Maverick Philosopher

Lev Shestov on the Fall of Man

Substack latest.

Shestov on the Fool

Lev Shestov (1866-1938), Job's Balances:

"The fool said in his heart: There is no God." Sometimes this is a sign of the end and of death. Sometimes of the beginning and of life. As soon as man feels that God is not, he suddenly comprehends the frightful horror and the wild folly of human temporal existence, and when he has comprehended this he awakes, perhaps not to the ultimate knowledge but to the penultimate. Was it not so with Nietzsche, Spinoza, Pascal, Luther, Augustine, even with St. Paul?

Quoted from D. M. White, Eternal Quest (Paragon, 1991), p. 111.

The penutimate knowledge, I take it, would be the knowledge that without God, life is meaningless, "a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." This was Nietzsche's knowledge, and Nietzsche's dead end. The ultimate knowledge would then be the knowledge that God exists, a knowledge that begins in earnest once one has come through the Great Doubt expressed by the fool.

The Apotheosis of Groundlessness

The above is a literal translation of the title of Lev Shestov's Apofeoz Besphochvennosti (1905). I much prefer it to All Things are Possible. I suppose the business types, worried about sales, had the last word: Apoplexy of What??

I have a couple of substantial entries on Shestov.

Lev Shestov on Husserl

Lev Shestov's Irrationalist-Existentialist Reading of the Fall of Man

Czeslaw Milosz on Lev Shestov

Shestov, or the Purity of Despair

Lev Shestov on Edmund Husserl

In Memory of a Great Philosopher

It is just at this point that we find the most enigmatic and significant contribution of Husserl's philosophy. For here the question arises: Why did Husserl demand with such extraordinary insistence that I read Kierkegaard? For Kierkegaard, in contrast to Husserl, sought the truth not in reason but in the Absurd. For him the law of contradiction - like an angel with a drawn sword, stationed by God at the entrance to Paradise - bears no witness to the truth and in no way defines the boundaries which separate the possible from the impossible. For Kierkegaard, philosophy (which he calls "existential") begins precisely at that point where reason sees, with the force of self-evidence, that all possibilities have already been exhausted, that everything is finished, that nothing remains but for man to look and grow cold. Kierkegaard here introduces into philosophy what he calls "faith," defined as "an insane struggle for the possible," that is, for the possibility of the impossible - clearly alluding to the words of Scripture: Man's wisdom is folly in the sight of the Lord. 

Men fear folly and madness more than anything else in the world. Kierkegaard knows this; he repeatedly asserts that human frailty is afraid to look into the eyes of death and madness. To be sure, we read in the Phaedo that philosophy is "a preparation for death," that all men who have genuinely devoted themselves to philosophy, although "they may have concealed it from others, have done nothing else than prepare themselves for the act of dying and the fact of death." It seems likely that these extraordinary ideas were suggested to Plato by the death of Socrates. Plato did not return to them; he was wholly absorbed in the Republic and the Laws, even in his extreme old age - thus fulfilling, like ordinary mortals and gladiators, the age-old demand: salve, Caesar, morituri te salutant. Even in the face of death men cannot tear themselves away from "Caesar," from what everyone accepts as "reality." And this is "natural"! For how are we to understand the "preparation for death"? Is it not a beginning of, and preparation for, the struggle against the demonstrative character of proof, against the law of contradiction, against reason s claim to unlimited rights, its seizure of the power of arbitrary definition of the point at which possibility ends and impossibility begins - the struggle against the angel who stands with drawn sword at the gate of Paradise? It seems to the inexperienced gaze that this measureless power rightfully belongs to reason, and that there is nothing dreadful or threatening in the fact that it does. 

Ave Caesar Morituri te Salutant, by Jean-Léon Gérôme (1859), depicting gladiators greeting Vitellius

"Hail Caesar, we who  are about to die salute you."

Lev Shestov's Irrationalist-Existentialist Reading of the Fall of Man

It is important to distinguish between the putative fact of human fallenness and the various theories and doctrines about what this fall consists in and how it came about.  The necessity of this distinction is obvious:  different philosophers and theologians and denominations who accept the Fall have different views about the exact nature of this event or state. I use 'fact' advisedly.  It is unlikely that we will be able to peel back to a level of bare factuality uncontaminated by any theory or interpretation.  Surely G. K. Chesterton is involved in an egregious exaggeration when he writes in effect that our fallen condition is a fact as "plain as potatoes."  (See here for quotation and critique.)  But while it is not a plain empirical fact that we are fallen beings, it is not a groundless speculation or bit of theological mystification either. 

It is widely recognized that there is something deeply unsatisfactory about the human condition, and that this deep unsatisfactoriness is both universal across time and space and apparently unameliorable by anything we do, either individually or collectively.  Indeed, the prodigious efforts made in amelioration have in notable cases made things vastly worse.  (The Communists, to take but one example, murdered 100 million in their ill-starred attempt at fundamentally improving the human condition.)   This sort of 'ameliorative backfire'  is a feature of our fallenness as is the refusal of many to admit that we are fallen, not to mention the cacophany of conficting theories as to what our fallenness consists in.  We are up to our necks in every manner of contention, crime and depravity.  One would have to be quite the polyanna to deny that there is something deeply wrong with the world and the people in it, or to think that we are going to set things right by our own efforts. We know from experience that there is no good reason to believe that.  The problem is not 'society' or anything external to us.  The problem is us.  In particular, the problem is not them as opposed to us, but us, all of us. 

