God-image has an effect on the latter.” Elsewhere, he expands, “Modern psychology is therefore confronted with a question very like the one faced by the alchemists: Is the self a symbol of Christ, or is Christ a symbol of the self? In the present study I have affirmed the latter alternative. I have tried to show how the traditional Christ-image concentrates upon itself the characteristics of an archetype-the archetype of the self…. The Christ-image is as good as perfect (at least it is meant to be so), while the archetype (so far as known) denotes completeness but is far from being perfect. It is a paradox, a statement about something indescribable and transcendental…. The individual may strive after perfection (“Be you therefore perfect as also your heavenly Father is perfect.”) but must suffer from the opposite of his intentions for the sake of his completeness…. Christ is the perfect man who is crucified. One could hardly think of a truer picture of the goal of ethical endeavor.”

Jung next explains the notion of the world-soul, “The ocean is the “spirit of the world”…. The “spirit of the world” is a somewhat unusual term, because the expression more commonly used was the “anima mundi.” The world-soul or, in this case, the world-spirit is a projection of the unconscious…. This idea is nothing more than an analogy of the animating principle in man which inspires his thoughts and acts of cognition. “Soul” and “spirit,” or psyche as such, is in itself totally unconscious. If it is assumed to be somewhere “outside,” it cannot be anything except a projection of the unconscious…. In alchemy “our sea” is a symbol for the unconscious in general, just as it is in dreams…. The symbol of the self appears here as an “extremely small” fish in the vast ocean of the unconscious, like a man alone on the sea of the world.”

In general, for Jung, the symbols in myth play a large role in digesting the meanings of the unconscious. “Cosmogonic myths are, at bottom, symbols for the coming of consciousness…. The dawn-state corresponds to the unconscious, in alchemical terms, it is the chaos, the masa confusa or nigredo…. Oxen stand for the motive power of the plough. In the same way, the fishes represent the driving forces of the coming world of consciousness. Since olden times the plough has stood for man’s mastery over the earth: wherever man ploughs, he has wrested a patch of soil from the primal state and put it to his own use. That is to say: the fishes will rule this world and subdue it by working astrologically through man and moulding his consciousness…. The alchemical work starts with the descent into darkness (nigredo), i.e., the unconscious.”

For Jung, alchemy was the precursor to modern science. He puts heavy stock into alchemy’s symbols and what they foretell about man’s probing of the unconscious and the Self. “Dorn was the first thinker to recognize with the utmost clarity the extraordinary dilemma of alchemy: the arcane substance is one and the same, whether it is found within man or outside him. The “alchymical” procedure takes place within and without. He who does not understand how to free the “truth” in his own soul from its fetters will never make a success of the physical opus, and he who knows how to make the stone can only do so on the basis of right doctrine, through which he himself is transformed, or which he creates through his own transformation…. Dorn came to realize the fundamental importance of self-knowledge…. The expectations you put into the work must be applied to your own ego…. The secret is first and foremost in man; it is his true self, which he does not know but learns to know by experience of outward things…. Anyone who seriously tries to know himself as an object is accused of selfishness and eccentricity. But such knowledge has nothing to do with the ego’s subjective knowledge of itself…. The distinction between “quis” and “quid” is crucial: whereas “quis” has an unmistakably personal aspect and refers to the ego, “quid” is neuter, predicating nothing except an object which is not endowed even with personality…. The difference between knowledge of the ego and knowledge of the self could hardly be formulated more trenchantly than in this distinction between “quis” and “quid.”… Causes and ends thus transcend consciousness to a degree that ought not to be underestimated, and this implies that their nature and action are unalterable and irreversible so long as they have not become objects of consciousness. They can only be corrected through conscious insight and moral determination, which is why self-knowledge, being so necessary, is feared so much.”

Jung expands his theory of the Self by further relating the symbols of fairytales, myths, and religious dogma, “That is why it is so extremely important to tell children fairytales and legends, and to inculcate religious ideas (dogmas) into grown-ups, because these things are instrumental symbols with whose help unconscious contents can be canalized into consciousness, interpreted, and integrated…. For the alchemist it was clear that the “centre,” or what we would call the self, does not lie in the ego but is outside it, “in us” yet not “in our mind,” being located rather in that which we unconsciously are, “the quid” which we still have to recognize. Today we would call it the unconscious, and we distinguish between a personal unconscious which enables us to recognize the shadow and an impersonal unconscious which enables us to recognize the archetypal symbol of the self…. The centre was paradoxically in man and yet at the same time outside him.”

