Some Things to Consider. . .

        Thales said, "Know Thyself." What did he mean? Why is it necessary to explore who you are and what you mean? Why didn't Thales tell us how to go about finding this knowledge? Is there a specific effective method, or is the path ambiguous? Who are you? What do people ask themselves about themselves, and how does one go about finding the answers? How do we define ourselves as individuals against the mass of other individuals? What does it mean to be self-aware? Is the self a unity, or do we perceive several disparate selves within our selves? As Walker Percy asks, how can we know so much about quasars and black holes, and so little about ourselves?

         . . . Yet there is a sense in which our own age does seem to be unique, a sense in which the search for self-knowledge is historically conditioned. We must start form the historical fact that we live in "the age of theory." Shortly before he died in 1990, Walker Percy described the twentieth century as "the most scientifically advanced, savage, democratic, inhuman, sentimental, murderous century in human history." The name Percy gives to this present "demented" age is "the age of theory." The human being who seeks to understand himself in this demented age is compelled to wander in the desert: "the self finds itself ever more conspicuously without a place in the modern world, which is perfectly understood by theorizing." The self is without a place because theory can never encompass the self. Hence, the second part, the other side, of Percy's description: this is the age of the theorist-consumer: "The consumer, who thought he knew what he wanted-the consumption of the goods and services of scientific theory-is not in fact satisfied, even when the services offered are such techniques as 'personal growth,' 'emotional maturity,' 'consciousness-raising,' and suchlike." The theorist and the consumer are two sides of the same coin; they are the same individual. But neither is satisfied, both are lost in the desert. The division of the self into an all-transcending objective consciousness and a consumer-self with a list of needs is the condition that Percy characterizes as the "monstrous bifurcation of man into angelic and bestial components."

        The self that others perceive in a given individual is not the self which is in actuality the complete self of that individual. In whatever capacity or through whatever duration we are acquainted with someone, we gather an incomplete vision of them as a human being. Ironically, the internal self to the individual-that of which the individual is "self-aware"-is not more complete than the perceptions of others. From within, the perspective of the internal eye is limited in its perceptive capacity; like the physical eye, it cannot see itself.

        It is also highly biased. This bias, being a product of the same experiences which shape the character of the self, limits the ability for objective judgment. Being aware of this impediment to the journey of self-knowledge does not negate the blindness which one incurs from it. Yet we endeavor to perpetually accumulate more and more understanding of who we are and what we mean in the vast scheme of things. The accuracy of our self-knowledge seems to parallel the graph of a cubic function; ever approaching the axis line, yet always with distance to cover. Analogically more descriptive, Gabriel's Horn, a solid produced when the region R = {(x,y) x 1,0 y 1/x} is rotated around the x-axis, will have an infinite surface area-and a finite volume! Like the self-an infinite number of external points of expression, a finite volume of knowledge which can be attained.

        This figure for analogy is no Klein bottle; the parameters of the inside remain distinct from the external. Though part of the same whole, there remain two diverse perspectives. What others see from the outside is a projection, some of which the individual is conscious and some of which he or she is not aware, of some limited combination of the infinite points of expression of which that individual is capable. Given the extraordinary ambiguities, how do we extract definition and meaning from our limited knowledge of the self? When faced with the Cartesian cogito ergo sum, we can accept the simple statement in and of itself, but how do we comprehend the integral parts of the composite whole of the "I"? We attempt to define, label, and categorize-in good enlightenment fashion-the characteristics of the individual self and the influences and experiences which build a cohesion of the diverse particulars. We are led to believe that the self is simply a universal set S (which in itself is a subset of the universal set of Other Selves, etc.), and that if we can identify the given members of the subset which comprise the individual set S then we have adequately discovered what the self is. We envision a human ability to rationalize and define everything and we implement paradigms and models, and that which does not fit our contrived system is characterized, an anomaly, in its own particular category.

