Repetition and Overcoming Violence with the Compassion of Nothingness

I have to open this paper by explaining its title. It was not my wording, but that of David Goicoechea (conference organizer and Kierkegaard scholar), although I certainly accepted and agreed to it. However, while he and I both know what we meant by it, I cannot expect my audience to have that insight, so I must explain it. I knew that the theme of this conference was complex. It had to do with Kierkegaard, as well as both Wendy Hamblet’s books on violence¹ and Leo Stan’s book Either Nothingness or Love.²

Repetition is an idea Kierkegaard explored,³ exposing its paradoxical nature in a clearly postmodern way. This was the topic I felt I could deal with competently and sympathetically. Hence the first word of the title. However, the additional foci of the conference that I was expected to address were the overcoming of violence—Wendy’s theme—and Leo’s analysis and exposition of Kierkegaard’s much wider reflections than the one I chose, dealt with in his book.

Thus I came to the conclusion that I should write three short papers for my presentation, not necessarily linked, but each contributing to our explorations: repetition, my original intent; overcoming violence, dealing with Wendy’s work; and nothingness and love, a critique of Leo as well as Kierkegaard.

Repetition is a common notion in non-technical language. It is doing something over again, not only once, but often frequently, doing the same thing over and over again. The emphasis in the usual use is on “the same.” Kierkegaard, however, shows that doing something over again is never really the same. The second time is different from the first and may be radically so. My own confirmatory experience has to do with my two visits to Venice, the famous Italian city with the canals and gondolas, often deemed one of the most beautiful cities in the world. My first visit was in the summer, on a sweltering day. I took a ride on the canals but found the water foul-smelling, the body of a dead cat floating near our vessel. The stench and the heat interfered with my enjoyment of the city, and I came away with the notion that Venice is not really up to its reputation. Twenty years later came the opportunity to revisit the city, this time with my wife, Elizabeth. Prior to arriving I warned her that she might be disappointed. However, just by chance, the day we visited Venice was a historic regatta day; the gondoliers were costumed in mediaeval elegance, crowds lined the canal edges, the villas and palaces were festive with drapes and hangings, and a breeze kept the air pure and fresh. Everything was a pure delight. So the repeat visit was the very antithesis of the first one. This is an illustration of Kierkegaard’s claim that there is difference in repetition; its usual everyday meaning is simply a convention that must be regarded with caution.⁴ We should be aware of the difference as well as the sameness in a repeated act. The togetherness of opposites—same and different—shows that opposites are mixed rather than on separate ends of a logical dichotomy. This is a typical postmodern exposition of the falseness of the either/or kind of bipolar rationality of modern thought. So much for “repetition.”

On to Wendy’s theme of violence. Overcoming violence is often thought of as a program that we should be involved with if we are ethically motivated. Violence is damaging—not only to the victim of violence, but also to the perpetrator. Violence usually evokes anger and the desire for revenge. It spawns violence, be it at the personal level or the social one. Wars do not solve problems; they cause damage and suffering and usually end up with a later eruption of similarly damaging and destructive warfare. Oppression—a form of violence—results in uprisings and social turmoil, as is the case in many Middle Eastern regimes at this time. However, although I dislike violence as much as anyone else, I...