Woodlief on "Self-Reliance"

[Connect discussion from last year's class: don't read until AFTER you have read our discussion, please!]
Emerson said, toward the end of his writing career, "I have taught one doctrine, namely, the infinitude of the private man." That's why we begin our study of American romanticism with this essay (which in my opinion is not one of his best--but more on that later). His basic philosophical faith (one shared by many Americans) is that the ultimate source of truth is within ourselves. We recognize truth outside ourselves, in nature or in others, and the key word here is "recognize," even if only very dimly. We are often not "in touch" with ourselves or trusting enough to find these truths and so must often depend on others, books, etc. to express it for us, but it is somehow within us. Now, there's no particular empirical evidence for this; Emerson is making a great intuitive leap of faith, and you either believe (because you've experienced it to some degree) or you don't. It is this concept of what some critics call the "imperial self" which lies at the heart of romanticism, both positively and negatively.

However, this is not necessarily self-centered, because the truth which lies within is universal, shared and recognized by all (if they only knew it) and generated by Self (God, Over-soul, whatever). All we can really know is within us, but we must assume that other people have the same potential as we do--and assume that they do, in fact, exist (although you really can't prove it!) Presumably, trusting oneself means much more than that; it means trusting that somehow or other we have an innate wisdom which is a projection of the god within, and that every person has that wisdom, although few have much access to it. Those few we often call poets and prophets (but never politicians!) and we cherish the insights into our own truths that we glimpse through them. Theoretically, then, to believe in our selves and our deep capacity to understand and recognize truths is to believe in every self, though we have no access to any other self besides us. Practically it may be another matter, but Emerson is an idealist and not terribly practical (we can't all be everything!)

The major flaw in this essay, I think, is that you feel that he is hitting you over the head with the same idea over and over, like a big hammer labeled "believe in yourself." This is something that many of you remarked on. I'm sure you wished to cry out, "ok Ralphie, I've got it, I've got it!" He makes sure that you consider the implications of this idea in every way possible. It doesn't matter if there are gaps in what you understand; he'll catch up with you somewhere or other in the essay. A little overkill, perhaps. Why? Whom is he trying to convince?

Remember that we are reading this 150 years later or so. What seemed like a rather novel idea then has become a cliche, embedded in just about every self-help "psychology" book in the local mall bookstore that you can find. It is hard for us to see the original force of this in 1838, when people felt far less secure about themselves, as individuals and as Americans (whatever that was). In many ways, this is as much a cultural/intellectual declaration of independence as it is an exhortation to believe in yourself. Its major power today is probably directed toward the high school reader, struggling with the very powerful forces toward conformity that seem endemic in American high schools. (Remember?) However, it also works in a class like this, where I am, in a sense, forcing you to express your ideas and not giving you such an easy way out as taking notes on what wisdom I might have to impart.

Emerson had his own personal reasons for writing this. He was deeply insecure in many ways (aren't we all?), and a rather revolutionary speech about religion that he delivered at the Harvard Divinity School about this time (asserting the doctrine of the God within) caused a tremendous uproar and criticism from people he respected. There would be no job for his at Harvard! He had left the ministry a few years earlier and had lost his young wife to tuberculosis after 18 months of marriage. He didn't really have a career; he just had the ideas he believed passionately and thought needed to be heard. The rhetoric of this essay shows signs of his years in the pulpit; it's like he's demanding you to listen and to go out and act. But he may well be exhorting himself just as much as, if not more than, his readers. What he wanted to do--to establish himself a place as a writer and thinker--was extraordinarily difficult to do outside of an institution like the church or the university (so what else has changed!), and it would take all the nerve he could summon. And after all, he was no kid; he was 35 years old and counting.

I suppose what bothers me most about this essay is that it all sounds so simple: just make up your mind to trust your deepest instincts and go for it! I know it isn't that simple--and in fact, so did Emerson, and seeing the problems inherent in such a personally energizing idea kept him busy writing for some time. If you look carefully, you can see some awareness of this conflict in the essay, but it doesn't really blossom forth for a while. For one thing, he gives a lot of credit to innate goodness, and almost totally ignores the very crucial environmental shaping factors. He and his readers were raised in an extremely "moral" environment, and though they might rebel against church doctrine, they were deeply "indoctrinated" with those moral codes. This is not necessarily the case in the "murder capital of the world"! Another problem is the extreme "masculinity" of the essay--one of his favorite words is "manliness." I can just visualize this very assertive and muscular male as an underlying ideal (was Emerson insecure about that too? Probably, since writers/thinkers/preachers were considered rather feminized by his society, unlike those competitive, money-making businessmen so idealized by his compatriots.) I don't believe that self-trust is a male-marked trait, although I suspect that he does believe it (though, bless his heart, he doesn't really know it!). I know, I'm reading this from my own perspective, but as Emerson would say, isn't that the only way you can read? Actually, I think you can try to place yourself in another context, but that must be a work of imagination to some degree (I can try, anyhow; I'll just substitute woman for man and you can do whatever you like!)

Emerson doesn't just keep preaching the same doctrine though, you may be relieved to hear, or at least not with the same simplistic fervour. There is a flip side to this: as exciting and energizing it may be to follow your deepest instincts and do/say what you think is right, it's also depressing to think that maybe all we can know is what is within us. In a sense, we may be imprisoned within our own perceptions and experiences, and can never really know what might be true. We can't even be sure if anyone or anything else exists, because all we can know is what's in our little individual heads. Emerson will come to see this, as well as the many limitations on our power that are imposed by circumstances and environment, which he calls Fate. He gets a lot more interesting when he tries to reconcile--and really can't--these conflicting forces.

Wouldn't it be nice if all we had to do is "trust ourselves" and follow our own stars? Actually, it's rather amazing what people can accomplish if they do just that. However, that's not the whole story, and Emerson knew it, especially after life dealt him a few more tough blows--like his beloved 5 year old son dying of scarlet fever. Self-reliance looks like a pretty puny doctrine in light of a tragedy like that.

So the important thing is not whether Emerson is right or wrong here. He's both--and we are to draw from the essay what means the most to us. That's one reason it's written as it is. Buried in there are sentences which strike right to the heart of readers, and suggest all kinds of possibilities for them. For example, many students trying to see their way ahead in life have found great comfort in this metaphor:
" The voyage of the best ship is a zigzag line of a hundred tacks. See the line from a sufficient distance, and it straightens itself to the average tendency. Your genuine action will explain itself, and will explain your other genuine actions. "

You could interpret this in several ways. When you look at your life, especially when you are young, if you follow your "inner gyroscope" and do things and take courses that just "feel right," it might look to others (parents in particular) as if you just can't make up your mind and are zigzagging all over the place. The coherence will be an inner one, perhaps not even visible to you, but over time, it will probably make sense, just as you have to zigzag when sailing to reach a point most directly. One difference, of course, is that you (unlike the sailor) often haven't a clue where or what that "point" might be, and have to trust that by following your instincts and strengths, you'll actually reach some kind of point. I find that rather profound, as I look at my own life, and the decisions that I made that didn't make a lot of sense, perhaps, to others and seemed inconsistent, but that were in fact quite consistent with who I was and what I wanted to be, although I hadn't a clue what that might be (I never dreamed I'd end up teaching, etc.!)

OK, that's my personal testimony (although I'll admit, I cruised past that passage when I was in college and needed to read it most)--you'll have your own, I imagine. If you'll be patient with Emerson (and his vocabulary and greater reading knowledge), he is likely to speak very personally to you, if not on this reading then maybe on another. Besides, just think of all the money you can save on those self-help books and therapy groups by going right to the source!


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