[lit-ideas] "what we want the knowledge for" as a key to one's epistemology - and metaphysics

  • From: cblists@xxxxxxxx
  • To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
  • Date: Tue, 26 Oct 2010 12:03:23 +0200

By a circuitous route (involving, among other things, the acquisition of the Studienausgabe of Freud's works for a price too low to not take advantage of) I've been brought to (re)reading W. H. Auden, and think the last two verses of "After Reading a Child's Guide to Modern Physics" not unrelated to recent discussion of issues in the philosophy of mathematics (particularly the lines "If I knew more clearly what / We wanted the knowledge for"):


This passion of our kind
For the process of finding out
Is a fact one can hardly doubt,
But I would rejoice in it more
If I knew more clearly what
We wanted the knowledge for,
Felt certain still that the mind
Is free to know or not.

It has chosen once, it seems,
And whether our concern
For magnitude's extremes
Really become a creature
Who comes in a median size,
Or politicizing Nature
Be altogether wise,
Is something we shall learn.


The complete poem can be found at:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/arts/poetry/outloud/auden.shtml

Chris Bruce,
Kiel, Germany

P.S.: My 'Auseinandersetzung' with Auden's "In Memory of Sigmund Freud" is too incomplete for me to offer comment here - but those last few verses give such insight (trust a poet to see - and express - so clearly) into what Freud was about, and need no commentary:

... he would have us remember most of all
to be enthusiastic over the night,
     not only for the sense of wonder
   it alone has to offer, but also

because it needs our love. With large sad eyes
its delectable creatures look up and beg
     us dumbly to ask them to follow:
   they are exiles who long for the future

that lives in our power, they too would rejoice
if allowed to serve enlightenment like him,
     even to bear our cry of 'Judas',
   as he did and all must bear who serve it.

One rational voice is dumb. Over his grave
the household of Impulse mourns one dearly loved:
     sad is Eros, builder of cities,
   and weeping anarchic Aphrodite.

-cb
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