My beloved Sam,
So the semester has officially started and, boy, do I
know it. I remember telling you about my serious motives: not to get carried
away by some misguided feeling of being on vacation, to devote my time (or at
least the bulk of it) to studying, that sort of stuff. Following up on those
motives, I tried and succeeded in requesting to be included in not one, but two
research-colloquia. So beside the ‘ordinary’ undergraduate course on ‘Three
Artwork-Essays’ (two hours per week), I am now present at prof. Martin Seel’s
colloquium (once a week, two hours) and prof. Christoph Menke’s colloquium
(which is bi-weekly, but lasts a whopping four hours). Besides this I am doing
what my fellow-students will recognize as a tutorial (but is here called a ‘Lektorium’)
together with one dr. Stefan Deines.[1]
Originally, my plans were to do this tutorial with one of the professors named
above, but, as I have learned, that was not a realistic play. Not to worry,
however: my weekly sessions with Stefan have been very fruitful. Before I delve
into the matter more deeply, one of the benefits of a tutorial with a
‘less-renowned’ figure (his words, I assure you!) can be glanced from the fact
that our sessions last for exactly how long it takes for us to exhaustively discuss
a text, i.e. until either the added benefit of further discussion or one of us is completely exhausted.[2]
And then, besides these engagements with the ‘professional’ crowd, I am doing
what is called an ‘autonomous Tutorium’, a reading group of just students with
at least one advanced student who organizes and leads the discussions in
exchange for ECTS (!). This particular Tutorium is on Adorno’s aesthetic theory
(not exactly the book, but the dimension of Adorno’s thought). Lastly I am
participating in a reading circle on Nietzsche’s The Gay Science. The latter is also a get-together of just
students, but is different from a ‘Tutorium’ in that nobody gets any ECTS and
no reading is done in advance. Also dann,
ich bin dran! You won’t hear me complain though, I basically just got what
I asked for: a veritable shitload of required reading, plus the time to read
said shitload. If it’s alright with you, I would like to tell you more about
each of these activities, enumerated above, in turn. I promise you that, rather
than leading to a dry and boring story, it will provide a useful handle to get
a grip on student-life here, (considered more holistically, if you will). This
is not a philosophical essay (I know how much I can bore you with those), so I
feel justified in only vaguely making clear my motive for this method of
proceeding: I move from the ordinary course, the domain of the hierarchical,
the anonymous, the bound character of both the pace and subject, to the reading
circle, in many ways the very opposite: a circle drawn in the egalitarian,
intimate and free-flowing domain of a bunch of students getting together to
read and talk Nietzsche, with drinks at a blues-café afterwards. Taking this
route will, I believe, shed a light on precisely the way in which the former
domain ‘trickles down’ into the latter, i.e. in which a kind of ‘hard-working student’-mentality
is transposed from its original context and takes on new shapes as it moves on
down the line.[3]
The undergraduate course, a course on three essays by the
notable figures of Walter Benjamin, Martin Heidegger and Erwin Panofsky (yes,
the latter is apparently also a notable figure), is basically the biggest
course I have ever been a part of, at least during my Master’s programme. There
are easily over a hundred students following this course and there are a couple
of reasons for this, not least of them being the fact that it is taught by not
one, not two, but three renowned professors: Menke, Seel and Honneth. You can
imagine how hard it is to get a word in during class: when not arguing with
each other, the void is immediately filled with either 10 to 20 students who
would also like to make their reading explicit, or, and this happens more
often, with one of the many PhD-students stepping in. Yes, you read that right,
there are quite a number of PhD-students following this undergraduate course. I
guess you can’t blame them for being interested in this course, but their
presence shows something I believe to be profound about the academic climate
here: PhD-students seem to be students first and PhD’s second. Of course they
are a little higher up the food chain compared to us mortals, but in any case
their presence makes clear the importance of this food chain. Because how else
can one go about teaching a class of this magnitude? I always thought Utrecht
had a mass university; the countless stories of a ‘Scramble for the Library’
taking place every morning at the UB certainly cemented this idea.
Goethe-Universität Frankfurt, however, is on a completely different field of
play. Sometimes, when getting of the subway with the countless of other
students, I catch myself marching to the pace of the student in front of me. I
know I am not the only one that does this. I find this phenomenon unnerving, to
say the least.
