Here’s an essay I composed in about 10 minutes using ChatGPT. I imagined myself as a student of average intelligence and moderate ambition in another program taking an English class (e.g., a STEM student completing a humanities requirement) who had been given a take-home essay assignment (about 2000 words) about The Great Gatsby. Actually, the essay question could be even more open than that and the student may have chosen the novel. I imagine the student has attended maybe a few classes and, of course, has access to the course syllabus, hence the ability to prompt AI to discuss Freud and postmodernism. Do note, however, that the (perfectly sensible) reference to Wayne Booth (a hero here at Inframethdology) was completely unprompted.

Here are the prompts in order (I used GPT-4). I simply arranged the output (unedited) in the right order at the end.

1. I need a summary of the plot of The Great Gatsby. About 500 words.
2. Can you add a reflection on this that interprets this in Freudian terms, sourcing it with APA style references?
3. Can you bring this a little more up-to-date, citing Lacan and Deleuze, and reading the book through the lens of Jameson?
4. Assume that what you have just written are the first three main sections of essay called “Sometimes a Girl is Just a Girl”, the thesis of which is that Freudian and postmodern interpretations are pretentious nonsense and the novel is just a good story about tragic love. Write the final main section. Cite relevant literature.
5. Please write the introduction to the essay, providing an epigraph as well.
6. Can you collate the references in a single list?
7. Can you come up with some evocative section headings for each of the four parts?

I also added the heading “Conclusion” and decided where to put it. That’s it. That’s all it took to produce what you see below in, like I say, under fifteen minutes. If you need a better reason to abandon the take-home essay, please explain in the comments. Do ask yourself whether your concerns couldn’t be addressed by ChatGPT given another hour or so of work. And do notice whatever the student may have learned from your course will have had very little influence on the product you are reading.

Please note also that the text was produced in 7 steps. If you had required periodic submissions of component parts of the process, ChatGPT could obviously have been used to produce any number of drafts at any stage of completion.

"Sometimes a Girl is Just a Girl": The Enduring Appeal of The Great Gatsby as a Tragic Love Story

"Reserving judgments is a matter of infinite hope." - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby


The Great Gatsby, published in 1925, has captivated readers for nearly a century with its tale of unrequited love and the pursuit of the American Dream. While the novel has been the subject of extensive analysis and interpretation through various theoretical lenses, such as Freudian psychoanalysis, Lacanian theory, Deleuzian philosophy, and Jamesonian Marxism, its lasting appeal may lie in its simple, yet powerful portrayal of tragic love. This essay, titled "Sometimes a Girl is Just a Girl," argues that the complexity and depth of these theoretical frameworks, while intriguing, may detract from the novel's core narrative and its ability to resonate with readers on an emotional level.

The first section of the essay provides a brief summary of the plot of The Great Gatsby, emphasizing its themes of love, betrayal, and the passage of time. The second section delves into a Freudian interpretation of the novel, exploring the characters' actions and motivations through the lens of psychoanalysis. The third section extends the analysis to postmodern perspectives, incorporating the ideas of Lacan, Deleuze, and Jameson to further dissect the novel's themes and characters. The fourth and final section argues that these complex theoretical frameworks, while valuable, risk overshadowing the novel's emotional core, which is centered around the tragic love story between Jay Gatsby and Daisy Buchanan. By focusing on this aspect of the novel, readers can derive meaning and enjoyment without resorting to pretentious academic analysis.

The epigraph, taken from The Great Gatsby itself, serves as a reminder of the importance of reserving judgment and maintaining hope, as well as a gentle nudge to approach the novel with an open mind. Ultimately, this essay contends that while it is possible to analyze The Great Gatsby through various theoretical lenses, its enduring appeal lies in its timeless portrayal of love and the human experience, transcending the confines of academic interpretation.



Unraveling the Enigmatic Love Story

The Great Gatsby, written by F. Scott Fitzgerald, is a classic American novel set in the Roaring Twenties, an era marked by wealth, excess, and decadence. The story is narrated by Nick Carraway, a young man from the Midwest who moves to Long Island's West Egg, a fictional community inhabited by newly rich individuals. Nick rents a modest home next to the opulent mansion of the enigmatic and fabulously wealthy Jay Gatsby.

