Soren Kierkegaard

abominable, or rather, an insane fantasy the likes of which has never been
heard of before; never before has anyone seen this form of pure subjectivity
and sheer negation pushed to such an extreme. He has no doctrine, no
System. When all is said and done, he doesn’t know anything: He continu-
ally repeats or rings changes on a number of aphoristic sayings, a few max-
ims, and a couple of parables, using them to dazzle the masses....Ifthe
mad proposition that an individual human being is God were possible, then
of course, it would logically follow that one would have to worship this
individual human being—a greater piece of philosophical bestiality cannot
be imagined.”
And now the pragmatic politician chimes in with his comments: “It can-
not be denied that at the present time this person is a power—quite apart,
of course, from his delusion about being God. That is the sort of thing one
simply ignores as a private quirk.... Does he want to fight for the national
cause? Or does he have a communist revolution in mind? Does he want a
republic or a monarchy? Which party will he support, and which will he
oppose?Ordoeshewanttogetonwellwithallpartiesorstandinopposition
to all of them? Get involved with him?—No, that’s the last thing I’d do.”
Many others take the floor to speak a few words at this diabolical sympo-
siumwheretheparticipantssingthepraisesnotofwomanbutoffoolishness.
It is thus entirely proper that the final speaker is a “scoffer”: “An individual
human being, someone exactly like the rest of us, says that he is God: This
is truly a priceless idea from which all of us can of course derive direct
benefit. If this is not benevolence toward humanity, then I don’t know
what benevolence and charity (or charity and benevolence) are....Long
may he live, the maker of such an extraordinary discovery! Tomorrow I
will announce that I, the undersigned, am God....Thisisthemost ludi-
crous thing imaginable; the comic element always resides in the contradic-
tion, and here it is the greatest possible contradiction...:that a human
being exactly like the rest of us, though not nearly as well-dressed as the
average person—a poorly dressed person, then, who is practically... an
inmate of the poorhouse—is God.”
Anti-Climacus is not the Antichrist, but the Antichrist could scarcely
have done better—or worse, if you will—than him at blasphemous satire.
In any event, the point is that the text makes its times contemporary with
the god’s times. And it makes the god contemporary with the text’s times.
Anti-Climacus was not satisfied merely with presenting us with thehaute
bourgeoisieof the streets and alleys of Nazareth circa the year 30. He goes
further,situating hisidiot Godsomewhere inCopenhagen inthe year1848:
“on Amagertorv in the middle of the daily hustle and bustle of a workday.”
And he does so to confront his reader with the following question: “If