Now I have to relativize these remarks, because nothing
in Frankfurt seems to be straightforward. Most notably in this context is the
enduring legacy of the ’68-student movement, the effects of which are still
tangibly present throughout the university.[4] In
more ways than one, my professors seem self-consciously aware of the hierarchy
in place and because of this, they seem to make an honest effort in trying to
remove its sting. So, whenever I do manage to get a word in, I at least have
the feeling that I am being taken seriously, that my questions and/or criticism
is given the same amount of weight that would be assigned to a remark by a
professor. Within all of its strict and often unwritten rules, this allows for
a refreshing feeling concomitant with having one’s opinion be valued, a feeling
that is not always present at Utrecht, I must say.
Getting a word in though, phew. That is something I have,
until now, managed only to do during the colloquia. It is difficult to do,
because I have noticed that the style of proceeding, both during the undergrad course
and the colloquia, is rather different as compared to Utrecht. Instead of just
throwing the topic at large out there and seeing what (if any) responses
follow, a professor rather introduces a certain focus that he or she thinks
merits response. Participants then, rather than calling for clarity on a
certain issue that puzzled them,
present their own readings of the text that they think bring clarity and
alleviate the sense of puzzlement thrown out there by the professor. Difficult
though it is for me to adjust to this different style of philosophizing, I kind
of like it. In part simply just because it represents a different style of
philosophizing, but also because it forces you to really think things through
before ‘taking the floor’, something I guess I am wont to do with reckless
abandon. Adding to my difficulties is of course the language barrier: even
though my German is, by now, pretty good in ordinary conversation and even
though I have absolutely no trouble listening and understanding, you can
imagine that delivering a certain reading is hard enough in its own right, not
to mention delivering a reading aufs
Deutsch. But, please, don’t think I am merely taking pity on myself. You
may know me as being fond of the all-too Dutch tradition of ‘zeiken’, but I
insist that you have never known me to shy away from a challenge. To this
effect I can say that the colloquia here are nothing if not an exciting arena,
in some ways more so than in Utrecht. This is partly because students aren’t as
present at the colloquia, and those that are tend to sit in the back, simply
content to be spectators, which is a shame for them, but all the better for me.
The exhilaration of having all eyes on you is tenfold as a total newcomer and
outsider, somewhere having the (probably illusory) idea that he is sticking it
to the man by speaking out of turn, I love it. Who would have thought that my
craving for attention could be a saving grace?
Now, the Goethe-Universität has a remarkable institution
that goes by the name of ‘autonome Tutorien’ or: autonomous tutorials. The idea
is that students in the finishing stages of their Master’s programme and aiming
for an academic career, should also get the chance to develop the more
autonomous skills associated with a PhD-position. This has led to the practice
of advanced students leading a reading group, planning the meetings, preparing
the discussion, informing the reading list, et cetera, in exchange for ECTS.
You read that right: leading such a tutorial can be part of your programme. I
cannot stress enough how much this idea baffled me and how much I love it. Once
I get back to Utrecht, I will not rest until this idea is implemented over
there too. And why not? In terms of study load/teaching load, it is a total
no-brainer: the student heading the tutorial can meet with a teacher in the
appropriate field for one meeting beforehand to get a green light regarding the
reading material, the number of meetings, et cetera (let’s say this would take
1 hour at most) and afterwards the student meets with the teacher again for an
oral exam (again, wouldn’t take longer than 1 hour). That is no more than 2
hours for something that counts for 7,5 ECTS (at least it does here). In terms
of the RMa’s aims (grooming potential PhD-candidates) it also makes sense:
especially in the Netherlands, where PhD’s are expected also to teach, surely
the intricacies of organizing and heading a reading group would function as a
great stepping stone towards actually teaching a course. But also on a more
global scale PhD-students are occupied with far more than just their research
project; having the skills (and also written proof of it) required to keep
afloat in the bureaucratic machine that drives all modern universities,[5]
this can only be beneficial.
I will spare you further arguments I intend to level at
my programme coordinator, because I simply must speak to you about the reading
circle on Nietzsche I am doing. Now, my remarks on this should be considered
nothing more than anecdotal; so far there has been only one meeting, and
anything else I say is based on nothing, save what I’ve gathered through the
grapevines. I feel justified in telling you, because I’ve known you to be a
lifelong fan of anything that is passed on through these hallowed grapevines.
