kojeve, hegel's master/slave dialectic, signs, faith

For about six years it's been a ritual of mine upon entering a used bookstore to immediately browse the philosophy section for a copy of Alexander Kojeve's Introduction to the Reading of Hegel. I don't know why I initially refused to purchase a new copy, but over the years the ritual became an act of faith -- when it was Time, the Book would appear. After stepping into the San Francisco Mission District's Adobe Books for the first time about three years ago, I knew I'd found the place of the book's eventual arrival. It finally happened this last weekend.

The book was first given to me by a philosophy professor who knew I was struggling with Hegel's Phenomenology of Spirit. She warned me that Kojeve's interpretations were often accused of playing up the importance of points supporting his views while glossing over others -- and, moreover, that Kojeve's "cliff's notes" approach would have certainly enraged Hegel, who felt his students would only truly learn to navigate his labyrinth if they entered without a map. Undoubtedly, there is truth to such claims, yet (in my understanding at least) Kojeve was something of a St. Paul to Hegel's Christ (which would make Marx St. Augustine? Er, no, wrong chronology - Judas?) -- his take on Hegel's Phenomenology, even if it gets some things wrong, became the dominant interpretation of the mighty generations (the existentialists, structuralists, etc) which directly followed. So much so, in fact, that an understanding of Kojeve's view is essential to understanding what Hegel means to us. Besides, anyone advocating even the possiblity of a purist reading of Hegel should keep in mind Hegel's last words: "Only one man ever understood me, and even he didn't understand me."

That said, the clarity that Kojeve brings to those parts of the Phenomenology he considers most important (namely, the Master/Slave dialectic, and his exposition of Self-Consciousness as Desire) is breathtaking. I've read no other commentary that does such an effective job of cutting through the surface ornamentation to reveal the fundamental mechanics of the Hegelian "thought-machine".

What you'll get now is my gloss-over of Kojeve's gloss-over. Consider yourself forewarned.

Consciousness is desire.
Animal desire (consciousness) is directed toward the biological "realm". E.g., an animal desires to eat and this eating sustains the animal's biological life, nothing more.
Human consciousness is self-consciousness. In other words, desire directed toward desire. That is, inasmuch as I am a human being and not (merely) an animal, I desire that other human beings desire me (or my desire). Simply put, I desire recognition.
But recognition of what? On the most primordial, existential, fundamental level, I desire recognition, acknowledgement, that I am a human self-consciousness and not merely an animal.
To obtain this recognition from the other, I must prove that I have human and not merely animal desire.
The only way to do this is to show, beyond doubt, that I am willing to lose my animal life for the sake of fulfilling my human desire. This is precisely what a merely animal being would never do.
The other is in exactly the same position, thinking exactly the same thoughts.
How should we prove this to one another -- indeed, force this recognition upon one another -- beyond any doubt whatsoever?
By engaging in a fight to the death. By doing so, each one of us proves that she or he is willing to lose her or his life for the sake of recognition.
Whoever surrenders first (assuming one of us does) becomes a slave of the other, and the other becomes a master.
This is the beginning of history. Kojeve remarks:

Man was born and History began with the first Fight that ended in the appearance of a Master and a Slave . . . And universal history, the history of the interaction between men and of their interaction with Nature, is the history of the interaction between warlike Masters and working Slaves. Consequently, History stops at the moment when the difference, the opposition, between Master and Slave disappears . . . Now, according to Hegel, it is in and by the wars of Napolean, and in particular, the Battle of Jena, that this completion of History is realized through the dialectical overcoming (Aufheben) of both the Master and the Slave. (pp. 43-44)

My professor claimed that while she doesn't disagree that history has in fact been "the history of the interaction between warlike Masters and working Slaves" she doesn't agree with Hegel's portrayal of this unfortunate state of affairs as absolutely inevitable. I tentatively agreed with her, but was unable to articulate an alternative scenario that satisfied Hegel's definition of human self-consciousness as desire for recognition (which seemed, and still does, basically right to me).

It occurs to me now, however, that what the warring self-consciousnesses seek is first and foremost a sign (proving that you a) are a human being and b) acknowledge my humanity). For Hegel, the only satisfactory sign is the demonstration of a willingness to fight to the death. But can we imagine another kind of sign that would accomplish the same ends?

Let's try restating Hegel's definition of human self-consciousness in terms of signs. To seek recognition is to seek the production of a certain kind of sign from the other (again, one that proves you are a human being who acknowledges my humanity). Human beings, then, can additionally be defined -- without abandoning Hegel's definition -- as seekers and producers of signs, as beings which communicate via signs (as opposed to mere codes, which characterize animal communication and which do not incorporate desire directed toward the desire of others).

Instead of initiating a fight to the death, let's say that one of us draws something (perhaps with our finger on dirt or sand): an image, such as a crude representation of something in our immediate surroundings, or even a simple circle or square. Once I see you draw this (and assuming you clearly direct my attention to it) I realize that you, like me, are capable of intentionally creating something that has no immediately practical purpose (unlike, say, a bird's creation of a nest). This alone makes you more than an animal (or at least a very peculiar one). Moreover, because you direct my attention to your creation, I realize that you intend it for me. In other words, I realize that you've created a sign for me to interpret. While this doesn't acknowledge my humanity, it does ask: "are you, like me, the kind of being to whom this gesture, this drawing, can have a meaning?" Because only a human being could ask that question, you've proven your humanity; all that's left is for me to make a sign in response to prove mine.

What then? A universal history of friendship, history as the unfolding of the implications of that mythological First Conversation? Maybe the brutes would have taken over anyway, but I don't think I can ever resign myself to the notion that all the misery and horror of history was necessary. Which constitutes the closest thing to any real faith that I have.