“If I go further I always run up against the paradox, the divine and the demonic; for silence is both of these. It is the demon’s lure, and the more silent one keeps the more terrible the demon becomes; but silence is also divinity’s communion with the individual.” -Johannes de silentio (Kierkegaard, Fear and Trembling, 114)
I begin with the words of ‘Johannes de silentio’ above, for I believe he speaks directly to the fundamental problem with which this essay is concerned, and it is my hope that its relevance will become clearer as we proceed. This essay offers an interpretation of Aesthete A’s claim that boredom is the root of all evil, and of how this relates to his other claim that idleness is the only true good. Note that Aesthete A is a pseudonym Kierkegaard uses in the first part of Either/Or. In order to come to a clearer and more thorough understanding of what I believe is ultimately Kierkegaard’s intended meaning, we will not confine ourselves to A’s words and ideas alone, but will relate them to similar ideas found elsewhere, including some of Kierkegaard’s other authorships, as well as to those of others who’ve written on the subject (primarily Frankfurt and Nietzsche). We will begin with descriptions of boredom and idleness, and develop an account of how intimately these two concepts relate to each other. I’ll suggest that the concept of idleness has both ethical and religious significance for Kierkegaard, and thus it is boredom’s fundamental opposition to idleness that provides the basis of its being the root of all evil. Let us note here that we are essentially faced with a psychological conflict, an either/or if you will, between boredom and idleness, motion vs. stillness, action vs. inaction, and noise vs. silence.
A begins his discussion in good humor by proceeding from a basic principle that “all men are bores,” and observes that boredom itself is “in the highest degree repellent […] not merely repellent but infinitely forbidding” (A, 281). Thus boredom is a negative principle, according to A, and negative principles “are in the last analysis the principles of all motion” (A, 281)—note that here we already encounter boredom’s essential opposition to idleness, to that which A claims is the only true good. Moreover, boredom is the “demonic side of pantheism,” according to A, insofar as pantheism is characterized by fullness, and boredom precisely the opposite [emptiness] (A, 286-7). So in light of the above, let us identify some essential features of boredom in relation to idleness, and suppose that boredom is roughly characterized by 1) a disagreeable sense of calm/stillness; 2) a conscious lack of amusement, interest, or meaning in one’s present experience and circumstances [a sense of emptiness]; 3) a restless aversion [repellency] to this consciousness of lack, which becomes an anxious stimulus for action, action for the sake of flight and diversion from the emptiness; 4) an ‘infinite forbidding’ of idleness, that is, of inaction, of being still, of doing nothing and facing the emptiness. Boredom is essentially an instinctual flight from the emptiness of idleness. Let us note here that there is a sense in which we may identify idleness with ‘the present’—for to be idle is, in an important sense, to remain still in present experience, perhaps in spite of boredom. Boredom’s inclination, on the other hand, is to react, push forward, and flee the present.
What is the psychological meaning of idleness, and why does A claim it is the only true good? Beginning with the former, idleness is rest, repose, stillness, peace, quietude—in short, everything boredom ‘forbids’ and finds intolerable, for it seeks always to be on the move. Yet, the very thing boredom forbids is also that which A claims is the only true good (that is, idleness)—indeed, according to A, “everything is to be acquired in stillness, and in the silence of the divine” (A, 31). What does he mean by ‘everything’, and what by stillness and silence? I do not presume to know for sure, but we can clearly apprehend its opposition to boredom, or more precisely, boredom’s opposition to stillness and silence. Moreover, it has been said that the point of practicing prayer and meditation is a still mind, and that its pinnacle is ultimately silence—and yet, almost unfailingly, is it not precisely boredom that disrupts even the deepest meditative stillness? Indeed, it would seem so, for according to A, boredom is essentially that “restless activity which excludes a man from the world of spirit and sets him in a class with the brutes, whose instincts impel them always to be on the move” (A, 285). We can also be sure that A is by no means the first to praise the virtues of stillness, neither in the east nor the west. In the east, examples are numerous, from Gautama Buddha to Lao Tzu, from the Bhagavad Gita to the Upanishads—take the latter, for example: “when the five senses are stilled, when the mind is stilled, when the intellect is stilled—that is called the highest state by the wise” (Katha Upanishad). In the west, Meister Eckhart claims that where the divine Word is to be heard, “there must be stillness and silence” (Eckhart, Sermon 24). Nietzsche is another who repeatedly praises the virtues of stillness and silence, particularly in association with lofty states of the soul. While one may question the value or even the very possibility of stillness and silence, it is clear that A isn’t alone in his praise of this calm and quiet state of the psyche—one may even get the intimation of something timeless and universal in their praise. That having been said, I ultimately believe idleness in this sense may be closely related to Kierkegaard’s ideal of love, but to that we will return. Now let us continue to explore the meaning and significance of boredom.