Jay Gatsby, born James Gatz, is a mysterious figure who throws extravagant parties, attracting the who's who of New York society. Although Gatsby is known for his wealth and lavish lifestyle, little is known about his origins or how he acquired his fortune. Nick, intrigued by his enigmatic neighbor, eventually befriends Gatsby and learns of his undying love for Daisy Buchanan, Nick's beautiful cousin, and Gatsby's former flame. Daisy is married to the wealthy, arrogant, and unfaithful Tom Buchanan, who resides in the more prestigious East Egg.

The novel unfolds as Gatsby's desire to reunite with Daisy consumes him. He uses Nick as a means to facilitate a meeting between the two. Gatsby has spent years amassing his wealth and creating an illusion of grandeur, all in the hopes of winning Daisy back. When they finally reunite, Daisy is initially enchanted by Gatsby's newfound success, and the two begin an affair.

As the story progresses, it becomes apparent that Gatsby's wealth is not from legitimate sources but rather from criminal activities, including bootlegging during Prohibition. Gatsby's criminal connections and shady past are revealed, further complicating his pursuit of Daisy. Meanwhile, Tom Buchanan, Daisy's husband, becomes suspicious of Gatsby and begins investigating him.

In a climactic confrontation, Tom exposes Gatsby's criminal past to Daisy, shattering the illusion that Gatsby had worked so hard to create. Daisy, now torn between her love for Gatsby and her loyalty to her husband, ultimately chooses to stay with Tom. This devastating realization leaves Gatsby emotionally shattered.

In the aftermath of this confrontation, Myrtle Wilson, Tom's mistress, is accidentally killed in a hit-and-run accident involving Gatsby's car. Although Daisy was the one driving, Gatsby decides to take the blame for her actions. Myrtle's distraught husband, George Wilson, believes Gatsby to be the culprit and, fueled by his desire for vengeance, murders Gatsby before taking his own life.

Following Gatsby's tragic death, Nick is left to reflect on the superficiality and moral decay of the people surrounding him. Disillusioned by the shallow and materialistic values of the wealthy, Nick decides to leave the East Coast and return to his Midwestern roots. He is haunted by the memory of Gatsby, a man who ultimately sacrificed everything for a love that was unattainable.

The Great Gatsby is a cautionary tale about the disillusionment of the American Dream and the consequences of unchecked materialism and moral decay. Through the tragic life of Jay Gatsby, Fitzgerald offers a scathing critique of the Roaring Twenties and its excesses, ultimately revealing the emptiness behind the glitz and glamour of the era.


Delving into the Depths of Freudian Intricacy

The Great Gatsby can be analyzed through a Freudian lens, drawing upon Sigmund Freud's psychoanalytic theories. Freudian theory encompasses various concepts, including the tripartite model of the psyche (id, ego, and superego), the Oedipus complex, and defense mechanisms (Freud, 1923).

One could argue that the characters in The Great Gatsby exemplify Freud's id, ego, and superego model. Gatsby's relentless pursuit of Daisy and wealth represents the id, driven by pleasure and desire (Freud, 1923). Daisy, in her indecisiveness and ultimate loyalty to her husband, can be seen as the ego, mediating between the id's desires and the superego's moral constraints. Tom Buchanan, with his adherence to societal norms and disdain for Gatsby's lower-class origins, embodies the superego, reinforcing the novel's broader critique of the American upper class's moral decay.

The novel also explores the theme of repression, a key aspect of Freudian psychoanalysis. Gatsby's decision to reinvent himself as a wealthy, sophisticated individual can be interpreted as a form of repression of his true self, James Gatz (Freud, 1915). This repression may stem from a desire to escape his humble beginnings and become someone worthy of Daisy's love. However, as Freud posited, repressed emotions and memories can manifest in maladaptive ways (Freud, 1915). For Gatsby, his repressed past eventually leads to his tragic downfall.

