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Okay, so one of our teams got hit with this K off the book Shortest Shadow about suffering and it's word for word the Rowland Hall Shortest Shadow/God is Dead Kritik. It links directly to ontology so it renders ontology framework useless, how does one answer this? Cites/Cards would be helpful, if not then just an analytical explanation would be great.

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I haven't read The Shortest Shadow in its entirety, and I wouldn't claim to be an "expert" on Nietzsche, but I'm pretty sure Nietzsche doesn't write about anything that could directly link into Ontology. Zupancic's chapter on God Is Dead talks about the Symbolic (Lacanian terms) death of god and how this Symbolic death was abused by other religious groups. Could you maybe explain what you want answers to?

 

Or could you provide a link to the cites on Rowland Halls disclosure?

Edited by Theparanoiacmachine
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I haven't read The Shortest Shadow in its entirety, and I wouldn't claim to be an "expert" on Nietzsche, but I'm pretty sure Nietzsche doesn't write about anything that could directly link into Ontology. Zupancic's chapter on God Is Dead talks about the Symbolic (Lacanian terms) death of god and how this Symbolic death was abused by other religious groups. Could you maybe explain what you want answers to?

 

Or could you provide a link to the cites on Rowland Halls disclosure?

The Affirmative regurgitates past pain and suffering to show them as a moral option in an immoral world. This action is a stimulant used to mask real pain with surplus enjoyment, creating charred men where we feel but are not alive.

Zupancic 03 [alenka, “The Shortest Shadow: Nietzsche’s Philosophy of the Two,†47-49]

