On the Tragic

§ 1. Goal and Method

It is a long-established practice to begin an investigation by explaining the goal and method. In short, the goal here is to make a contribution to the understanding of the tragic. I will attempt to specify the method when the goal is more precisely defined.

What do I mean by “the tragic”? Is there any doubt about the meaning, or is “the tragic” one of those concepts that has a fairly unique content for all people at all times, such as, for example, the term “the dangerous”? It is certainly not possible to cast “a quick glance” at the theoretical treatment that has been allocated to the concept in Europe over the last 2,200 years, but if it were possible, it would convince us that there is not only doubt about the content, but that there are, in fact, about as many concepts of “the tragic” as there are authors. Perhaps I can align myself with one of the older writers, or combine multiple previous proposals, or establish something intermediate; or do I intend something completely new? Or is it that I indeed have no intention in advance, seeing it as my task to give the concept its appropriate place, on an independent basis, by gradual approximation and plugging of sources of error?

Let us say that this last one is the task. Where will we then take hold? Is there not a danger of making the preconception precisely the definition that one is hoping to achieve? If one stands completely free, how can one find a starting point at all? It does not make sense to cast a net around the whole universe and then little by little to pick out everything that is not tragic, and the expression must indeed mean something. We need to find out what this “something” is.

Where should we begin? Does the subject belong to aesthetics, metaphysics, psychology, dramaturgy, ethics, or natural science? Perhaps even psychiatry, sociology, or literary history? All these viewpoints are represented in “the ancients.” If there is no single identifying mark that runs through all these divergent conceptions, do we have anything else to do but enjoy the atmosphere while the sparks of hope die out?

There are, of course, all the theatrical tragedies. Is “tragedy” therefore a clear concept? Can the word mean nothing more than a play with a tragic course? If not, then we are just as far away. And if it can mean something else – for example, a literary category – then we have not caught the tragic even if we catch the tragedy.

Then we have etymology. From what does the word originate? Tragos – goat; tragedie, tragodia – goat-song. It would indeed be difficult to hear the goat-song in Prometheus, Hamlet, the Book of Job, etc.

But then what about the common linguistic usage? The word is used every day, in newspapers and conversations, in jest and seriousness. “Gypsy^a fight with a tragic end.” “Don’t take that sorry little girl too tragically.”^b All these people must then mean something, and in this meaning there must be something common since it clearly seems they understand each other. I sent a questionnaire to twenty of my acquaintances: “What do you understand by the word tragic? Refer to some examples, etc.” And I received a hail of synonyms: Quite sad, troublesome, woeful, highest degree of sadness, in the neighborhood of disastrous, not to be laughed at, fateful, woeful with dramatic character, pitiful, having something to do with being a shame, sad on a serious basis, but at the same time significant, powerful, attracting and having a certain elevation, our most precious interests suffering shipwreck, irreparable, something being torn away from life, that there is suffering, something hopeless that one cannot prevent, woeful and unpleasant, the opposite of comic, extraordinary misery, unfortunate occurrence, boundless despair, meaningless evil, innocent punishment, complete annihilation, refining woe, pain borne with pride, when a great personality suffers, when goodness is met with punishment, when one expects something better, when there are no comforting factors, when the misfortune could have been avoided; as examples are mentioned war, loss of provider, shattered illusions, egg yolk on a new suit, etc.

Our being stuck is not due to a lack of interpretations, but to whom should we listen? All of them are indeed intelligent, educated people. What now? Send out more forms and determine the result from a simple or three-fourths majority? It still looks pretty dark out.

But of course, I would not have admitted this so boldly if there were not a very slight chance remaining. Are we absolutely certain that the theorists among themselves and all the everyday speakers do not have a single preconception in common? That there is not even anything that is tragic? No, we are not so certain. On the contrary, the vast majority are aware that the word tragic is of central importance, that there is something that requires this word and nothing else, and that the word should be used for this something and not for anything else. One finds everywhere the need for the word tragic, and one wants the word to denote a distinctive and representative quality. No one has yet stepped forward to demonstrate that the expression is superfluous, that the meaning could be covered equally well by other adjectives that do not raise any problems.

We should not be astonished that the phenomenon for which the word stands has never been revealed in such a way that everyone was convinced and the discussion died down. The term can change from time to time, from person to person, and yet there can be something common in the associations that the word awakens, some reality in the immediate “sensation” of the tragic. But where shall one find this “common multiple” for the varied factors, this “geometric location” where the intersecting lines cross? We will find them, when the field is made wide enough, in humankind itself.

Not even the most “ethereal” of the speculative theorists, who in the tragic may see something such as “the idea of release from the finite,” etc., will deny that the tragic, irrespective of its possible metaphysical significance, is an attribute of earthly human fate and manifests itself in the human value struggle, not in the form of “idea” and “limitation,” but attached to concrete collisions between “the self” and nature, the self and God, personalities between themselves, incompatible demands within the individual mind. I have not been able to find in any writer or daily speech an attempt to untie the tragic from the human field of interest, or more precisely, from that part of it which is marked by defeat and downfall.