Modernity and tradition do not mix. Today, there has been a tendency to toss out the irrational and the arcane. Jung states, “Like a snake changing its skin, the old myth needs to be clothed anew in every renewed age if it is not to lose its therapeutic effect.” He feels that modernity has gone terribly awry. “Naturally the present tendency to destroy all tradition or render it unconscious could interrupt the normal process of development for several hundred years and substitute an interlude of barbarism.” Elsewhere, he expands, “The destruction of the God-image is followed by the annulment of the human personality. Materialistic atheism with its utopian chimeras forms the religion of all those rationalistic movements which delegate the freedom of personality to the masses and thereby extinguish it.”

Jung puts great stake in the role of opposition in the formation of the Self. “Most people do not have sufficient range of consciousness to become aware of the opposites inherent in human nature. The tensions they generate remain for the most part unconscious, but can appear in dreams. Traditionally, the snake stands for the vulnerable spot in man: it personifies his shadow, i.e., his weakness and unconsciousness. The greatest danger about unconsciousness is proneness to suggestion. The effect of suggestion is due to the release of an unconscious dynamic, and the more unconscious this is, the more effective it will be. Hence the ever-widening split between conscious and unconscious increases the danger of psychic infection and mass psychosis. With the loss of symbolic ideas the bridge to the unconscious has broken down. Instinct no longer affords the protection against unsound ideas and empty slogans. Rationality without tradition and without a basis in instinct is proof against no absurdity.” Jung expounds on the symbol of the snake, “Since the shadow, in itself, is unconscious for most people, the snake would correspond to what is totally unconscious and incapable of becoming conscious, but which, as the collective unconscious and as instinct, seems to possess a peculiar wisdom of its own and a knowledge that is often felt to be supernatural. This is the treasure which the snake (or dragon) guards, and also the reason why the snake signifies evil and darkness on the one hand and wisdom on the other.”

Finally, Jung relates that the Self is ever-changing, “Consciousness and understanding arise from discrimination, that is, through analysis (dissolution) followed by synthesis, as stated in symbolical terms by the alchemical dictum: “Solve et coagula” (dissolve and coagulate)…. The formula presents a symbol of the self, for the self is not just a static quantity or constant form, but is also a dynamic process.” The circle is the proper symbol, “The alchemists were fond of picturing their opus as a circulatory process, as a circular distillation or as the uroboros, the snake biting its own tail…. That is why the lapis, as prima materia, stands at the beginning of the process as well as at the end.”

“Meno” by Plato (translated by G.M.A. Grube)

This short dialogue has Socrates speaking with Meno, a young aristocrat from Thessaly, about the nature of virtue. Particularly, they are interested in figuring out whether virtue is innate or whether it can be learned. In fact, Meno initially asks, “Can you tell me, Socrates, can virtue be taught? Or is it not teachable but the result of practice, or is it neither of these, but men possess it by nature or in some other way?” After some typically frustrating Socratic back and forth, Meno remains apoplectic, “But, Socrates, do you really not know what virtue is?” Socrates responds typically, “Not only that, my friend, but also that, as I believe, I have never met anyone else who did know.”

Before revealing his answer in his usual roundabout manner, Socrates delves into a couple fruitful asides. The first is on the nature of shape and color. Socrates states, “Let us try to tell you what shape is. See whether you will accept that it is this: Let us say that shape is that which alone of existing things always follows color…. From this you may understand what I mean by shape, for I say this of every shape, that a shape is that which limits a solid; in a word, a shape is the limit of a solid.” Secondly (and more famously), Socrates delves into the paradox of knowledge and learning, the so-called Meno’s Paradox, “Do you realize what a debater’s argument you are bringing up, that a man cannot search either for what he knows or for what he does not know? He cannot search for what he knows—since he knows it, there is no need to search—nor for what he does not know, for he does not know what to look for.”

