The only true creation
On original ideas
Whatever might be said otherwise, philosophy remains essentially a solitary affair. The thinker thinks, and he does so by himself. And the more he is able to think by himself, the more true philosophy shines forth. The more the philosopher repeats the opinions of others, the more he is a mere man. The more he thinks by way of his own reason, the more he becomes a philosopher.
Whenever thought is born in the thinker, philosophy is born. But thought is seldom born in the thinker. More often, thought is born elsewhere —in society, in one’s environment— from whence an idea comes passing through the thinker’s mind, leaving him with the illusion that he came up with it himself.
There is nothing more frightening to man, Dostoevsky says, than to live an entire life without ever having an idea of one’s own. To live a life repeating others, nothing scares man more. And nothing is harder and more mysterious, than to give birth to an idea by oneself.
Responding to a critic of his philosophy, Descartes compares himself to someone who gets his knowledge directly at the source, while most other people are like animals, drinking from the creek downstream. And where does knowledge begin? In thought, or more specifically, when thought is able to think by itself. But mostly, thought does not think by itself, does not produce its own contents, but is given its contents from elsewhere —some event forces one to think, or the contents of thought are merely placed in one’s mind by someone else.
In the realm of knowledge, there are those who hunt —risking life and sanity for truth. And there are those who graze, passively absorbing what their environment brings them naturally. In thought, as everywhere else, one can be a consumer, or a creator.
There is a natural illusion, to think that our thoughts are our own. But there is also an even worse illusion —to think that we can never think by ourselves, by principle. Yet one must believe, that one can think for oneself. One must not listen to those, grazing on opinions, who tell you that in fact you are a slave just the same. It might truly be an illusion, to think that you can think by yourself. But you must believe in this illusion, to have a chance at escaping the Typhonian cloud of opinion —an illusion that much worse. One must believe in this illusion of independent thought, to have a chance at a truthful life.
There is this belief, that an original idea, born out of oneself, is always new. It is said that a new idea, is something that has never been seen before. It is said that an original thought, is ‘different’ from what came before. A chimera of a belief, source of all the worst aberrations of human creation. But the difference between original and common, between new and old, is perhaps not one made by time, but rather by principle; where the new is always new, and the old has always been old.
The most original ideas, are those ideas that grasp the origin of ideas. The most original ideas, are the most originary.
Let us take Descartes’ discovery of Cogito. Can one find anywhere a more Ancient truth? ‘I think, I am’. Can one come up with something more self-evident? Something more boring, even? And Descartes affirms it himself, saying that his philosophy is “the most ancient of all.” But why? Because he thought it by himself. It was most Ancient, for when all is said and done, one cannot doubt that one thinks, and that one is. Take all away, but you cannot take this from me —I think, I am. Whatever the new might bring, and whatever the old might have been, this remains —that I think, that I am.
Descartes’ discovery was most Ancient, for he found what remains and what always was, what is essential to thought, and not subject to change or confusion. When thought is not blinded by opinions floating around, distracted by certain events, but is left to think only itself, what then remains? Thought —the most Ancient activity of all. And this was then, Descartes’ original idea. For nothing whatsoever can be thought, without having its origin in thought, in being, —the most Ancient certainty: ‘I think, I am.’
Original creations are seldom ‘different’. More often, they speak of what is self-same at all times. Schopenhauer, showing himself a good Platonist, says that the artist and the philosopher should express Ideas. And of what do we have Ideas? Beauty, Justice, Wisdom, and Courage, as examples. To some the most boring and antiquated concepts. Yet the greatest art, and the greatest philosophy, expresses just these things. Nothing new to be seen. Nothing ‘original’ to be found, only the originary to shine forth anew.
What is most valuable? What is new and different, or what is so Ancient that it never fails to mesmerize, however much times it has been seen? Yet still, who among us can be said to have seen true Beauty?
It is self-thinking thought that produces Ideas, thought so collected within itself, that it no longer expresses what is foreign to it —opinions floating around, or the perils of today— but expresses only what naturally flows out of its own activity. And when this happens, and only when this happens, can a thought of one’s own be born. When thought stops grazing on opinions, and starts thinking for itself. When thought stops being activated by something different from itself, and starts activating. When thought stops consuming, and starts creating.
Usually, we do not think, we are being thought. We do not have ideas, we are being had by ideas. Dostoevsky, again. But to believe, that it is possible, in principle, and also in fact, to think by oneself. This is perhaps the most radical thing to believe, at all times. This is the noble goal of philosophy, that Spinoza strove for in having us become less of a ‘thing’, influenced by other things in an inescapable chain of causes and effects, and more of an essence, acting out his own telos in the world. And this is what Plato expressed, when he said that the lover of wisdom, having gained sight of “the great sea of beauty”, now “gives birth to many gloriously beautiful ideas and theories, in unstinting love of wisdom.”(Plato, Symposium, 210d) Here, one no longer repeats opinions —one births ideas. Here, one no longer imitates, one creates.
These are then the two moments of philosophy. A renouncement, a critique, of the opinions one is given. And when, in the silence found, thought can finally think itself, the fruits of self-thinking thought can be born. It is like the artist; first imitating nature and producing countless portraits, and when one has refined one’s skill, and grasped the essence of what it is that makes up beauty —only then can one produce something ‘original.’ From the things to the origin of things. And when one has found the origin, back to the things. But this time, not as an imitator, but as a creator.
It is the hardest task, to truly create an idea. Yet it is even harder to undergo the experience, of never having had an idea of one’s own. It is the hardest task, to truly think. Not to create an ‘original’ idea, something particular to us as egos living in a certain time, but to grasp something so originary, that it connects us all to ourselves.