It might seem that the notion of the ascetic ideal, as well as Nietzsche’s analysis and criticism of it, somehow belongs to the past, and has no particular relevance to our largely hedonistic “postmodern condition.†Yet this assumption could not be more erroneous. The hedonism of postmodern society, far from representing a step out of the framework of what Nietzsche calls the ascetic ideal, is deeply rooted in this framework. In order to see this, we must first understand that, for Nietzsche, the asceticism involved in the ascetic ideal does not simply involve a renouncement of enjoyment; it involves, above all, a specific mode or articulation of enjoyment. Moreover, one could even say that the ascetic ideal coincides with the very “invention†of enjoyment: enjoyment as different from pleasure, as something which lies—to use Freud’s term—beyond the pleasure principle. If, according to Nietzsche, all great religions are an answer to man’s feelings of displeasure and pain, they never treat the cause of this displeasure. Instead, they soothe the sensation of displeasure— they soothe it by providing an even stronger sensation. They literally “outscream†the displeasure (and the “depressionâ€â€”this is Nietzsche‘s term—linked to it) with an even sharper and more acute feeling, on account of which we no longer feel the previous displeasure. The religious (and especially Christian) cure for “depressive discomfort†comes not in the form of an analgesic or a tranquilizer, but, rather, in the form of an “irritating drug†or “excitation-raiser,†a stimulant. The ascetic ideal, writes Nietzsche, is employed to produce orgies of feeling) 2 It is about immersing the human soul in terrors, ice, flames, and raptures to such an extent that it is liberated from all petty displeasure, gloom, and depression) 3 This is the very core of the ascetic ideal: Everywhere the bad conscience, that “abominable beast,†as Luther called it; everywhere the past regurgitated, the fact distorted, the “jaundiced eye†for all action; . everywhere the scourge, the hair shirt, the starving body, contrition; everywhere the sinner breaking himself on the cruel wheel of a restless morbidly lascivious conscience; everywhere dumb torment, extreme fear, the agony of the tortured heart, convulsions of an unknown happiness . . : awake, everlastingly awake, sleepless, glowing, charred, spent and yet not weary—thus was the man, “the sinner,†initiated into this mystery. This ancient mighty sorcerer in his struggle with displeasure, the ascetic priest—he had obviously won, his kingdom had come: one no longer protested against pain, one thirsted for pain; “more pain! more pain!â€1†In a word, one could say that the thing the ascetic ideal employs in response to displeasure is jouissance, (surplus-) enjoyment: “morbidly lascivious conscience,†“convulsions of an unknown happiness,†and the fundamental imperative: More! Encore! It also invents the “second bodyâ€: a sublime body, sleepless and spent, as if charred, but never weary. Nietzsche repeats this insistently: the ascetic ideal is about excitement—it is, so to speak, a “passion dietâ€; it is not about moderation, it counters passions with a surplus of pure passion. It might be interesting to note that this problematic is very closely connected to the one discussed by Eric Santner in his book On the Psychotheology of Everyday Life: Reflections on Freud and Rosenzwei. Santner starts from the notion that life—or, taken more narrowly, the psyche—is characterized by a constitutive “too-muchness†(the human mind is defined by the fact that it includes more reality than it can contain—it bears an excess, a “too-muchness†of pressure that is not merely physiological). This “too-muchness†of pressure cannot be done away with, but it can take two different forms or paths: it can be either the agent of our engagement “in the midst of life,†or a defense against such engagement. The line between the two, between the passions infusing our engagement in the world and our defenses against such engagement, is often a thin one. The common path is precisely the one that constrains our capacities “by burdening them with an uncanny sort of surplus animation. We are dealing here with a paradoxical kind of mental energy that constrains by means of excess that leaves us stuck and paralyzed precisely by way of a certain kind of intensification and amplification." This effect, which Santner calls “undeadening,†is generative of a disturbing surplus animation, and is not “unlike the king’s ‘second body’ posited by theorists of sovereignty.â€16 What Nietzsche discusses under the name of the ascetic ideal is precisely this kind of passion, in which man is awake—supremely awake, animated and immersed in very strong sensations and feelings—but not alive. The word that Nietzsche uses to express this (a charred man) is very eloquent in itself. In this respect, Nietzsche’s diagnosis is quite contrary to Marx’s diagnosis: religion is not so much the opium of the people, a tranquilizer that constitutes an escape from (harsh) reality, as an “excitation-raiser†which binds us to this reality by activating some mortifying passion. Discomfort is soothed (or silenced) by crises and states of emergency in which a subject feels alive. But this “alive†is nothing other than “undeadness,†the petrifying grip of surplus excitation and agitation. Of course, Nietzsche also often talks about the “opium†dimension of religion: the fairytale about life after death, about the existence of another, better world, about the existence of a righteous judge who can make sense of the often senseless and unfortunate vicissitudes of our daily life. But he does not situate the core of religious mastery (the ascetic ideal) in this dimension. The power and strength of religion (in the form of the ascetic ideal) do not spring from the fact that it promises the suffering and the disappointed a better world in exchange for their faith, thus forcing them to accept and endure the miseries of this world (instead of rising against their causes). Pain and suffering are not simply burdens that a true Christian (who, in Nietzsche’s argument, can very well be an “atheist Christianâ€) stoically endures; they are, rather, something in relation to which a Christian comes to life as a subject. The core of the ascetic ideal lies in its articulation of the economy of enjoyment that—although it needs a reference to a beyond in order to be operative—operates in this “corporeal†world: it is that it mobilizes and motivates souls, and provides them with enjoyment

The desire to mask suffering with enjoyment is the ascetic ideal par excellence. the aff’s morals are employed to make on feel accomplished by their personal restraints.

Zupancic 03 [alenka, “The Shortest Shadow: Nietzsche’s Philosophy of the Two,†47-49]

