
Final Illustration from Confessions of a Young Philosopher by Abigail L. Rosenthal
Normally, by the time I sit down to write this column, the topic has clearly presented itself. Today is no different, except that what wants to be written about here and now are two topics – and they are extreme opposites!
The first is a novel about life in today’s France, Submission by Michel Houellebecq. The second is a recent talk by an educated, intelligent young American woman named Dr. Chava Green, whose unlikely title was “The Hasidic Feminist.”
I’ll go to the French topic first. Judging from the raves from top reviewers that cover the opening pages of my translation, everyone-who-is-anyone thinks well of this book! It looks to be a novel at the cutting edge of the Zeitgeist, the spirit of our times.
So what story does it tell? Its fictional hero is a literature professor at a Left Bank branch of the University of Paris – almost the cutting edge. And he finds nothing to live for. In his life there is no romance, and even the occasional sex is starting to pall. His specialty, Huysmans, was himself a nineteenth-century decadent. So here we have a case of one maturing French decadent losing his fascination with a predecessor from an earlier time.
Aside from one wake-up night of pleasure with a Jewish ex-girlfriend, nothing – and aside from good French dinners – nothing now awakens our hero’s flagging, sagging appetites. His love-interest is leaving. She accompanies her family as it departs for Israel (along with a record number of French Jews, as anti-semitic violence is now going unpunished in France).
Meanwhile, it’s time for France to hold national elections. And, as the electoral bargaining between the parties plays out, an Islamist party gets control of the government. What follows are swift changes in national style and substance. Our hero’s professorship is abolished. Women are even worse off. They cannot continue as students, professors or administrators. And finally he finds himself converting to Islam in order to secure a coveted job in the newly-Islamicized French bureaucracy.
And the worst is, it’s so credibly written that the reader can’t easily feel sure it’s fiction! This is, after all, the way empires and civilizations actually do fall. In the lines of W. B. Yeats,
The best lack all conviction
And the worst are full of passionate intensity.
So much for Submission, the dismaying novel. I skipped parts of it, but you get the idea.
Turning now to the talk I attended last Friday at the local Chabad – with the intriguing title “The Hasidic Feminist” – how did that go? Since Hasidism is one species of ultra-orthodoxy, and one thinks of orthodox Jewish women as subordinate to their men, the title alone was sufficiently paradoxical to draw my interest.
Sure enough, the speaker, Chava Green, stood at the podium innocent of makeup, in a dress only slightly open at the neck, long-sleeved and convex in the middle from her pregnancy. I couldn’t tell if that was her own hair or a wig. (Forgive me. Women notice these things.)
Her thesis was that women – and women’s work – provide the foundation that makes possible the achievements of men in the world. When the messiah arrives (that is, when the true nature of things is revealed) the contributions of women will gain the universal recognition that is fairly theirs. But, publicly recognized or not, women’s contribution to the well-being and good order of the world remains vital and irreplaceable.
Since the speaker was careful to qualify these claims by acknowledging all the nuances and degrees of difference between her abstract prototypes and actual women and men, her claims did not feel coercive. More like unfashionably thought-provoking. Also, her remarks about ideal men/women relations were further qualified by her own conversion story.
Although counting as Jewish because she has a Jewish mother, she was raised in a secular family. As a young woman, she experienced a crisis of meaning and – looking for an answer – she tried one system of belief and practice after another. Till she found herself unexpectedly comfortable with orthodox practices at campus Chabad centers. Experimentally, she decided to live under their life-system for one year, just to find out whether or not this could be a good fit for her.
The emotional, intellectual and romantic fulfillment to which that decision led her was all quite concrete – not merely a case of finding a winning hypothesis. A religion that converted one’s time so that the necessary chores of the day become oriented toward the Transcendent within the day’s very groundedness – such a religion would allow meaning and purpose to merge with a person’s real life in her real time.
Chava Green was tough. And at the same time, clearly living from her own center – not living at second hand. So the contrast with the protagonist of Submission could not have been more stark.
*. *. *
The decadence portrayed in that novel lies in the protagonist’s inability to entertain any but the crudest desires – which are not necessarily his own but could be anybody’s – whether human or animal – whether of man or beast.
If desires are tied to beliefs about what is feasible in the real world, he seems to be a man without beliefs of his own. It follows that he cannot evaluate his own everyday doings by comparing them with his beliefs about anything – whether personal memories, previous hopes, disillusionments, or adaptive revisions. The question of whether such beliefs as he does hold are true simply does not and cannot arise. And this means that any desires he might hold are similarly becalmed – at standstill.
As a result, he’s presently unable to do what Chava Green has done, which is look for a life system or belief system that would be a good fit. To be motivated for a comparable investigation, our anti-hero would first need to find the desires that are actually his own. His search might have to proceed by trial and error. Even if he set forth on such a project, it would be unlikely to be resolved as definitively as Chava Green’s was. He would need to do some digging – some protracted private archaeology – to recover the person beneath the personae.
But isn’t all that too much to ask? Not really, though it might take a while to shrug off the fashionable despairs, layer by layer, and get around –
to the basics.
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