Next, Socrates goes into yet another digression on the Sophists and their inability to teach virtue. He then recites a litany of the great men of Athens and pontificates on their inabilities to teach their own sons virtue, at one point even insulting Anytus, Meno’s host while in Athens. Socrates is not deterred, concluding by speaking about the Athenian statesman (not the historian), “Reflect that Thucydides too brought up two sons, Melesias and Stephanus, that he educated them well in all other things. They were the best wrestlers in Athens…. He belonged to a great house; he had great influence in the city and among other Greeks, so that if virtue could be taught he would have found the man who could make his sons good men, be it a citizen or a stranger, if he himself did not have the time because of his public concerns. But, friend Anytus, virtue certainly cannot be taught.” The implications for the sons of Athens (and their qualities) are left unsaid.

Socrates, finally, wraps up this debate (largely with himself), letting both Anytus and Meno off the hook. Socrates concludes, “True opinion is in no way a worse guide to correct action than knowledge. It is this that we omitted in our investigation of the nature of virtue, when we said that only knowledge can lead to correct action, for true opinion can do so also…. For true opinions, as long as they remain, are a fine thing and all they do is good, but they are not willing to remain long, and they escape from a man’s mind, so they are not worth much until one ties them down by (giving) an account of the reason why. And that, Meno, my friend, is recollection, as we previously agreed. After they are tied down, in the first place they become knowledge, and then they remain in place. That is why knowledge is prized higher than correct opinion…. And that only these two things, true belief and knowledge, guide correctly, and that if a man possesses these he gives correct guidance. The things that turn out right by some chance are not due to human guidance, but where there is correct human guidance it is due to two things, true belief and knowledge…. Now because it cannot be taught, virtue no longer seems to be knowledge…. Therefore, if it is not through knowledge, the only alternative is that it is through right opinion that statesmen follow the right course for their cities. As regards knowledge, they are no different from soothsayers and prophets…. Virtue would be neither an inborn quality nor taught, but comes to those who possess it as a gift from the gods which is not accompanied by understanding.”

“The Hebrew Bible: Numbers” (translated by Robert Alter)

Alter states that the Book of Numbers “returns to the narrative impulse that marks the first half of Exodus…. We are repeatedly reminded of the passing of generations as the story carries us to the border of the promised land…. But if Israel is on the move from chapter 11 to the end, it must be said that this text associates movement with trouble…. We have a repetition of the same scene involving the same actors—Israel, Moses, and God—manifesting a certain intensification more than significant variation from one recurrence to the next…. One suspects that all these repetitions of the scene of murmuring are introduced because the writers conceived it as a paradigm for the subsequent history of Israel: recurrent resentment of God’s rule and of the authority of His legitimate leaders, chronic attraction to objects of base material desire, fearfulness, divisiveness, and the consequences of national disaster brought about, in the view of the biblical writers, by this whole pattern of constant backsliding…. This generation that cannot free itself from the slave mentality it brought with it from Egypt also constitutes the beginnings of a people meant to realize a grand historical destiny.”

In his introduction, Alter reveals that the Book of Numbers incorporates much verse into the flow of its narrative. “It is the striking poetic insets in Numbers that account for much of its distinctive quality among the books of the Bible…. It is an interesting question why such scraps of old verse should have been incorporated in the Book of Numbers…. I would like to propose that these fragments of old poems are introduced into the narrative of Numbers at least in part in order to produce an “antiquity effect.” There is no way of knowing whether Hebrew audiences in, say, the ninth century B.C.E. were still familiar with the Book of the Battles of YHWH, or whether it was already a lost work…. The point, in any case, of the fragmentary quotation, triggered in context by the geographical references, would have been to evoke a distant moment in early Israelite history…. The biblical self-perception of the Israelite nation as a latecomer to the historical scene is palpably present here.”

In Numbers 5:2, Alter explains that impurity was not always an issue of morality, “by a corpse: Literally, “for a [dead] person,” lanafesh. All three of these categories of impurity are clearly cultic, not moral. Pathology and death are viewed as contaminants, and the camp of Israel in the wilderness, in which God’s presence dwells with a specific locus in the Tabernacle, must be kept free of them.”

