The Concept of Anxiety by Søren Kierkegaard (Review of Alastair Hannay's Translation)
I have read very little of Søren Kierkegaard’s writing, but I came to appreciate his work during law school when I encountered an excerpt from Either/Or:
If I were to wish for anything, I should not wish for wealth and power, but for the passionate sense of the potential, for the eye which, ever young and ardent, sees the possible. Pleasure disappoints, possibility never. And what wine is so sparkling, what so fragrant, what so intoxicating, as possibility!
The responsibility of potential has weighed on my mind in adulthood, so these short lines stuck with me over the years and led me to look for more opportunities to learn about Kierkegaard.
The Concept of Anxiety: A Simple Psychologically Orienting Deliberation on the Dogmatic Issue of Hereditary Sin unexpectedly joined my reading list as I was reading a biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Kierkegaard influenced Bonhoeffer’s thinking, so I decided to pause on the biography to read The Concept of Anxiety and Bonhoeffer’s Ethics. The connections between the two books/authors were enjoyable to explore.
For those considering a dive into The Concept of Anxiety, please note that Kierkegaard is notoriously dense. Part of this issue stems from the challenge of translation, but the concepts do not lend themselves to a casual reading. Kierkegaard also presumes his readers are familiar with Kant, Hegal, and other philosophers of the day, so readers may need to supplement their background before diving into The Concept of Anxiety. Still, the ideas in the book are significant and worth exploring.
A primary theme in his book is that anxiety—or unfocused fear—is a good thing, or at least potentially a good thing. Kierkegaard compares anxiety with the dizziness of looking down into an endless abyss. Mere looking at the chasm does not change the prospect of plummeting downward, but the realization that you could causes a strong physiological response. Similarly, anxiety is the dizziness of freedom when people realize the endless possibilities of life. Having to choose what is next prompts anxiety or dread.
This unfocused fear extends back to Adam and Eve’s original sin of eating the forbidden fruit. God’s instruction to them was, “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it you will certainly die.” Kierkegaard points out that the Adam and Eve could not have understood what death was, since it did not yet exist. But they did know that they had a choice: eat from the tree or do not eat from the tree. Once they disobeyed, death entered the earth, and the subsequent anxiety related to free choice emerged.
Here is where Kierkegaard explores why anxiety is a good thing: it creates a pathway for humans to return to God. The potential for a person to choose A or to choose B is an awareness of personal responsibility. Kierkegaard explains that “[w]hoever has learned to be anxious in the right way has learned the ultimate…” Further, anxiety forces self-examination in an inescapable way to impart the eternal implications of either reconciliation with God or conflict with God.
Reconciliation with God makes for an interesting subject when looking at the full title of Kierkegaard’s book. Today, a person would likely not expect to read about theology in a book about psychology, but those subjects were interwoven for Kierkegaard. He did not view ingested medicine as a treatment for the root issue of anxiety or other related conditions (a view that likely had a significant and long-lasting effect for the church). Instead, he theorized on why anxiety exists and evaluated how people respond. This fills much of the book.
As suggested above, there is a lot to chew on in in Kierkegaard’s writing, so bite-sized portions are the best way to proceed. The Concept of Anxiety fit together well as I explored the life of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and I recommend it for those who enjoy philosophy. Beyond my recommendation, here are my additional thoughts from the book.
As I read the introduction and Kierkegaard’s claim of Christianity, I thought of 1 Corinthians 2:11: “Who can know a man’s heart?” Many great thinkers read Kierkegaard—the Father of Existentialism—and those who are non-Christians see a fellow non-Christian. Many Christians read Kierkegaard and see a non-Christian. Yet Kierkegaard himself followed Christ’s teachings, so an analysis of who Kierkegaard was and how someone categorizes him may naturally seem unclear.