The ascetic ideal places the Real of pleasure in enjoyment (and posits enjoyment of pain or suffering as the most vivd human experience – an experience in which the degree of self-sensation and self-presence attains its highest intensity, producing a kind of paralyzing wakefulness), and makes it a law. The specificity of this enjoyment-enjoining law—for this is precisely what this law is all about—is that it does not allow for any play of transgression: it does not capture us by means of arousing a transgressive desire to which we cling as to a promise of some secret enjoyment. It is not a law with which we could establish some kind of relationship, situating ourselves as subjects in relation to it. It is a law that leaves nothing outside it, for now, writes Nietzsche, a man is “like a hen imprisoned by a chalk line. He can no longer get out of this chalk cl7 He can, however, rotate in it to infinity: the limit and the infinite are not in contradiction here, since it is the limit itself that is infinite.  It is tempting to say that something was in the air in that second half of the nineteenth century, something that brought Nietzsche to his conceptualization of the ascetic ideal and Freud to his theory of the superego. Lacan’s reading of the superego law in terms of the “imperative of enjoyment†is, of course, very significant in this context. Something has changed in the juncture of Law and enjoyment, in their nexus. Of course, Nietzsche recognizes this mode of enjoyment in the whole history of Christianity; he does not conceive of it as of something that has just recently occurred. Nonetheless, this is the fate (and the power) of most concepts: once they are forged, we can easily recognize their elements in past historical formations, or even in other, older concepts. This, however, does not contradict the fact that Nietzsche writes from the perspective of a certain shift or break that befell the history of Christianity (or, more broadly, of Western civilization as based on Christianity), and that it is only in this break that things that “were there all the time†became visible.  With the term “ascetic ideal,†Nietzsche names the passage from one logic of the law to another, a passage from the law that forbids and regulates enjoyment to the law that commands (not pleasure, but) enjoyment, confronting us with an imperative of enjoyment. Actually, it would be more accurate to say that the two sides of the law—the prohibition of enjoyment and the surplus of enjoyment— were always linked together, mutually supporting each other. (Surplus-) enjoyment is not simply something that is suppressed or repressed by the law. The prohibition of enjoyment equals the creation of a “beyond†where surplus-enjoyment (although forbidden) finds its place. This “beyond†is the very thing from which the law draws its power to attach us, since the law really functions not when it manages to hold us simply by fear of its authority, but when we adhere to it through a specific mode of (our) enjoyment. The “shift†mentioned above concerns the fact that this other side of the law (its “back sideâ€) becomes its front side. Or, perhaps more precisely: (surplus-) enjoyment is no longer a hidden support of the law; rather, it becomes one with the law, as if a kind of short circuit between the two had been established. This could also be expressed in terms of what, in his book Homo sacer, Giorgio Agamben develops at the political level: modern politics is characterized by the fact that the “state of emergency†(the state that is, at one and the same time, the exception to as well as the support of the rule of law) is itself becoming a rule of law.  Thus, the crucial feature of the ascetic ideal does not consist in the fact that the law (as the imperative of duty and self-denial) constitutes a weapon with which we are to fight our passions and drives; the law does not exactly “suppress†the drives and the passions. The problem and power of the ascetic ideal lie in the fact that it is only through it that passion actually “runs wild,†and becomes limitless. In paragraph 229 of Beyond Good and Evil, Nietzsche designates the “fear of the ‘wild, savage beast†(i.e. the fear of what, in men, is supposed to be lawless and animal-like) as superstition. The belief according to which there is some primary “wildness†in man (a wildness that has to be transformed by means of culture and spirit) is an empty belief. If there is a “pure passion†to be found in the history of Christianity (as the essential bearer of the ascetic ideal), it is to be found on the side of the Law, on the side of the ascetic ideal itself. In the struggle against sensuality and corporeality, in the “dissection of conscience,†there is an “abundant, overabundant enjoyment [GenuB].