So that's an important  first distinction.  There is the fact or quasi-fact of fallenness and there are the various theories about it.  If you fail to make this distinction and identify the Fall with some particular theory of it, then you may end up like the foolish biologist who thought that the Fall is refuted by evolutionary biology according to which there were no such original human animals as Adam and Eve.  To refute one of the theories of the Fall is not to refute the 'fact' of the Fall. 

Lev Shestov, the Russian existentialist and irrationalist,  has an interesting theory which it is the purpose of this post briefly to characterize and criticize. I take as my text an address he delivered at the Academy of Religion and Philosophy  in Paris, May 5, 1935.

 

 

 Start with the 'fact' of  deep, universal, unameliorable-by-us unsatisfactoriness.  Is this unsatisfactoriness inscribed into the very structure of Being?  Is it therefore necessary and unavoidable except by entry into nonbeing?  Shestov thinks that for the philosophers of West and East it is so:  "In being itself human thought has discovered something wrong, a defect, a sickness, a sin, and accordingly wisdom has demanded the vanquishing of that sin at its roots; in other words, a renunciation of being which, since it has a beginning, is fated inevitably to end."  (p. 2) Buddha and Schopenhauer serve as good illustrations, though Shestov doesn't mention them.  Shestov, of course, is one of those for whom Athens and Jerusalem are mortal enemies ever at loggerheads.  And so it comes as no surprise that he opposes the revealed truth of the Book of books, the Bible, to the wisdom of the philosophers.  For the philosophers, the deep wrongness of the world is rooted in its very Being and is therefore essential to it;  but for the Bible the world is good, as having been created by a good God, and its deep deficiency is contingent, not necessary:

What is said in it [the Bible] directly contradicts what men have found out through their intellectual vision. Everything, as we read in the very beginning of the Book of Genesis, was made by the Creator, everything had a beginning. But this not only is not seen as a precondition of the decay, imperfection, corruption, and sinfulness of being; on the contrary, it is an assurance of all possible good in the universe. (2)

Since the source of all being, God, is all-good, to be, as such, is good. But whence then evil? The Bible-based theist cannot say that being itself harbors imperfection and evil; so where did evil come from?

Scripture gives a definite answer to this question. God planted among the other trees in the Garden of Eden the tree of life and the tree of knowledge of good and evil. And He said to the first man: "Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat: but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die." But the tempter . . . said: "No, ye shall not die; your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing." Man succumbed to temptation, ate of the forbidden fruit; his eyes were opened and he became knowing. What was revealed to him? What did he find out? He learned the same thing that the Greek philosophers and Hindu sages had learned: the "it is good" uttered by God was not justified—all is not good in the created world. There must be evil and, what is more, much evil, intolerable evil, in the created world, precisely because it is created. Everything around us—the immediate data of consciousness—testifies to this with unquestionable evidence; he who looks at the world with open eyes," he who "knows," can draw no other conclusion. At the very moment when man became "knowing," sin entered the world; in other words, it entered together with "knowledge"—and after sin came evil. This is what the Bible tells us. (p. 3, emphasis added)

Whence the horrors of life, the deep-going unsatisfactoriness that the Buddha announces in the first of his Noble Truths, Sarvam dukkham?  The answer from Athens and Benares is that being is defective in itself, essentially and irremediably.  And it doesn't matter whether finite being is created by God or uncreated.  Finite being as being is intrinsically defective.  The answer from the Bible according to Shestov  is that "sin and evil arise from 'knowledge,' from 'open eyes,' from 'intellectual vision,' that is, from the fruit of the forbidden tree."

This is an amazing interpretation.  Shestov is claiming that the Fall of Man consists in his embracing of philosophy and its child science, his discovery and use of reason, his attempt to figure things out for himself by laying hold of law-like and thus necessary structures of the world.  The Fall is the fall into knowledge.  Like his mentor Kierkegaard, Shestov rails against the hyper-rationalism of Hegel who "accepts from the Bible only what can be 'justified' before rational consciousness" (p. 5).  "And it never for a moment entered into Hegel's mind that in this lies the terrible, fatal Fall, that 'knowledge' does not make a man equal to God, but tears him away from God, putting him in the clutches of a dead and deadening 'truth.' (p. 6)

My first problem with this is the substitution of 'tree of knowledge' for 'tree of the knowledge of good and evil.'  I don't find any justification for that substitution in the text under examination.  Surely moral knowledge, if knowledge at all, is but a proper part of knowledge in general.

But it is worse than this.  Shestov thinks of God as a being for whom all things are possible.  This is connected with his beef with necessity and with reason as revelatory of necessity. "What handed man over to the power of Necessity?" (p. 12)  He quotes Kierkegaard:  "God signifies that everything is possible, and that everything is possible signifies God."  But this leads straightaway to absurdities -- a fact that will of course not disturb the equanimity of an absurdist and irrationalist like Shestov.

If God is defined as the being for whom all is possible, then nothing is necessary and everything that exists is contingent, including God, all truths about God, and the moral laws. And if all things are possible, then it is possible that some things are impossible.  Therefore, possibly (All things are possible & Some things are not possible), whence it follows that it is possible that some contradictions are true. 

So the position Shestov is absurd, which fact will not budge him, he being an embracer of absurdities.  But it does give us a reason to ignore him and his interpretation of the Fall.  So I consider his theory of the Fall refuted.