Self-othering Tradition

 

Notre Dame de Paris (Fall 2006)

 

Tradition is the illusion of permanence.

 

                                      – Woody Allen -

 A common theme running through this week’s readings was that there is a core identity or internal sameness that sustains an essential traditionality within a given tradition as it externally changes.  Eric Hobsbawm speaks of tradition as an “invariance” which “imposes fixed (normally formalized) practices, such as repetition” (2) as opposed to an ‘invented tradition’ which is “characterized by reference to the past, if only by imposing repetition” (4); Nicholas Thomas of a self/other logic whereby there is ‘objectification’ and conscious and hence external creation and structuring of a tradition (214-215); and Paul Post of tradition as what is ‘two dimensional’, as both “a continual re-contextualization” and a continuance of what is named the ‘traditional tradition’ (56).  Though Post attempts to develop a more fluid, ‘vital’ notion of tradition against the “old, static” notion he deems problematic (58), he nevertheless retains an inside/outside logic akin to Hobsbawm’s old/new (6) or Thomas’ self/other logic, which demands that there remain some untouched residue or core of identity and hence of presence underlying the changes a given tradition undergoes. It should then come as no surprise when, in the last lines of his paper, Post poses such questions as ‘What is the identity of the tradition of Christian ritual/liturgical music?’ and ‘How can this identity be preserved through the constant, dynamic, contingent interaction of cult and culture?’ (59).  The enabling condition for posing such questions is the assumption that tradition has an identity, literally, a ‘sameness’, only on the surface or outside of which there is dynamism and contingency.   

I would like to question tradition here, to see whether it is identical, whether it is a self-same continuity between past and present whereby the past is transmitted in essentia to the present.  What is its genealogy, its movement? How does it carry itself?

As is often the case we can locate an opening for thought within language, through the word itself.  Perhaps we can begin to understand tradition by listening to what it has to tell us, what it wants to tell us.  The word, of Latin origin, from tradere, has a twofold sense, a fascinating playful paradox, which pours forth as a fluid movement.  In its singularity it signifies both a ‘transmitting’ and a ‘betraying’.   

 

Tradition reaches across (space and time), a sense reflected in its twofold origin, an origin which further unveils the logic of its movement. The verb tradere is a composite, deriving from the preposition trans, which literally means ‘on’ or ‘to the other side’ and the verb dare, which means ‘to give’. Thus, tradition is always already a giving on or to the other side, a handing down which is a surrendering. Its logic is a simultaneous transmittance and betrayal, it transmits by betraying.  In the very act of giving it is already on or moving towards the other side of itself, in its very giving it is self-othering. It does not give over a quidditas or whatness, an essence, but betrays such a potentiality through its fluid self-othering movement.  Thus, the ‘invention’ or ‘creation’ of tradition never takes place within a space created by an inside/outside logic; for tradition contains and internally situates its own outside, its own internal-externalization.               

 

Nietzsche’s remark in Der Antichrist that “in truth, there was only one Christian, and he died on the cross” arose from his belief that St. Paul had invented Christianity, since Jesus’ life had in fact been a radical critique and rebellion against organized religion. Paul, according to Nietzsche, had betrayed the life of Jesus by traditionalizing or creating a tradition out of his life and words.  Christianity is not a ‘real’ or ‘genuine’ tradition, because it began as a betrayal of a singular life that was not a tradition, not something static and unchanging.  The life of Jesus was not meant to give birth to a tradition and so it is in reality nothing more than a betrayal.         

 

Yet Paul’s betrayal of the ‘memory’ of Jesus and his ‘invention’ of the Christian religious tradition was not the originary betrayal of Christianity. Paul was emulating Judas. It was Judas’ betrayal of Jesus that lead to Jesus’ crucifixion and his becoming Christ.  It was through this originary betrayal that the Christian tradition began. What Nietzsche believed to be a betrayal as abandonment of the tradition embodied by Jesus was in fact a betrayal as tradition, a betrayal that was tradition in its very movement. Tradition dwells within continuity through its continual self-betrayal. The continuity of tradition lies in its self-othering movement, not in a self-same permanence. As Jesus says to Judas in The Gospel of Judas, “you will exceed all of them [i.e., the Apostles], for you will sacrifice the man that clothes me” (56). It is only through the betrayal of Jesus that Christ will arise, that a bridge between heaven and earth, humanity and the divine will be formed. Judas’ betrayal, to be later followed by that of Paul, is the origin of the being in perpetuity of the Christian tradition, of Christianity. There is no tradition without betrayal.  The gospel continues: “They approached Judas and said to him ‘What are you doing here? You are Jesus’ disciple’” (58).  They did not understand the sacrifice, the betrayal required to perpetuate the tradition, to spread the Word. Judas did, and so he simply “answered them as they wished. And he received some money and handed him over to them” (58).     

 

In reality the self-othering movement of tradition does not provide for a singular or original origin just as much as it does not provide for a singular or teleological end. Thus, we can only speak of Judas’ betrayal as marking the originary moment of the coming into being of the Christian religious tradition as it is understood in a limited sense. The tradition marked by the word ‘Christianity’ did not begin with this betrayal, but can be traced back into prehistory and perhaps atemporality. Practically speaking, there is the Old Testament, the cult of Dionysus and various other traditions which were betrayed in the coming into being of Christianity. This logic presents the potential for recovering an originary tradition or self-othering movement, which is at work amidst the diversity of our traditions. What would come to pass with such a logic would be the realization that a comparison of various traditions would not be a comparison of isolated and divided particular or individual traditions external to one another, but a comparison of the various self-othering movements of an originary human tradition or self-betrayal.    

 

This reading of tradition casts new light on the prevalent self-righteous slogan of remaining ‘true to tradition’, of being loyal and steadfast in the face of all those who desire to ‘corrupt’ and ‘betray’ it; for, as we have seen, it is exactly those who betray a tradition, who are its most ardent defenders. Rather than be suspicious of the thinker who ‘betrays tradition’ by appropriating it in fruitful and rich ways, we would be better served by being suspicious of those who claim that loyalty to tradition consists in the ‘honest’ and ‘pure’ transmission of what is essential to it. In this context the only difference between these two groups is that whereas the former is honest about its engagement, its being in community, with the originary movement of tradition through its betrayal and hence continuation, the latter conceals its complicity, its involvement in tradition’s own betrayal, in its self-othering movement. Faithfulness to tradition can only be sought in its betrayal. If tradition were to ever cease its movement of self-betrayal, it would die, it would become its own sepulchre, its own memory.           

 

 

As soon as tradition has come to be recognized as tradition, it is dead.

                                                      – Allan Bloom -

Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir, Cimetière de Montparnasse in Paris

 

~ by Babak on November 16, 2008.