â€8 And “high culture†is based on the deepening and spiritualizing of cruelty: “that ‘wild beast’ has not been killed off at all, it lives and thrives, and it has only — made a divinity of itself...†It is only with the (Christian) law that sensuality as such gets invented. This was Kierkegaard’s thesis, but for Kierkegaard it basically means that, in contrast to the Greek individuality that strove for a balance between the spiritual and the sensual, Christianity, as the affirmation of the spiritual principle, also established its Other: it excluded the sensual, and thus merely granted it its autonomous existence.2° Nietzsche’s emphasis is slightly different: with the formation of the ascetic ideal, the sensual is not simply the Other of the law, but becomes the very thing that the law gives form to—it becomes one with the law. (The ascetic ideal “is employed to produce orgies of feeling,†as Nietzsche puts it.) The fundamental gesture of the ascetic ideal in relation to the sensual is not exclusion but, rather, something like a complete appropriation, an inclusion without any remainder. The sensual itself takes on the form of the law. If, on the one hand, the purely sensual or boundless passion is a fiction generated by the law (i.e. a fiction of an otherness sustained by the law), it is, on the other hand, the very Real of the law. Pure sensuality (passion, pleasure, voluptuousness) is nothing but the law itself. The law becomes the only Real (in the sense of the only source of excitation, passion, pleasure, and pain): the pleasures that remain outside (it) are, strictly speaking, “null†and “void†in relation to the (overabundant) pleasure that the law provides, gives body to, and enjoins. In this context, the assertion about the “nullity of pleasures†(outside the frame of the ascetic ideal) is not simply empty ideological talk, flatly contradicted by the Real of human experience. The triumph of the ascetic ideal consists precisely in the fact that, at some point, it conquers the very soil of “real human experience.†Before this, the pleasure might well have been dispersed, chaotic, without clear boundaries; yet this does not meant that it was infinite and boundless before the law set limits to it. On the contrary, the law (of the ascetic ideal) is the very name for limitless pleasure, for the enjoyment that became infinite and fathomless. In the ascetic ideal, the law is not something that sets limits to passion, restraining and regulating it. Instead, it is the very outlet of passion. It is the passion of the infinite or an infinite passion—even though it takes the form of an infinite passion to set limits, to purify, to narrow the circle around the pure. The only (now existing) infinite passion is the passion that takes on the form of the law. Precisely as the struggle against displeasure (in response to which it employs enjoyment), Christianity is also a struggle against pleasure, defined exactly as that which, in enjoyment, is not real (“fleeting pleasures,†“passing voluptuousnessâ€) but “illusory.†And the genuine triumph of the ascetic ideal comes when people themselves (atheists included) actually and personally begin to feel that such pleasure is indeed “empty,†“null†and “illusory—that is to say, when it is no longer necessary for all kinds of church authorities to preach about it. This is why the ascetic ideal attains its climax (or becomes what it is) only after the “death of God.† I have already indicated the proximity of these arguments to some of Freud’s claims from Civilization and Its Discontents. What Nietzsche analyzes under the name of “ascetic ideal†corresponds, almost point by point, to what Freud calls the superego, the law of an insatiable passion. The more we obey it, the more we sacrifice to it—the more it wants, and the more it gains in strength and severity. We are dealing with the same image of vampirism that is also present in Nietzsche: the (superego) law literally feeds on the drives, devouring their “blood,†and ultimately becoming the only real locus of enjoyment. It could be said that the superego itself comes to be “structured like a drive.†It is common knowledge that Freud posits a kind of temporal paradox at the very core of the superego and the moral conscience linked to it: the renouncement of the drives creates conscience, and conscience demands the renouncement of the drives.2’ In this way, the very form of renouncing becomes a form of enjoyment, a mode of its organization. This is especially blatant in obsessional neurosis, in which Freud recognizes the paradigm of “religious†thinking. 

