Having recently returned from a six-month sabbatical leave, during which Austin

took over for me as Kowloon Branch Organiser, I have decided to change the

way I prepare the "post-game" summaries, beginning with this one. From now

on I shall write up a shorter statement of some of the "high points" of the meeting

--more of a "compendium of insights gleaned by the moderator” than an attempt at

an objective, blow-by-blow account of what happened. Contrary to the practise

adopted in my previous summaries, I shall not mention any specific names.

Moreover, I shall feel free to weave into the "summary" my own

further/subsequent thoughts on the subject.

 

I introduced the 4 February meeting on the topic: "Does it make sense to talk

about nothing?" by explaining in some detail what I believed the topic was *not*

about. There were at least two problems with my approach. The first was that

my introduction was too complex and long-winded. My verbiage droned on

for at least five minutes longer than the 15-minute limit specified in the

"Guidelines for Introducers" which I normally give to others who introduce at

the Kowloon Branch. I suppose I rationalized this at the time by telling myself

how difficult it is to understand and convey the special Heideggerian notion of

"nothing" I was trying to explain, whereby "nothing" serves as the necessary,

though self-contradictory, starting-point for all metaphysics. The second and

more genuine problem was that, once my introduction was finally over, it seemed

as if there was--quite literally--"nothing" left to talk about!

 

Throughout most of the meeting, I felt like my idea to discuss this topic was a

flop. The fifteen of us attending the meeting seemed to be wandering aimlessly

trying to figure out what, if anything, we were supposed to be talking about. I

kept insisting that there are very good reasons to talk about this topic, even

if we cannot fully grasp what they are. One person correctly pointed out that

the main question is just a species of a broader question: Does it make sense

to talk about things that are self-contradictory? Opinions seemed to be split

on this, though my view is that it can make sense, if we have good reasons to

do so.

 

Another interesting insight that came up is that talking about "everything"

shares many (if not all) of the same characteristics as talking about

"nothing". Indeed, they rise and fall together. Interestingly, concepts like

"the universe" seem far easier to accept than the strange concept of "nothing";

yet we have no more direct objective experience of the latter than we do of the

former.

 

About the time we normally would have divided into small groups, it was decided

that this would be pointless on this occasion, because the attendees felt like

they simply had "nothing" to talk about! Faced with the prospects of a meeting

ending after less than an hour, I decided to do something I had not originaly

intended to do. I gave more details on what *Heidegger's* reasons were for

believing there are good reasons to talk about nothing. I didn't intend to do

that because all too often the affect of giving "the answer" is to stifle new

ideas, which I did not want to do. But on this occasion it seemed there was

little choice.

 

Heidegger's view, in a nutshell, is that it makes sense to talk about "nothing"

because this word refers to the existential source of human anxiety, and the

latter is at the very root of what it means to be human. Situations of anxiety

are those that put us in touch with our nature and face us with the issues that

determine whether or not we will live an "authentic" life. He readily admitted

that such talk is self-contradictory, so we mustn't try too hard to make

logical sense out of it. It is the experience that counts in this case, and the

experience that forms the true foundation for metaphysics, not some rational

theory.

 

(This, by the way, is one of the few instances I know of in which a

professional philosopher uses the term "metaphysics" in a way that seems to

bridge the two very different meanings it typically has: as a branch of

theoretical philosophy on the one hand, studied for instance in university

courses in a way that is rarely very exciting or meaningful to the student, and

as a deep form of quasi-religious experience, typically defended by "new agers"

as the golden road to a meaningful life.)

 

After I "let the cat out of the bag", so to speak, our discussion continued,

though it was never as active as our discussions typically are. People still

seemed to be having to work very hard to think of something to talk about. For

awhile we talked about whether silence is a good enough way to engender this

metaphysical experience. But some of us, at least, felt that there is at least

*sometimes* a need to talk about it as well. The myth of the cyclops being

injured by "nobody" was also brought in as an indirect/symbolic expression of

the same general idea as Heidegger's. For some time we also discussed

Heidegger's Nazism. But this was definitely "something", so we eventually put

that to one side as well. Finally, we discussed whether the existence of human

beings is really necessary for this "nothing" to have any significance.

 

For me one of the most memorable points of the evening came very near the end,

when someone sitting near me leaned over and asked me: "Steve, did you get

anything out of tonight's meeting?" Without thinking, I spontaneously answered

"no". The inquirer seemed to be quite relieved by this response, since she was

obviously finding it difficult to see any point in the whole thing. However,

upon further reflection after the meeting it occurred to me that, while our

sense of intense frustration during the discussion may have made the experience

a highly unusual one, we may nevertheless have accomplished something quite

profound. For, if we are to believe Heidegger, the purpose of talking about

nothing is precisely to bring us face to face with our own inner anxiety, and

thereby to reveal our own humanness to ourselves. From this point of view, on

second thought, I judge the meeting to be a success.