If we have now gained a feeling of being on a firmer basis, then it is weakened again by the fact that authors designated as “aesthetic” have sought the tragic solely in the theater (in the most read or performed tragic poetry), in a dramatic series of events that emerged innovatively or was cultivated by a creative poet’s mind, and which life outside the theater cannot produce with the same “purity.” There, the viewer is practically focused and incapable of enjoying the “aesthetic” side of the course; thus, the tragic in the course itself also disappears, because the tragic is an aesthetic category. Nevertheless, these researchers are also attempting to establish the conditions for this “tragic-aesthetic” experience coming into play in the theater; thus, they will also be cited when we discuss factors and dynamics in the underlying relationship, that is, the collisions of practical interests and the individuals’ attitudes during them.

Nonetheless, the problem’s subject matter is divided into two: On the one hand, we will have to work with the structure of the tragic phenomenon, with what I will call without deeper meaning the “objectively” tragic, and on the other hand with its distinctive effect on the observer, both in practical life and in poetry and theater. Many writers have gone from a “given” tragic-aesthetic quality of experience and determined the “objectively tragic” according to this. The difficulty then becomes justifying the claim that this particular artistic experience is “the tragic.” Some in their distress reach for the nature of the objective phenomenon, and thereby the circle is closed.

Thus, we find it safer at first to seek out the objectively tragic without worrying about its effect on the mind. And thereby the method is given: it is neither metaphysical nor aesthetic nor anything else other than biological. Perhaps it would be better to say “biologistic,” and even more tempting is “biosophic – thinking about life.” But this has a connotation of mysticism that does not belong here, and if the more common term biological is precisely defined for use in the following, then it performs the service just as well: One uses a biological method, built on a biological basis, when one considers life as a tension between task and ability, as the struggle of organisms to realize their interests, each in its environment. The word interest is at the center here and is the pivot around which the whole consideration rotates.

At the moment, I cannot give any further proof of the viewpoint’s fertility for the present task. I take a chance when I assume that by means of the method chosen life’s variegated weave can be pulled apart so that the elements of the tragic appear. It suits me to work within this viewpoint and not to choose a different one only to have the product come to a halt or fail. It seems to me that the suggested method provides good conditions for an approximation to the formation of a tragic theory for precise research, perhaps just a first approximation, but even this is painfully needed. The method does not preclude the insertion of metaphysical interpretation, for example at any stage of the process, if any should wish; it does not imply any particular notions of life’s origin and transcendental goals or non-goals; it only works with the struggle of life as it appears to the individual experiencing subject.

The procedure is largely this: First, I will try, with particular emphasis on the main theme, to clarify certain basic conditions of organic life and its situation in the earthly environment. This will bring about a first restriction of the subject matter. Starting with organic life as a whole, then treating humans separately, we will try to become aware of what unites (in the crudest way and only for our purpose) and what separates humankind from its fellow creatures in the plant and animal kingdoms. An overview of the animal and human “catastrophe types” will then, according to plan, bring us into the immediate vicinity of the burning questions. In any case, what I hope to disclose this way is whether the – for now hypothetical – tragic phenomenon is naturally linked to organic life as a whole, to human life in general, to certain categories of people, to individual human beings, or to occasionally occurring coincidences or courses. At the same time, we will see whether it is possible to maintain a unified concept of the “tragic” from the biological viewpoint, or whether the term falls apart in case studies. No possibilities within the method’s radius of action shall be eliminated beforehand.

Least promising of all these possibilities will be our simply ascertaining the relationship of the research object to the method. Should the noble target escape despite all efforts, should it turn out to be, for example, that subjective assessments are ultimately decisive, then we must come to terms with this result and seek a lesser comfort in the fact that at least there is a warning sign for those who find themselves at the same intersection. But so long as both the alluring and the discouraging conclusions are as far away as they are at present, we will instead take hold with fresh powers and direct our attention to the tools that must first be provided.

Even the basic questions of research cannot be taken up; it may be the task of others to defend the “scientific” work as a whole against attacks of, for example, a cognitive-critical nature. When it comes to driving in a nail, I have to use the hammer as it is; but this is not the time for theoretical discussions of tool construction. Some tools are considered safer than others; currently, for example, experimental psychology has a favorable reputation. There are indeed scientists who believe the safest method is to simply describe the scientist’s behavior.¹ With such an obscure, ambiguous, complex, extensive, intangible theme as “the tragic,” it is immediately clear that we cannot confine ourselves to this “inner circle” of scientific security. We must work with tools that result in a strong dilution of a possible “scientific pretension,” which in the “exact” scientist’s eyes may indeed seem like pure fraud or more kindly expressed as lyrical fantasy. I am thinking of such things as generalization, introspection, and “co-feeling,” indeed “co-experience” in the imagination with animals and humans on a completely uncontrollable basis. Without such aids, we cannot take hold of our theme; we would rather have what we do not be called science.