 

 

Our alternative is to forget about the suffering in the 1ac. the pain cited by the 1ac is only attended to by the memory of the 1ac to further asceticism, only a break away from these memories solves.

Zupancic 03 [alenka, “The Shortest Shadow: Nietzsche’s Philosophy of the Two,†57-60]

This is perhaps the moment to examine in more detail what Nietzschean “forgetting†is actually about. What is the capacity of forgetting as the basis of “great healthâ€? Nietzsche claims that memory entertains some essential relationship with pain. This is what he describes as the principle used in human “mnemotechnicsâ€: “If something is to stay in the memory it must be burned in: only that which never ceases to hurt stays in the memoryâ€21 Thus, if memory is essentially related to pain (here it seems that Nietzsche claims the opposite of what psychoanalysis is claiming: that traumatic events are the privileged objects of repression; yet pain is not the same thing as trauma, just as “forgetting†is not the same thing as repressing), then forgetting refers above all to the capacity not to nurture pain. This also means the capacity not to make pain the determining ground of our actions and choices. What exactly is pain (not so much physical pain, but, rather, the “mental pain†that can haunt our lives)? It is a way in which the subject internalizes and appropriates some traumatic experience as her own bitter treasure, In other words, in relation to the traumatic event, pain is not exactly a part of this event, but already its memory (the “memory of the bodyâ€). And Nietzschean oblivion is not so much an effacement of the traumatic encounter as a preservation of its external character, of its foreignness, of its otherness. In Unfashionable Observations, Second Piece (“On the Utility and Liability of History for Lifeâ€), Nietzsche links the question of forgetting (which he employs as a synonym for the ahistorical) to the question of the act. Forgetting, oblivion, is the very condition of possibility for an act in the strong sense of the word. Memory (the “historicalâ€) is eternal sleeplessness and alert insomnia, a state in which no great thing can happen, and which could even be said to serve this very purpose. Considering the common conception according to which memory is something monumental that “fixes†certain events, and closes us within their horizon, Nietzsche proposes a significantly different notion. It is precisely as an eternal openness, an unceasing stream, that memory can immobilize us, mortify us, make us incapable of action. Nietzsche invites us to imagine the extreme example of a human being who does not possess the power to forget. Such a human being would be condemned to see becoming everywhere: he would no longer believe in his own being, would see everything flow apart in turbulent particles, and would lose himself in this stream of becoming. He would be like the true student of Heraclitus. A human being who wanted to experience things in a thoroughly historical manner would be like someone forced to go without sleep.28 Memory holds us in eternal motion—it keeps opening numerous horizons, and this is precisely how it immobilizes us, forcing us into frenetic activity. Hence, Nietzsche advances a thesis that is as out of tune with our time as it was with his own: “every living thing can become healthy, strong and fruitful only within a defined horizon; if it is incapable of drawing a horizon around itself and too selfish, in turn, to enclose its own perspective within an alien horizon, then it will feebly waste away or hasten to its timely end.â€29 Of course, Nietzsche’s aim here is not to preach narrow-mindedness and pettiness, nor is it simply to affirm the ahistorical against history and memory. On the contrary, he clearly states that it is only by thinking, reflecting, comparing, analyzing, and synthesizing (i.e. only by means of the power to utilize the past for life, and to reshape past events into history) that the human being becomes properly human. Yet, in the excess of history, the human being ceases to be human once again, no longer able to create or invent. This is why Nietzsche insists that “every great historical event†is born in the “ahistorical atmosphere,†that is to say, in conditions of oblivion and closure: Imagine a man seized and carried away by a vehement passion for a woman or for a great idea; how his world changes’ Looking backward he feels he is blind, listening around he hears what is unfamiliar as a dull, insignificant sound; and those things that he perceives at all he never before perceived in this way; so palpable and near, colorful, resonant, illuminated, as though he were apprehending it with all his senses at once. All his valuations are changed and devalued;. . . It is the most unjust condition in the world, narrow, ungrateful to the past, blind to dangers, deaf to warnings; a tiny whirlpool of life in a dead sea of night and oblivion; and yet this condition—ahistorical, antihistorical through and through— is not only womb of the unjust deed, but of every just deed as well; and no aftist will create a picture, no general win a victory, and no people gain its freedom without their having previously desired and striven to accomplish these deeds in just such an ahistorical condition. . Thus, everyone who acts loves his action infinitely more than it deserves to be loved, and the best deeds occur in such an exuberance of love that, no matter what, they must be unworthy of this love, even if their worth were otherwise incalculably great.3° If we read this passage carefully, we note that the point is not simply that the capacity to forget, or the “ahistorical condition,†is the condition of “great deeds†or “events.†On the contrary: it is the pure surplus of passion or love (for something) that brings about this closure of memory, this “ahistorical condition.†In other words, it is not that we have first to close ourselves within a defined horizon in order then to be able to accomplish something. The closure takes place with the very (“passionateâ€) opening toward something (“a woman or a great ideaâ€). Nietzsche’s point is that if this surplus passion engages us “in the midst of life,†instead of mortifying us, it does so via its inducement of forgetting. Indeed, I could mention a quite common experience here: whenever something important happens to us and incites our passion, we tend to forget and dismiss the grudges and resentments we might have been nurturing before. Instead of “forgiving†those who might have injured us in the past, we forget and dismiss these injuries. If we do not, if we “work on our memory†and strive to keep these grudges alive, they will most probably affect and mortify our (new) passion. It could also be interesting to relate Nietzsche’s reflections from the quoted passage to the story of Hamlet, in which the imperative to remember, uttered by Hamlet’s father’s Ghost, plays a very prominent role. Remember me! Remember me!, the Ghost repeats to Hamlet, thus engaging him in the singular rhythm that characterizes the hero of this play—that of the alternation between resigned apathy and frenetic activity or precipitate actions (his killing of Polonius, as well as that of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern; his engagement in the duel with Laertes . . .). This movement prevents Hamlet from carrying out the very deed his father’s Ghost charges him with. Many things have been said and written about the relationship between action and knowledge in this play, and about how knowledge prevents Hamlet from acting. Although the two notions are not unrelated, it might be interesting to consider this also in terms of memory (not only in terms of knowledge). It could be worthwhile to contemplate the role played by the imperative of memory. Could we not say that one of the fundamental reasons for the difficulty of Hamlet’s position is precisely the structural incompatibility of memory and action— that is to say, the fact that action ultimately always “betrays†memory? And do we not encounter something similar in the wider phenomenon of melancholy (in the play, Hamlet is actually said to be “melancholicâ€) as a never-ending grief that keeps alive, through pain, the memory of what was lost? Additionally, although we can recognize in this kind of melancholy a form of fidelity (for instance—to use Nietzsche’s words—fidelity to “a woman or a great ideaâ€), this kind of fidelity, bound to memory, should be distinguished from fidelity to the very event of the encounter with this woman or idea. Contrary to the first form, this second form of fidelity implies and presupposes the power to forget. Of course, this does not mean to forget in the banal sense of no longer remembering the person or the idea in question, but in the sense that forgetting liberates the potential of the encounter itself, and opens up—precisely through its “closureâ€â€”the possibility of a new one.