Boredom repels, A tells us—but repels from what? It repels the self in whom it is active from its own present experience and circumstances, which it finds empty and boring, and this repellency is an anxious impetus forward (toward action) in search of amusement and diversion. Boredom’s repellency, it seems, is psychologically driven by a ‘restless activity’ (285) that is in a sense the antithesis of calm [idleness], and perhaps especially quietude [silence]—one need only try to silence oneself inwardly to see how quickly boredom surfaces in the form of psychic noise and restlessness. This restless activity works to stir up motion and noise within itself, such that it always encourages restiveness and discontent with present circumstances—in other words, it fuels the sense of boredom, indeed it is boredom, which in turn encourages movement and action. Boredom itself, if it had a wish, would wish above all to keep the whole psycho-physiological machine of the self in constant motion, so to flee the present and avoid idleness altogether—for again, idleness is that which boredom repels and forbids. Boredom seeks constant movement and novelty, which is why all who are bored ‘cry out for change’ (A, 287)—which is fine and well, for change is interesting, necessary, and keeps things fresh—and A completely sympathizes with their cries for change, “but it is necessary to act in accordance with some settled principle (e.g. the rotation method)” (A, 287). Boredom itself, however, is completely indifferent to principles or prudence, for it seeks only movement and diversion from the present (that is, flight from idleness); and to act out of boredom is to act not from reason, principle, or virtue, but anxiously, reactively, on whim or impulse, impelled more or less arbitrarily forward by boredom’s repellency of the present.
On account of its repellency of the present, and its ‘infinite forbidding’ of idleness, boredom’s capacity to initiate action is quite extraordinary indeed. We know that a devil incapable of motivating is essentially impotent, and yet we also observe that few things give rise to movement and action the way the “demonic spirit of boredom” does—and how curious it is that “boredom, in itself so staid and stolid, should have such power to set in motion” (A, 281). Boredom proves itself time and again an almost irresistible impetus, truly remarkable in its capacity to spur action of all kinds—even foolish, impulsive, senseless action. Doing or willing something ‘for the hell of it’ is something of a hallmark of boredom, for the sense of lacking anything better to do (or will)—but above all, because doing nothing (idleness) is precisely what is forbidden by boredom. The more profound the boredom, the more intolerable the present; and an individual at boredom’s extreme would sooner shoot himself ‘out of curiosity’ (A, 287) than remain idle, even if remaining idle were by far the most prudent and reasonable thing one could do in the given circumstances. But again, boredom wants nothing at all to do with reason, principle, or prudence; it seeks only to oppose idleness by means of movement and doing something, anything other than nothing. This presents us with a question: why does boredom so vehemently resist idleness?
Frankfurt offers us some interesting observations in this regard. He seems to have a valid concern in observing that a substantial increase in boredom “threatens the extinction of the active self,” and that at its extreme boredom is “tantamount to the cessation of psychic activity and experience altogether” (Frankfurt, 89). In other words, as boredom intensifies, so too does the threat of losing one’s active sense of self (ego)—that is, the self’s conception of itself, its sense of I, me, mine. There certainly seems to be some truth to this, as the sense of boredom does tend to increase with the cessation of psychic activity (or idleness). However, Frankfurt seems to suggest that idleness is a response to boredom, that psychic activity slows and eventually ceases in response to boredom—this seems to be the reverse of A’s account, which suggests that boredom is a response to idleness. According to A’s account, I become increasingly anxious and restless (or bored) in response to idleness, rather than increasingly idle in response to boredom, as Frankfurt suggests. Boredom forbids and repels idleness, according to A, and thus boredom is what keeps idleness at a distance. In other words, boredom is the reason why ‘the cessation of psychic activity’ doesn’t actually occur—for boredom’s restlessness keeps the psyche in constant motion. So it seems to me that A’s category of idleness is actually primary here, rather than boredom, insofar as boredom increases in response to idleness, rather than the other way around. Contrary to the popular expression that one is ‘bored to death,’ I rather think that saying one is ‘idled to death’ rings a bit closer to the truth. That having been said, it would appear that boredom’s flight from idleness is intimately connected to the ego’s elemental struggle for psychic survival—that is, boredom is “connected to ‘self-preservation’ […] in the sense of sustaining […] the persistence of the self” (Frankfurt, 89). At bottom, boredom is the self’s instinctual response to the perceived threat of nihilation posed by the emptiness of idleness; and thus the person who is bored isn’t fleeing boredom so much as they are fleeing idleness (for boredom is a response to idleness). And yet, idleness itself seems so utterly empty and harmless, so how on earth could it pose such an existential threat to the ego? Again, I suspect it has to do with the sense of emptiness felt in idleness, from which boredom (or the person experiencing boredom) instinctively flees.