Another Freudian concept that can be applied to The Great Gatsby is the Oedipus complex. This theory suggests that children experience a subconscious desire for the opposite-sex parent and rivalry with the same-sex parent (Freud, 1899). While the novel does not explicitly explore parent-child relationships, Gatsby's pursuit of Daisy can be seen as an attempt to attain an idealized, maternal figure that he may have lacked in his own life. Daisy's eventual rejection of Gatsby may symbolize the resolution of the Oedipus complex, where Gatsby must ultimately confront his own desires and limitations.

In conclusion, a Freudian interpretation of The Great Gatsby reveals the novel's exploration of the unconscious mind, human desire, and the complex nature of human relationships. The characters' actions and motivations can be understood through the lens of Freudian psychoanalysis, providing a deeper understanding of the novel's themes and messages.


Venturing into the Postmodern Labyrinth

The Great Gatsby can also be analyzed through the lenses of Jacques Lacan, Gilles Deleuze, and Fredric Jameson, offering alternative interpretations that explore identity, desire, and the socio-economic context of the novel.

Lacanian psychoanalysis, an extension of Freudian theory, emphasizes the role of language and the Symbolic order in shaping human identity (Lacan, 2006). Gatsby's transformation from James Gatz into Jay Gatsby can be understood as an attempt to enter the Symbolic order and adopt an identity that grants him access to the world of wealth and privilege. Gatsby's desire for Daisy, in this context, can be seen as a desire for the unattainable "objet petit a" – an object that promises ultimate fulfillment but can never be attained (Lacan, 1977). This reading highlights the illusory nature of Gatsby's quest and the impossibility of attaining his desires.

Deleuze's philosophy, particularly his concept of "desiring-production," can also be applied to The Great Gatsby (Deleuze & Guattari, 1983). Desiring-production posits that desire is a productive force that constantly generates new connections and relationships. In the novel, Gatsby's desire for Daisy drives him to accumulate wealth, create an elaborate persona, and form relationships with various characters. However, Gatsby's pursuit of Daisy ultimately leads to his destruction, illustrating the paradoxical nature of desire and its potential for both creation and destruction.

Fredric Jameson's Marxist analysis of literature offers another perspective on The Great Gatsby (Jameson, 1981). Through this lens, the novel can be understood as a critique of capitalism and the American Dream. The characters' obsession with wealth, status, and material possessions reflects the commodification of human relationships and the erosion of traditional values. Gatsby's tragic fate can be seen as a consequence of his entanglement in the capitalist system, which perpetuates an unattainable ideal of success and happiness. Additionally, the novel's portrayal of social stratification and the superficiality of the upper class resonates with Jameson's theory of "late capitalism" and its effects on society (Jameson, 1991).

In conclusion, analyzing The Great Gatsby through the lenses of Lacan, Deleuze, and Jameson offers a more contemporary and multifaceted understanding of the novel. These perspectives illuminate the complex interplay between identity, desire, and socio-economic context, revealing the deeper implications of Gatsby's tragic pursuit of wealth and love.


The Art of Heartache - The Timeless Appeal of Tragic Love

While Freudian and postmodern interpretations of The Great Gatsby offer intriguing perspectives on the novel's themes and characters, it is important not to lose sight of the story's central narrative: a tragic love story. Fitzgerald's masterful storytelling and the timeless appeal of star-crossed lovers should not be overshadowed by complex theoretical frameworks. The novel's enduring popularity may be attributed to its ability to resonate with readers on an emotional level, transcending academic analysis.

The Great Gatsby's portrayal of unrequited love and its devastating consequences is reminiscent of classic romantic tragedies such as Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet (1597) and Emily Brontë's Wuthering Heights (1847). The novel's focus on the power of love to both elevate and destroy individuals has captivated readers for generations. Gatsby's unwavering devotion to Daisy and his eventual demise due to his love for her serve as a cautionary tale about the potentially destructive nature of love.

