Otium or Noble Indolence
Otium, or noble indolence, the contemplative life, the will to go at the pace of a slow walk, or not walking at all.
A lot has happened in Paris since I last wrote. My immediate life has not changed at all. The slow daily rhythm that I have adopted here continue and the general order of my days are not disturbed. There are, however, some noticeable changes. The presence of soldiers patrolling the streets is much more evident and bad luck had it that there was a "security incident" that closed off the Louvre when I tried to visit two days ago. The underpinnings of life here, however, have shifted; there is a certain amount of anxiety, of course, but also of wariness. This is certainly not limited to Paris, nor to France. But if Parisians feel anxious about hanging out in their parks and cafés, then there is an issue that is much more problematic.
One of these problems lies in the loss of the will to be indolent, complacent, and in the loss of the willingness to simply BE. It is simple really. In New York, for example, success is defined by notoriety, cash flow, that very strange sort of celebrity that "draws" the superficial and wandering attention of others within a network of "interested persons." While the very same criteria of success is very present everywhere else in the world, especially here in Paris, there are "sous-bois" of indolence that still exist here, where one can decide to disconnect, to not engage, and to simply live as one feels comfortable. Of course, this is not the life that a 20 year-old chooses, youth with all its need to be expansive and with all its naive bravado and energy require the world stage for the mise-en-scène of its oedipal complex. But it definitely is one that someone who is no longer 20 can willingly aspire to. Because culture is not an ignored entity in France, there is no condemnation, at least not yet, of "non-productive, good for nothing artists" as is often the case elsewhere. The uselessness that is the definition of Art (as defined, and beautifully so, by Hannah Arendt), is in essence this otium, this noble indolence, that is perhaps the only true ingredient of Art. I will quote an essay from Linda Zerelli's essay '"We Feel Our Freedom": Imagination and Judgement in the Thought of Hannah Arendt':
A lot has happened in Paris since I last wrote. My immediate life has not changed at all. The slow daily rhythm that I have adopted here continue and the general order of my days are not disturbed. There are, however, some noticeable changes. The presence of soldiers patrolling the streets is much more evident and bad luck had it that there was a "security incident" that closed off the Louvre when I tried to visit two days ago. The underpinnings of life here, however, have shifted; there is a certain amount of anxiety, of course, but also of wariness. This is certainly not limited to Paris, nor to France. But if Parisians feel anxious about hanging out in their parks and cafés, then there is an issue that is much more problematic.
One of these problems lies in the loss of the will to be indolent, complacent, and in the loss of the willingness to simply BE. It is simple really. In New York, for example, success is defined by notoriety, cash flow, that very strange sort of celebrity that "draws" the superficial and wandering attention of others within a network of "interested persons." While the very same criteria of success is very present everywhere else in the world, especially here in Paris, there are "sous-bois" of indolence that still exist here, where one can decide to disconnect, to not engage, and to simply live as one feels comfortable. Of course, this is not the life that a 20 year-old chooses, youth with all its need to be expansive and with all its naive bravado and energy require the world stage for the mise-en-scène of its oedipal complex. But it definitely is one that someone who is no longer 20 can willingly aspire to. Because culture is not an ignored entity in France, there is no condemnation, at least not yet, of "non-productive, good for nothing artists" as is often the case elsewhere. The uselessness that is the definition of Art (as defined, and beautifully so, by Hannah Arendt), is in essence this otium, this noble indolence, that is perhaps the only true ingredient of Art. I will quote an essay from Linda Zerelli's essay '"We Feel Our Freedom": Imagination and Judgement in the Thought of Hannah Arendt':
The "inability to think and judge a thing apart from its function or utility," writes Arendt, indicates a "utilitarian mentality" and "philistinism." She continues, "And the Greeks rightly suspected that this philistinism threatens [. . .] the political realm [. . .] because it will judge actions by the same standards of utility which are valid for fabrication, demand that action obtain a pre-determined end and that it be permitted to seize on all means likely to further this end." (CC. p. 216) For Arendt, who held means-ends thinking to be a denial of the freedom exhibited in action and speech, the introduction of interests, be they private or general, introduces instrumentalist attitude.With the changes that have taken place lately in an anxious land with wary minds, there is perhaps going to be less willingness to tolerate non-adherence and non-conformity. And that is the issue perhaps that looks back at the Europe of the 1930's and 40's (and not limited to just Nazi Germany as one must remember that the collaboration government in France was very much representative of perhaps the majority of the country at the time). The government here wants to have the ability to destitute a French national of his/her citizenship in specific circumstances. Casting a wider net, can one not postulate that a further step could very well be one where other definitions of "degeneracy" will be used to deprive citizens of their rights? It all sounds much too familiar and it is where things are heading as "the majority" prefer this as a remedy to their anxiety and weariness.
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