From what I can gather, reading groups (or, rather: ‘Lesekreise’)
are a very common thing, here. Students very much feel the need for a platform for
discussion on a level of total equality, beyond any hierarchy (“Come back
Habermas, all is forgiven!”). As such I have had several offers to join in, one
of which I accepted because it was a reading group concerning Nietzsche’s The Gay Science. I’ve been a philosophy
student for almost six years and have never read any work of Nietzsche. This is
of course a stereotype: the philosophy-student who is practically in love with
Nietzsche and every other word she/he says is something derived from Nietzsche.
Partly just because of this stereotype, I avoided reading his works, but I do
feel it is sort of a blasphemy[6] to
graduate in philosophy without having actually read one book by the philosopher
with the hammer.[7]
More important than my tentative thoughts about Nietzsche, though, is the mentality
of this reading group. To paint the picture: we simply agreed to meet up
somewhere on campus. To settle formalities such as the schedule and the exact
readings, I assumed. To my surprise, we gathered there to start reading: one of
us brought several copies of the work, another started reading aloud and any of
us would jump in anytime we thought a passage merited discussion.
The refreshing (if somewhat frivolous) character of this
way of proceeding left aside, notice what is expressed here: a certain
mentality, born within the strict hierarchy of an undergraduate course but
unable to fully come to fruition there. There is a tangible sense here of the
importance of reading ‘the classics’, and because there are so many classics,
this sense can’t help but spill over. Thus, having this undergraduate course as
its source, this mentality found its way among a couple of students who have
absolutely nothing to do with Nietzsche, save the audacity to read Nietzsche
when having nothing to do with Nietzsche. An ‘official course’ with such a
strict hierarchy might be stifling, a reading group with such a frivolous way
of proceeding might be irritating, but in an odd way, the combination of both
levels it all out. The first session of this reading group was very enjoyable,
also because we winded up going to a club afterwards, to drink some beers and
hear some blues music. I really can’t decide: were we being serious students,
or were we being frivolous? Can we be both?
If talked for far too long, I know. If I seem somewhat
longwinded, it’s because it’s hard to make sense of all these experiences,
especially if you consider the fact that I am now and then dealing with a
creeping sort of homesickness. I would like to say that it hasn’t reached
critical mass yet. Then again, it is a fact that yesterday I listened not once,
not twice, but thrice to Claudia de Breij’s ‘(Ode aan) Utrecht’.[8] I
am not proud of this fact. I hope you are doing well. I heard from Sal that you’ve
persisted in the habit of showing up at my (or, for now: his) front door.
Luckily for you, he seems to be quite alright with it. Even though I have so
much more to tell you, for now I must remain,
Yours, unconditionally,
Clint
[1] Technically, Stefan is not a Doctor
yet, but a ‘dr. des.’ or: ‘Doctor designatus’. From what I can gather from
Wikipedia, the latter is a title for one who has met all requirements to become
a doctor but has not yet published his dissertation. Leave it up to German
‘Gründlichkeit’ to come up with a separate title for this contingency.
Seriously though, by all means check out Stefan’s Academia-page at https://uni-frankfurt.academia.edu/StefanDeines , he works at the intersection of
theoretical and practical philosophy (as an aesthetician should, in my opinion)
and has uploaded a very interesting paper there on the culturally defined
epistemological limits to properly appreciating art. (That right there is a
topic that should provide a veritable meal for thought for philosophers of both
the practical and theoretical denomination.)
[2] Yes, even German ‘Gründlichkeit’
has its benefits.
[3] An idea for my next letter would
then be to take the opposite route, a route potentially even more interesting
in that it would aim at showing how the informal creeps into the notoriously formal
life of ‘German academia proper’.
[4] Here’s one of the nicer ways
in which the Movement’s effects are still felt: the university consistently
refers to students as ‘Studierenden’,
i.e. ‘those that are studying’, a term chosen because of its gender-neutrality.
[5] I mentioned this in my previous
letter, I know, but it is worth repeating ad
nauseum: the same institutions that once provided a home for those people
most fiercely concerned with stressing the primacy of real human relationships
and the way they work (Walter Benjamin, Hannah Arendt, Georg Lukács, to name
but a few), these institutions, now, resemble nothing but the very evil these
theorists tried to make clear. It is, on all accounts, a bitter irony.
[6] I wonder what Nietzsche would say
of it.
[7] Undoubtedly there are countless
other philosophers which I simply must have read, if you press me on the question
why exactly Nietzsche, I must come up short. It is simply a feeling.
[8] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=glzgLQUGH2A