        Yet it seems that the more we attempt to systematically define the self, the less accurate our understanding of what the self is becomes. If we define the self as X thing, then X is separate and distinct from that thing which is naming and defining it. It cannot define itself, for it cannot know itself completely, yet it cannot be understood externally, for it cannot be fully comprehended from an external perspective. This dilemma is related to another: there is always the problem of the "I" that defines the "I". So where do our paradigms and theories leave us?

        Dr. Ann Hartle, in her book Self-Knowledge in the Age of Theory, proclaims that "Theory cannot speak to the passions and cannot form character. . .the self cannot be encompassed by theory" (xiii). Through all of our efforts to define and categorize the self in a contrived, contained system, we lose the elements which create meaning in our character. And we lose the elements of passions which make us human. What do we mean by "lose" them? It seems to me that where we encounter a concept which we cannot reconcile within our systems, we tend to lose interest in them. We lose touch with them. We lose our sense of their importance until we feel that the importance previously placed on them was misplaced. When we name and define something, we lose what other elements it may have had by restricting it to a particular denotation. The definition of the self and its restriction in being conformed to given theories limit the self's extent as a self.

        Dr. Hartle also speaks of alternative methods for the acquisition of self-knowledge, such as anti-theory. Where theory attempts to generalize everything into neat categories which defy individuality, the attempts of anti-theory to get outside of the constraints of theory particularize aspects of the self into their separation from the whole. Theory renders us selfless by absorption; anti-theory renders us selfless by removing us from our social context. The relativism of anti-theory destroys ethics as each self's circumstances become their own justification for action.

        Is there an adequate means by which to conduct this search? Can we find ourselves? What are some other possible approaches to the problem? Join us on April 9^th to explore this topic. . .

     The Oxford Dictionary of Current English says that the self is "individuality, personality, or essence"; an "object of introspection or reflexive action"; or "one's own interests or pleasure, or concentration on these." Keeping in mind that Dr. Johnson defined lexicographers as "harmless drudges," let's ask a few questions about this definition.

     If we say that the self is individuality, then we must, of course,  know what individuality is.  According to this dictionary it would mean something along the lines of being a distinct and unique human being in the class of humans.  What characteristics, internal or external, concrete or abstract, does one individual have that no other individual possesses?  Or do we mean a distinct combination of non-unique characteristics which differentiate one being from another?

      Would we say that each individual has unique experiences which shape her or his personality?  Why can't two people have the same experience? Is it necessarily the experience which is shaping us or do we also shape the experience in some way through individual perspective and interpretation?  What causes each of us to interpret experiences differently? (And what, for that matter,–for the Humians out there–"causes" us to assume there is a cause?)

     Essence, according to this dictionary, has to do with a "fundamental nature" or "inherent characteristics."  Fundamental is a "foundation" (and, recursively, "essential").  If the self is the essence of the being–the basis or foundation for that being–then surely we know what the constituent parts of this basis are and what precisely they are the foundation for.  (If we're not sure, we can simply look up "self.")  And as for the second definition, we have defined the self as inherent (essence) and as acquired (personality).

     If, on the other hand, we go with the second definition and say that the self is the object of introspection, what is examining the thoughts of what? Which part is the self–the subject or the object?  Can the subject and the object be the same thing?  Not according to this dictionary. . .

     "Harmless drudge?"  I think not.  I could enjoy writing at length about why this definition gives me a headache.  But the problem is denotation in general.  Of course it can break down if we analyze it to death.  And for some reason words seem to be inadequate to convey what we mean by other words, which implies not only that language itself is dynamic, but also that there is some element of meaning that is restricted by definition. Definition is not equivalent to meaning–it is a limited expression thereof.

      So what is it exactly that we are looking for when we are trying to define the self?  Surely we don't mean to restrict it.  Are we trying to understand something that is beyond language's capacity to convey?  What does that imply about language and understanding?  What does that imply about the self?