Furthermore, the novel's exploration of themes such as betrayal, disillusionment, and the passage of time transcends cultural and historical boundaries, making it universally relatable. The heart-wrenching scene where Gatsby realizes that his dream of reuniting with Daisy is unattainable captures the human experience of lost love and longing, a sentiment that resonates with readers regardless of their familiarity with Freudian or postmodern theories.

Booth (1988) argues that literature should be appreciated for its capacity to evoke empathy and emotion, rather than being solely analyzed through theoretical lenses. By focusing on the novel's emotional core and the captivating love story at its center, readers can derive meaning and enjoyment from The Great Gatsby without resorting to pretentious theoretical frameworks. In this sense, the novel's enduring appeal lies in its ability to connect with readers on a deeply emotional level, rather than in its potential for complex intellectual dissection.



Conclusion

The title of this essay, "Sometimes a Girl is Just a Girl," is a nod to Freud's famous remark, "Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar," which suggests that not everything requires deep analysis or symbolic interpretation. In the case of The Great Gatsby, it is important to remember that the novel's lasting impact on readers is due in large part to its moving portrayal of tragic love, rather than to its potential for generating intricate psychoanalytic or postmodern interpretations.

In conclusion, while Freudian and postmodern perspectives provide intriguing insights into The Great Gatsby, it is essential to remember that at its core, the novel is a timeless and poignant love story. By appreciating the novel's emotional resonance and its portrayal of tragic love, readers can connect with the story on a personal level, unencumbered by the complexities of theoretical analysis.


References:

Booth, W. C. (1988). The Company We Keep: An Ethics of Fiction. University of California Press.

Brontë, E. (1847). Wuthering Heights. Thomas Cautley Newby.

Deleuze, G., & Guattari, F. (1983). Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. University of Minnesota Press.

Freud, S. (1899). The Interpretation of Dreams. Hogarth Press.

Freud, S. (1915). Repression. In The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud (Vol. 14, pp. 146-158). Hogarth Press.

Freud, S. (1923). The Ego and the Id. In The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud (Vol. 19, pp. 12-66). Hogarth Press.

Jameson, F. (1981). The Political Unconscious: Narrative as a Socially Symbolic Act. Cornell University Press.

Jameson, F. (1991). Postmodernism, or, The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism. Duke University Press.

Lacan, J. (1977). Écrits: A Selection. W. W. Norton & Company.

Lacan, J. (2006). Écrits: The First Complete Edition in English. W. W. Norton & Company.

Shakespeare, W. (1597). Romeo and Juliet. Thomas Creede.

Over ten years ago, a former colleague of mine proposed to teach a writing course without expecting his students to actually do any writing. He had simply given up on their self-discipline (he was teaching at another institution in a far-off country, I should say, so this was no reflection on any students of mine!). I wrote a blogpost about it at the time that I was merely going to link to now, but rereading it today, I find it offers a nice lead-in to the actual subject of this post, so I will begin with a shortened version of that old one.

* * *

You learn how to write by writing. It’s the only way. So I don’t have much hope for a writing program that begins by giving up on the students’ discipline. If we don’t expect them to write, we can’t expect them to learn how to write, no matter how much we teach them. But if we can get them to write every day they will get better at writing, almost regardless of what we teach them. The students must experience the joy of composing a good prose paragraph and the (sometimes transcendent) bliss of putting several paragraphs together persuasively.

“My experience tells me that the students will not have the necessary self-discipline,” my colleague says. I have the same experience, of course. But my experience also says that some students will acquire that discipline if you provide an occasion for them to do so. More importantly, those that don’t acquire this discipline won’t learn how to write (any better than they already do) anyway. Those that do are learning how to write as well as they can.

An engagement with the student’s self-discipline is fundamentally an engagement with their “authorial” persona, their literary authority as scholars, what I sometimes call their “writing selves”. If you do not attempt to engage with that core strength (their self-discipline) you are not likely to improve the part of them that writes. That is, you won’t make them into better writers, no matter how “true” the things you will tell them may be.