Alter relates both the poetic and historic natures of the blessing in Numbers 6:23-27, “‘Thus shall you bless the Israelites. Say to them: May the Lord bless you and guard you./ May the Lord light up His face to you and grant grace to you;/ May the Lord lift up His face to you and give you peace.’ And they shall set My name over the Israelites, and I myself shall bless them.” This cadenced threefold blessing came to play a central liturgical role for both Jews and Christians, and probably began to serve that function even in the biblical period…. After the pronouncing of the threefold blessing, God’s name, a kind of divine proprietorship, will be set over Israel, and God Himself will carry out the blessing.” Alter relates how the Bible incorporates all the physical senses. In Numbers 10:2, Alter describes the introduction of sound, “two silver trumpets. After all the lists of the early chapters of Numbers, the visual pageantry of the Tabernacle furnishings, and the deployment of the tribal troops with their banners, sound enters the text—in essence, musical flourishes, a pageantry of sound. These particular sounds are in the first instance the signal for the forward movement of the camp, and so propel the whole story from the long stasis of the stay at Sinai into the narrative of wanderings that constitutes much of what follows.”

In Numbers 15:38, Alter details a historical tidbit, which also relates to the issue of word choice in translation, “an indigo twist. Though indigo may be a reasonable approximation of the color in question, it should be noted that the dye is not derived from a plant, as is indigo, but from a substance secreted by the murex, harvested off the coast of Phoenicia…. The extraction and preparation of this dye were labor-intensive and thus made quite costly. It was used for royal garments in many places in the Mediterranean region, and in Israel it was also used for priestly garments and for the cloth furnishings of the Tabernacle. One may infer that the indigo twist was a token of the idea that Israel should become a “kingdom of priests and a holy nation” and perhaps also that, as the covenanted people, metaphorically God’s firstborn, the nation as a whole had royal status…. The indigo twist—Rashi even seeks to link it with the color of the sky on the night of the Exodus—is thus a reminder not only of the commandments but of the liberation from slavery, prelude to the Sinai epiphany through which Israel took on the obligation to become a kingdom of priests. The once enslaved people is henceforth to wear a constant token of royalty and sanctity.”

The recurrent use of the envelope structure is once again used in Numbers 19:32, “you shall not bear offense for it . . . and you shall not profane the holy things . . . and you shall not die. This whole unit of instructions to the Aaronides closes in an envelope structure: the danger of suffering the consequences of violating the sanctuary, invoked at the beginning, recurs now on a note of reassurance: because these tithes of agricultural offerings are the priests’ just wages for their service in the cult, they run no risk of perishing for having eaten consecrated foodstuffs.”

Alter helpfully points out rare occurrences of all kinds within the biblical narrative. In Numbers 22:28, he notes, “And the Lord opened the ass’s mouth. This is the only talking animal, if one excludes the mythological serpent in the Garden story, in the entire Bible…. The talking ass is perfectly in accord with the theological assumption of the story: if God absolutely controls blessings and curses and vision, He can do the same for speech.” In Numbers 23:23, Alter describes a difference between the monotheism of Israel and their polytheistic neighbors, “Now be it said to Jacob/ and to Israel what el has wrought. This line of verse follows directly from the assertion that there is no divining in Israel. Other nations may foolishly have recourse to soothsayers and word-magic professionals like Balaam, but Israel is immediately informed, whether through prophets or direct divine revelation, what God’s designs are.” Alter admits when a smooth translation is a challenge. In Numbers 24:23-24, he states, “who can love more than El has set him,/ and ships from the hands of the Kittites. An honest translator must admit that the Hebrew text here is not intelligible, and that the nexus between the seemingly philosophical pronouncement of the first verset and the invocation of a Mediterranean fleet in the second verset is obscure.”

