Arthur Schopenhauer: Religion: A Dialogue, and Other Essays

 In the margin of "Psychological Observations", one of the essays in this collection, next to the sentence "It is true, indeed, that character always forms a consistent and connected whole; but the roots of all its qualities lie too deep to allow of our concluding from particular data in a given case whether certain qualities can or cannot exist together," I have scrawled angrily, "Ummm . . . then why do you do it so often?" (64).  This was neither the first nor the last time that Schopenhauer inadvertently revealed his blind spot in this collection, but it was the most suitably anecdotal.  The perceptiveness, objectivity, and rational acuity that he brings to bear resonate nicely with my own skeptical, even cold, nature.  He lacks, however, a certain quality, of which deficit he seems unaware, even as he sings its praises: perspective.  

I have written before about Schopenhauer being imprisoned in his own experience, but the irony in this collection is that he specifically praises the virtues of a broad perspective, even while failing to notice the walls of the well in which he is sulking.  He seems incapable of noticing the inconsistency of claiming that women are incapable of patience, and then on the same page proclaiming, "The course of our individual life . . . may be compared to a piece of rough mosaic.  So long as you stand right in front of it, you cannot get a right view of the objects presented.".  He proposes that "we can get a general view only from a distance," while stubbornly refusing to adopt such a distance himself (65-66).  

Thus is it that we find such glories of reason and objectivity as the titular dialogue on religion--incomparably and shockingly fair in its treatment--in the same volume as such grievously outdated items as "On Physiognomy", wherein he asserts that everything you need to know about a man is visible in his face.  When it comes to things he knows, Schopenhauer is incisive, fearless, and to my belief correct.  When he speaks of things of which he doesn't know, the results are far more mixed.  This is, of course, so normal and human as to be a solipsism, and not a problem in itself.  The problem is that Schopenhauer doesn't know what he doesn't know, and thus treats himself as an authority in areas where he is laughably oblivious.

Which fault makes me think about my own blindspots.  Both by nature and by nurture, I am pretty sympathetic to Schopenhauer.  I too look at the world, and see it as objectively evil and cruel, and furthermore especially evil and cruel to those like me who can see it clearly.  I too despair of reality, of human existence at least, and cannot keep quiet about it.  It's possible that I see one layer beyond what Schopenhauer can, that where my reasoning, education, or intelligence trail his, at least my perspective is broader.  I wonder, however, if I am falling into the same trap. Surely there is yet another exponent of this fractal that we inhabit, one beyond what I currently take into account.  What is it that I don't know I don't know?