However, these reservations do not in any way mean that there should be no discipline or control. The joy of links that become chains, the intoxication of an emerging system, must never lead us to lose contact with the healthiest of all sources of thought – experience. This is a pretension we must not give up; it is the requirement of subjective intellectual integrity.

§ 2. Concerns

Objections from two sides may be raised against the chosen method of “applied biology”: first, from the biologist’s side, who finds his or her science abused, and then from a philosophical and aesthetic point of view, where one refrains from involvement in the scientific way of thinking. Jakob von Uexküll expresses the former objection in Bausteine zu einer biologischen Weltanschauung [Building Blocks to a Biological World View], Munich 1913, p. 67. However, it is not our intention to promote an expanded biology in the academic sense of the term, but merely to consider the organic development of life from the point of view of interest struggle. Nor do we intend to force poetic theory into the terminology of a natural science or to narrow the imagination with biological dogmatism. The method does not interfere more deeply here than the man who cleans an attic; he puts “art and poetry” in one place, but he does not take a stand on the content in any other way.

It is the necessity of specialization that raises such objections. The knowledge base within the individual disciplines has gradually become so great, the methods and the pertinent problems so distinctive throughout, that all attempts to combine the results will be characterized by dilettantism. The researcher who is designated as “polyhistoric” therefore becomes an increasingly rare phenomenon, a cultural type that is about to die out. If one is still out there, one rings with no answer at one closed faculty door after another and is either rejected as an outsider or received and given an indulgent smile – “The greatest biologist among the aestheticians and the greatest aesthetician among the biologists.” And yet one is perhaps an honest laborer in an unknown vineyard, a rich-feeling and farsighted soul whose only error is not settling for registration alone, but through synthetic inspiration the sparks draw from one power chamber to the other, and one uses what one’s diligence has gathered to bring forth the image of humankind’s cosmic condition. For this person, perhaps the real purpose of science is to shed light on the only necessary and eternally burning question: what it means to be human. And when no single discipline has answers to give, then it is the turn of the good dilettante.

This consideration is admittedly an unfortunate choice for validation of my own attempt in a polyhistoric direction. Faced with the work plan that has been laid out up front, I cannot avoid feeling my lack of knowledge with painful force. In order to feel somewhat prepared for such a task, in order to have approximately acquired the normally requisite conditions to accomplish it – as much as it is possible within the framework of a single life – one must be fully familiar with the fields of labor, methods, and prevailing views in a variety of sciences – philosophy, biology and sociology, the history of religion, art, general culture and literature, aesthetics in the broadest sense, psychology, pedagogy, psychiatry and psychoanalysis – to name only the most important. Besides having done a significant amount of special study of tragic poetry and its origin, one has to have lived a rich and direct life, had dangerous enemies and important friends both with and without betrayal, stood in personal and erotic relationship with diverse people, been independent and bound, familiar with one’s own transgressions with stinging shame and worn out under undeserved adversity with exasperated self-esteem, having had to fight for existence with failing resources, known the panicked need for partial or total confirmation, been through the joy of triumph, fortified in heroism’s ecstasy, paralyzed by cowardice and tormented under moral conflicts, collected the fruits of knowledge with a mature mind and vibrating sensitivity, often with periods of depression and world angst, and experienced a number of representative crises and mental breakdowns. Only then could there be the prospect of the resonance chambers in one’s mind firing as the material demands.

The comparison between these relative prerequisites and the qualifications that the author cannot help but admit must necessarily produce a discouraging result. If I, with full awareness of this regrettable situation, have nevertheless embarked on the task, then it happens on the grounds that not everything can wait. If we put off any work until we feel unquestionably competent, many paths would remain untried. Besides, the material has long absorbed me, and the more I read the current literature on the subject, the stronger the desire becomes to try a new orientation, so much more because this captivating theme has never been thoroughly treated in Norway. However, the procedure to be tried lacks clarity in the tradition; thus, I have found it necessary to explain in this introduction the challenges that have arisen at the beginning of the work.

§ 3. Individual and the outside world

In the following discussion, when talking about “the environment,” “the surrounding medium,” “the external world,” etc., this does not mean that the standpoint of realism is taken in the dispute between the cognitive theories of realists and idealists. The terms only have the meaning that a conscious organism is believed to experience its state, at least partly, as a play against a “non-organism,” a “non-I,” an outside world, or a counterworld. Sometimes the expressions do not even mean this but only that we naturally or practically or in our aim toward fruitfulness arrange the biological object of observation in such an opposition. And since it is not our intent to pursue a cognitive theory but only to seek a description of the struggling life as we experience and interpret it (albeit with the means reserved in § 2), to speak of an external world in the everyday meaning of the phrase becomes the only reasonable expression.

The opposition between the individual and the outside world is firstly related to the “principium individuationis,”^a to the distinction between the individual bearers of interest. These then become the outside world for each other. Secondly, the opposition must be sought in the separation of the interest bearers from surrounding inorganic substances, or, in order to avoid the word inorganic, from substances that do not amount to “competing individuals.”²