In Numbers 28:2, Alter details the issue of biblical chronology. He states, “My offering. The end of the previous chapter was clearly what should have been the penultimate moment of the Moses story: Moses summoned to the mountaintop where he will be gathered to his kin and where he is enjoined to pass the leadership on to Joshua. Now, however, the Priestly redactors, pursuing their own professional concern with the cult, introduce a large block of material stipulating regulations for sacrifices…. One could scarcely find a more emphatic illustration of the rabbinic principle that “there is neither early nor late in the Torah,” i.e., that the text of the Torah passed down to us does not exhibit consistent chronological sequence.” Finally, in Numbers 36:13, Alter concludes, “in the steppes of Moab by the Jordan across from Jericho…. It is fitting that “Jericho” should be the last word in the Book of Numbers. Jericho will be the first military objective when the Israelites cross the Jordan, and so the concluding word here points forward to the beginning of Joshua.”

“The Disappearance of Rituals: A Topology of the Present” by Byung-Chul Han (translated by Daniel Steuer)

This essay deals with importance of ritual and its disappearance in the modern world. Han begins, “Rituals serve as a background against which our present times may seem to stand out more clearly…. Rituals are symbolic acts. They represent, and pass on, the values and orders on which a community is based…. Today, the world is symbol poor…. We can define rituals as symbolic techniques of making oneself at home in the world. They transform being-in-the-world into a being-at-home. They are to time what a home is to space: they render time habitable.” Han focuses on ritual’s role in lessening the importance of the Self and creating community, “Rituals are also symbolic practices, practices of symballein, in the sense that they bring people together and create an alliance, a wholeness, a community…. Rituals produce a distance from the self, a self-transcendence.” Han also emphasizes the role of the physical, “Rituals are processes of embodiment and bodily performances. In them, the valid order and values of a community are physically experienced and solidified.”

Han contrasts the modern notion of authenticity with the communal notions of ritual. “The society of authenticity is a performance society…. Authenticity is in fact the enemy of community. The narcissism of authenticity undermines community…. The cult of authenticity shifts the question of identity from society to the individual person. Within the cult of authenticity, the production of self becomes a permanent activity…. Authenticity is a neoliberal form of production. You exploit yourself voluntarily in the belief that you are realizing yourself…. Today, the world is not a theatre in which roles are played and ritual gestures exchanged, but a market in which one exposes and exhibits oneself…. In the name of authenticity or genuineness, the semblance of beauty, the ritual gesture, is today discarded as something purely external. But this genuineness is, in truth, crudeness and barbarity…. We live in a culture of the affect. Where ritual gestures and manners decay, affect and emotion gain the upper hand.”

All rituals of politeness have been discarded by modernity. “A ritual of politeness is not an expression of subjective feeling; it is an objective act. It resembles a magical invocation that produces a positive mental state…. In a society of authenticity, actions are guided internally, motivated psychologically, whereas in ritual societies actions are determined by externalized forms of interaction. Rituals make the world objective…. Politeness is pure form. Nothing is intended by it. It is empty. As a ritual form, it is devoid of any moral content…. As a form of ritual, politeness is without heart and without desire, without wish. It is more art than morality. It exhausts itself in the pure exchange of ritual gestures…. Forms of politeness are disappearing, disregarded by the cult of authenticity. Beautiful forms of conduct are becoming ever rarer…. The more moralizing a society, the more impolite it is.”

Han also laments the loss of pageantry, play, and festival. Today, all life is mere work. Modernity is the consumption society par excellence. One only stops to rest so that he may work some more. “Rituals and ceremonies are the genuinely human acts which allow life to appear to be an enchanting, celebratory affair…. As forms of play, festivals are self-representations of life. They are characterized by an excess, an expression of an overflowing life that does not aim at a goal…. In the festival, life relates to itself instead of subordinating itself to external purposes…. The time of the festival is time standing still…. It thus makes lingering possible. Time as a sequence of transient, fleeting moments is suspended. There is no goal one walks towards.” To linger and to contemplate has been lost in the hustle and bustle for ever more. “Sabbath rest does not follow creation; it brings creation to completion…. Rest belongs to the sphere of the sacred…. It transcends work, and it must in no way come into contact with work…. Rest and work represent two fundamentally different existential forms.” Ritual, even in the everyday, marks the passage of time. “Rituals give form to the essential transitions of life. They are forms of closure…. Thresholds, as transitions, give rhythm to, articulate, and even narrate space and time…. What must be won back is contemplative rest. If our life is deprived of all its contemplative elements, we become suffocated by our own activity.”