 

 

 

So these are the cards, and then they had a card saying ontology is the regurgitation of the past and linked it directly to Heidegger and ontology. 

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This is literally an ultra-generic Nietzsche shell with Zupancic-esque Nietzsche alt. If you want, I can send you the exact 2NC/1NR block and cites they will read so you can respond to them directly and that link card. The way your explaining that link card is kinda nonsensical btw, if they really did say that they probably had no idea wtf to read as a link and made some dumb shit up because ontology isn't "the regurgitation of the past"

 

You should just read answers to Nietzsche.

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Yeah sure, could you send me those? DM me or something, that'd be super great. And yeah I'm probably knot, I haven't taken a proper look at that link card, I just know they linked it in a way like that.

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So these are the cards, and then they had a card saying ontology is the regurgitation of the past and linked it directly to Heidegger and ontology.

Nice, the analysis wasn't ontology is the regurgitation of the past but I could see where you would get that from, there was a MUCH different analysis put on it in the block and several cross-applications which probably muddled it a little. Also, we didn't have a card saying ontology was the regurgitation of the past, we just linked it to Heidegger's concept of being and the impact(s) of the round

Edited by payton
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As someone who browses this mainly on their phone, that 48 point font was ridiculously unnecessary.

I do too, that was a huge mistake on my part, sorry 

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Nice, the analysis wasn't ontology is the regurgitation of the past but I could see where you would get that from, there was a MUCH different analysis put on it in the block and several cross-applications which probably muddled it a little. Also, we didn't have a card saying ontology was the regurgitation of the past, we just linked it to Heidegger's concept of being and the impact(s) of the round

Oh, aight, see, what I heard was from our team so I didn't get the entire story and that does make sense. Thanks Payton

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