In the very depths of idleness—that is, in stillness and silence—it seems that the ego loses its temporal footing, because stillness and silence imply the ‘cessation of psychic activity’ that Frankfurt attributes to boredom. Psychologically speaking, when the mind is absolutely still and silent, there can be no psychic sense of time, for one’s sense of time exists only insofar as there is memory and anticipation; but a mind that is active in memory and anticipation is clearly not a still and silent mind, for memory and anticipation imply psychic movement and noise. In absolute stillness and silence, however, memory and anticipation are entirely absent, and thus one’s sense of time itself dissolves in an undifferentiated awareness of the present (the timeless present, as they say). This dissolution of time, in turn, implies the dissolution of the ego (that is, the self’s conception of itself), which is ultimately grounded in its own sense of time—in other words, the temporal extension of the ego (that is, its sense of continuity in past and future) is utterly dependent on an active mind, that is, on its memory and anticipation. Thus, in the end, it seems to me that it isn’t actually boredom that threatens the ego, as Frankfurt suggests, but rather that which boredom resists, repels, forbids, and flees—that is, idleness, stillness, and silence. To put it another way, boredom is the ego’s instinctual response to and struggle against the existential threat posed to it by stillness and silence. But yet, if the very thing boredom flees and repels is in fact the only true good, then we are left with another question: can there be idleness without (or in spite of) boredom?
Given boredom’s tendency to increase with idleness, the possibility of idleness without boredom would seem to presuppose that one has (or can have) the requisite courage and willpower to face the dizzying emptiness, and resist boredom’s extraordinary impulses—and this may be no easy task, but let us suppose it is possible. In addition to the courage required to face the emptiness, it seems the very essence of strength and willpower in this sense would be “precisely not to ‘will’, the ability to defer decision”—that is, the ability to resist boredom’s impulses and remain idle—and moreover, according to Nietzsche, “all unspirituality, all vulgarity, is due to the incapacity to resist a stimulus – one has to react, one obeys every impulse” (TI, What the Germans Lack, 6). But this raises another interesting question with respect to what happens if one succeeds in remaining idle in spite of boredom’s impulses—what happens if one chooses ‘not to will’ and lets boredom run its course, rather than react to it? Again, Nietzsche’s position is an interesting one—“for thinkers and all sensitive spirits, boredom is that disagreeable ‘windless calm’ of the soul that precedes a happy voyage and cheerful winds. They have to bear it and must wait for its effect on them. Precisely this is what lesser natures cannot achieve by any means” (The Gay Science, 42). Most of us are probably inclined to ward off boredom at any cost, rather than grin and bear it in idleness. But Nietzsche suggests that boredom is actually a precursor to a desirable state of mind, at least for ‘thinkers and sensitive spirits,’ and thus there is a sense in which boredom is actually something to be embraced rather than avoided. But eventually it does seem as though boredom (on account of idleness) threatens the “the extinction of the active self,” as Frankfurt puts it—what might such an extinction amount to?
At the utmost limit, idleness (stillness and silence) seems to threaten the dissolution of the ego, as discussed above. If there is some truth to this, it seems to me to raise a very interesting question in light of Dostoyevsky’s ideal conception of love, which he expresses straightforwardly in one of his notebooks, and which upon close examination appears to be very much akin to Kierkegaard’s:
If precisely this ‘I’ is what stands in the way of my genuine love of another (that is, to love another as myself), as Dostoyevsky says; and if Frankfurt is right in that this active ‘I’ is precisely what is threatened more and more as my inner world grows quieter and quieter—then perhaps my genuine love of another can emerge only out of that profound stillness and silence, where ‘I’, me, and mine are no more? Perhaps love itself, in the ideal sense, can only be known in the silence of self-renunciation, as I suspect is ultimately A’s point in saying that idleness is the only true good, and that “everything [love] is to be acquired in stillness, and in the silence of the divine” (A, 31)—that is, the ideal of love is to be acquired precisely where there is no mine. Kierkegaard himself, in Works of Love, claims that “only spiritual love has the courage to will to have no mine at all, the courage to abolish completely the distinction between mine and yours, and therefore wins God—by losing its soul” (Works of Love, 251). Returning to the quote with which we began, perhaps now its meaning and significance is more apparent—for “the more silent (idle) one keeps, the more terrible the demon (boredom) becomes; but silence (self-renunciation) is also divinity’s communion with the individual” (Fear and Trembling, 114)—provided one has the courage and willpower to face the emptiness, resist the demon’s terror (that is, boredom), and remain still and silent in spite of oneself, in resignation of oneself. Boredom, then, is the root of all evil insofar as it opposes the only true good.
Works Cited
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor, Richard Pevear, and Larissa Volokhonsky. Notes from Underground. New York: Vintage, 1994. Print.
Frankfurt, Harry, Necessity, Volition, and Love
Cambridge, U.K. 1999
Eckhart, Meister, and Oliver Davies. Selected Writings. London: Penguin, 1998. Print.
Eknath, Easwaran, and Michael N. Nagler. The Upanishads. Tomales, CA: Nilgiri, 2007. Print.
Kierkegaard, Søren, and Howard V. Hong. Works of Love. New York: HarperPerennial, 2009. Print.
Kierkegaard, Søren. Fear and Trembling. [Lexington, KY]: [s.n.], 2012. Print.
Kierkegaard, Søren, Howard V. Hong, and Edna H. Hong. Either/Or. Princeton, NJ: Princeton UP, 1987. Print.
Nietzsche, Friedrich, and Walter Kaufmann. The Gay Science. New York: Random, 1974. Print.
Nietzsche, Friedrich Wilhelm, R. J. Hollingdale, Twilight of the Idols ; And, The Anti-Christ. London, England: Penguin, 1990. Print.