The problem of authenticity—which we might also name as the struggle for authenticity—appears “upstream” of our current situation… but not far. For, in speaking of what is “authentic”, we most of all mean persons. Today, by contrast, our skepticism concerns the authenticity of events and of their presentation (especially events remote in time and space from ourselves). But this skepticism of events follows, primarily, because we have lost our faith in persons. Lacking trust in the authenticity of the human being, we lose confidence that he relates to us the truth absent a bias or ulterior motive.
But what is the “Authentic”?
Putting our fingers precisely on the meaning of this adjective, “authentic”, proves somewhat difficult. We can, of course, look it up in a dictionary. But this just sends us down other paths: for what does it mean to be genuine? To be “real”? (“The word ‘reality’ is also a word”, wrote Niels Bohr, “a word which we must learn to use correctly.”) We say that the authentic person shows his “true nature or beliefs”. But what does that really mean? The Swiss physician Paul Tournier, famous for his efforts to treat the whole person and not just the physical, relates a revealing anecdote:
[The visitor] explains to me that he has just come from the house of a friend who represents his country in the United Nations Organization. A brilliant reception was in progress there, and the house was thronging with all the important international figures of Geneva. He gives me a vivid and penetrating description of it. Behind the bowing and the smiles, behind the friendly words, the witticisms, the empty phrases, and even in their silences and their aloofness, all were playing a cautious game. Each sought to dissemble his own real thoughts, his secret intentions, while trying to unmask those of his neighbour.
Paul Tournier 1955: The Meaning of Persons, 28-29.
It was not only a matter of diplomatic intrigues; there were sentimental manoeuvres going on too, and those subtle tactics in which we all constantly indulge in order to consolidate our prestige and give to others the desired impression. These various purposes combined and interacted as each pursued his own ends.
Everything was studied—dress, jewels, handshake, the subject of conversation. The servants played their part with a proper impassibility. The hosts displayed all the attentiveness demanded by the occasion. All these people meet together frequently in various fashionable drawing-rooms, and the game goes on and develops. Among them all exists a tacit understanding which they scrupulously observe.
‘What a farce!’ exclaims my visitor. But he is able to denounce it so lucidly because he himself is conscious of the fact that he is constantly acting a part, as much to himself as to others; he suffers from it to the point of obsession.
Can we not all sympathize with Tournier’s visitor? Have we not all felt ourselves playing in such a farce, at some one point or another in our lives? Perhaps we have found ourselves in similar cocktail parties. Perhaps we have seen the empty smiles of coworkers, heard the vacuous promises of superiors. We may even—God help us—work in marketing.
We may also feel the fakeness of our politicians, our celebrities, our pundits: so many saying one thing, but doing another. The digital world compounds the inauthenticity of our communications. If our interlocutors are not hidden behind pseudonyms and inhuman pictures, they nevertheless present favorably (one might even say deceptively) curated images of themselves—as we might ourselves.
Recovering Authenticity
That we desire more rather than less authenticity in our lives seems an almost unquestionable truth. (Though some, doubtless, are content to be deceived in this or that particular, such deceit seems accepted only so long as it can be obscured.) Lacking faith in its presence or retrieval, however, we see instead today increasing calls or demands for “transparency”.
But is transparency really an alternative to the authentic? Do we satisfy that desire by “clear and complete” presentation of “the facts”?
How did we lose faith in the authenticity of persons in the first place? Did we ever even have it? Was it ill-placed, if we did?
Does our digital environment make authenticity harder to come by? Many people say they find it easier to be their “authentic selves” through digitally-made connections. But is this really true?
Although it is a bit dated, Charles Taylor’s Ethics of Authenticity prompts a number of interesting questions about why we find the idea so desirable.
Please join our Philosophical Happy Hour this Wednesday (23 October 2024 from 5:45–7:15pm—or later—Eastern Time; latecomers welcome!) to think about the authentic. Links below!
philosophical happy hour
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Come join us for drinks (adult or otherwise) and a meaningful conversation. Open to the public! Held every Wednesday from 5:45–7:15pm ET.
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