Ever since Heidegger lectured on Nietzsche, philosophers have stressed the active side of the Übermensch, the self who aggressively consumes and exploits value. Sheridan Hough, however, argues that there is a distinctly receptive and passive side to the Nietzschean self, and thus a pervasive doubleness in Nietzsche's thought that hasn't been explored before. This doubleness is the focus of Hough's attention here. Hough argues that Nietzsche's favorite way to describe the self is to use opposed pairs of metaphors. The sea (...) and the land, the pursuit of archaeology and the "granite stratum" of the self, the child and pregnancy are tropes he uses to show the self as both an active critic of culture and a creation of that culture. Noon and shadow exemplify this dual thinking. The free spirit, according to Nietzsche, is dogged by a shadow, a shadow cast by the free spirit's efforts to overcome himself. Perfect noon—emblematic of the Übermensch—is the moment of ecstatic release for the free spirit. Thus the Übermensch is not a separate "superhuman" being but rather an ecstatic moment in the experience of free spirits. Hough succeeds in showing that the doubleness motif strikes deeper into the heart of Nietzsche's thinking than has been realized. Favorite Nietzschean images, such as that of pregnancy, suddenly take on new meaning when considered in this light. Careful to avoid a reductionist view, Hough adds significantly to our understanding of Nietzsche's contribution to modern thought. (shrink)

At the end of ‘The Age of the World Picture,’ Heidegger offers a brief sentence, ‘Keiner stirbt für blosse Werte’ (No one dies for mere values.). This sentence underscores one of the central themes of Heidegger’s later essays, the nihilism that results from living in an economy of value. This way of life is lived by a certain kind of human being, one who treats a culture’s embedded habits and practices as value systems to be exploited and exhausted. A more (...) difficult problem presents itself: what is it like to be a person who has mastered this economy of value? This paper sets out to examine this question, and to propose another perspective: no one dies for mere values, but how does Heidegger’s rendition of the Übermensch manage to live? How does one live for mere values? I argue that Heidegger’s technological examples (e.g., the hydroelectric plant) have two salient features: each is ‘infectious’ and ‘exhaustible,’ features that are not consonant with the appropriative use of our habits and practices. I will focus on the condition Heidegger describes, and the person who makes this condition manifest, and conclude with a proposal for a ‘Nietzschean corrective.’. (shrink)

This book is an analysis of Kierkegaard's account of the self from a unique perspective, that of a character introduced by one of Kierkegaard's pseudonymous authors, Johannes de silentio. This character is seen once in a brief vignette in Fear and Trembling, but Hough argues that this character is a necessary lens for looking across Kierkegaard's vast authorship, both the pseudonymous works as well as the works that Kierkegaard himself signed. This character sketch, often overlooked in Kierkegaard scholarship, is crucial (...) to understanding what Kierkegaard calls the life of faith, and, therefore, the nature of a fully realized human self. (shrink)

This article characterizes the work of Native basket weaver Mabel McKay, using some of the conceptual tools of twentiethth-century phenomenologist Maurice Merleau-Ponty. Specifically, McKay's baskets have often been described as "living;" Merleau-Ponty's account of the world as "living flesh" seems to suggest a way of thinking about these baskets as more than mere artifacts. I conclude that McKay's baskets are a powerful propaedeutic: they awaken a sense of ourselves as perceivers.

This article characterizes the work of Native basket weaver Mabel McKay, using some of the conceptual tools of twentiethth-century phenomenologist Maurice Merleau-Ponty. Specifically, McKay's baskets have often been described as "living;" Merleau-Ponty's account of the world as "living flesh" seems to suggest a way of thinking about these baskets as more than mere artifacts. I conclude that McKay's baskets are a powerful propaedeutic: they awaken a sense of ourselves as perceivers.

This article argues that, rather than thinking that our ethics has to fall back on Kantian and proto-Christian claims, Sellars should have appealed to the framework of Buddhist ethics.