Yet any person who has wrestled with thinking well and wrestled with faith likely has a wide expanse of thoughts. I often mention Thomas Jefferson as someone I admire and have read broadly. What I find as I explore the record of his life—including his own writing—is there is indeed much to admire, but there is also much that leaves me aghast. Jefferson and other Founders had some great ideas and just as many that were paltry. No mere mortal is flawless, and the more a person commits their thoughts to paper, the more those flaws become apparent. So it strikes me with Kierkegaard.
This acknowledgement of flaws is not a critique. Writing forces exploration of ideas, and there are plenty of times I look back at my past writing and conclude, “what was I thinking?” Yet it still seems better that one should undertake the effort of thinking (and subsequently writing). The written words do not mean you are forever chained to those ideas. Instead of viewing the printed words as a chain, see them instead as a foundation upon which new ideas can build. Without this effort, a person is much more likely to be swept up with the latest trend of ideas or—worse still—whatever charismatic character stands on the popularity pedestal of the day. Forethought provides the lens to view ideas and people with a greater sense of reason and wisdom.
Throughout the book, Kierkegaard proclaims that innocence is ignorance. As such, he describes Adam’s understanding of the prohibition against eating the fruit as ignorance. He could not understand the implications of eating because he was still innocent and thus ignorant. Kierkegaard assumes that the prohibition against eating the fruit awakened desire and the possibility of freedom—freedom to obey or freedom to eat the fruit.
At the heart of this book, Kierkegaard seems to be seeking reconciliation between religion and science. He notes that sin and its origins must be determined by each individual. If a scientist were to attempt explaining it, that individual is moving into the realm of something that science cannot properly evaluate. This attempt thrusts the scientist down a path of foolishness that is unavoidable.
Kierkegaard writes that “only in the moment that salvation is actually posited is this anxiety overcome...When salvation is posited, anxiety, together with possibility is left behind.” Later, Kierkegaard notes that after salvation, anxiety then exists to serve another role, that of conviction and the goal of reconciliation. The original idea strikes me as one that has had a deleterious effect within the church. There are many people who proclaim Christ but suffer from diagnosed anxiety with notable chemical imbalances that require medicine. Medicine and science have provided a far broader understanding on how the human mind works since Kierkegaard’s time. Thus, it is interesting to think about how he might have reconciled the new information with his original ideas.
Kierkegaard commented that beauty and motherhood are feminine ideals, which is an observation that has no universal agreement today. While there is grounding for the idea in the Bible, the assertion seems to highlight the challenge of bridging religion and psychology/science. While Kierkegaard may have believed his assertion to be universal, it likely was not at the time and certainly isn’t today. His observation could prompt an interesting discussion on what individuals desire, but it works poorly as a foundational point.
Kierkegaard believed that genius without religion will never be satisfied. He believed that without Christianity, genius turns outward to achieve great success. Yet such a pursuit can never be satisfied because such success is temporal. I read this portion of the book in conjunction with an Atlantic article by Arthur C. Brooks. His article, “‘Success Addicts’ Choose Being Special Over Being Happy,” argues that success is just as much a drug as alcohol or narcotics—complete with the dopamine hit and the health risks of overuse. He goes on to suggest steps that will lead to more contentedness than the churn of success. Brooks’s thesis seems to align with Kierkegaard’s, though the Atlantic article does not touch upon religion. It would be interesting to further explore how the two authors’ concepts further fit together. One of Kierkegaard’s later points that happiness on earth is a lie suggests that there might be some hearty debate between the two.
I won’t say The Concept of Anxiety is an enjoyable read, but it is a worthwhile read. It is probably an extension of my liberal-arts education that I conclude we could all use some time on philosophy to think through what we believe and why. Thinking on such matters creates a framework to evaluate all the happenings that matter most.
Mark Twain once commented that man has no more reason than monkeys when it comes to politics and religion. It is this idea that leads polite company not to discuss either subject. But developing a sound philosophy on these matters allows people to apply reason and thus civility to both subjects that shape the ins and outs of our daily lives. The Father of Existentialism would expect a sincere exploration of one’s existence, and The Concept of Anxiety is a fine place to begin.