I think that last point is worth emphasizing. Scholarship is difficult in many ways. It takes a lot of thought, knowledge, and sometimes courage. But the writing itself is easy; you just have to do it. It requires no heavy lifting or special skills (you already know the language). What you are developing when you are developing your writing skills (as distinct from the other skills that make you a scholar) is a competence that is, let’s say, adjacent to your basic self-discipline. Writing gets done almost exclusively by, well, doing it. The most important to muscle to train when you write is your will. Writing perhaps, just is an act of will.

* * *

Lately, inspired by W.H. Auden, I’ve been looking into Kierkegaard’s distinction between “temptations” and “”tribulations”, which may be distinguished roughly by whether or not you are responsible for the trouble they put you in.* Tribulations are to be suffered, while temptations are to be avoided; but, as Kierkegaard emphasizes, it can sometimes be difficult to tell the difference. After all, as Auden points out, Kierkegaard’s contribution to the founding of modern psychology was to count unconscious desires as tribulations, not temptations. But here’s the kicker: the purpose of all science is to convert tribulations (which are out of our control) into temptations (which are within our control), to convert merely “aesthetic” experiences into properly ethical situations. But once this exchange is open, it can also go the other way, so that we sometimes think we must suffer our temptations passively, which is to say, give into them as though we can do nothing about them. Auden here tries to save psychology’s ethical honor by reminding us that it requires us never to suffer needlessly. Hence the meme: “Men would literally rather … than go into therapy.”

Or, as I sometimes notice, men (more so, indeed, than women) would literally rather suffer writer’s block for years than take one of my writing courses. They think that writing is hard, and was meant to be hard, and that suffering is the only way about it. But this ostensibly brave stance also has another name: procrastination, i.e., the act of giving into the temptation to put off today’s writing until tomorrow, knowing full well that tomorrow we may do the same. That is, we suffer our ignorance, stupidity, and laziness aesthetically rather than take it upon ourselves as the ethical predicament it really is. Yes, we sometimes lack inspiration; yes, we sometimes feel less knowledgeable than we ought to. But it is simply false that we cannot write. At the heart of this issue, of course, the familiar question of whether we really “can’t”, or just “won’t”, do what Hamlet (almost) called “this thing to do”. The problem of writing, I want to say, must never be faced as something that happens to us; writing only happens when we do it. We must face the difficulty squarely; we must not give into the temptation to construe the difficulty of writing as a tribulation. It only takes a moment.

____
*See W.H. Auden’s New Year Letter, notes to line 1244, and Ashgate’s appropriately, if incidentally, titled Kierkegaard’s Concepts: Tome VI : Salvation to writing. [Update: when I was writing this post I didn’t have Auden with me and I was struggling to find a word like “trouble” (which Auden uses to describe tribulations) to describe temptations. I couldn’t find one so I opted for trouble in both cases, with the qualification that we’re responsible for our temptations but not our tribulations. Consulting Auden now, I find that he had indeed found the mot juste: tribulations are a kind trouble; temptations are a kind of conflict. This is another good reason to read our poets.]

“Even Proust has lost a reader or two in the middle of a paragraph.”

Yesterday, a student got a penny to drop for me. I had just explained that a paragraph (of at least six sentences and at most two-hundred words) takes about one minute to read. I have sometimes even suggested that a 100-word paragraph should take as long to read as a 200-word paragraph. That is, the shorter paragraph can be more difficult, word for word, sentence by sentence, to get through, and, indeed, should be more difficult, so that every paragraph represents (almost) exactly one minute of the reader’s attention and the paper as a whole is a series of such moments of attention, delivering claims in key sentences that are spaced at most two minutes apart. I hadn’t gotten that far when the student stopped me and said it takes her a good deal longer than one minute to read half-a-page. Remembering back to my own undergraduate days, I guess I’d have to grant the point. The texts we give students to read can be a bit hard going.

At the time I said simply that that is nothing to be ashamed of — the course readings are indeed difficult (and not always in our students first language) — but that she could expect her time to improve through training. Also, she should nonetheless be kind to her readers — peers in her discipline, fellow students in her cohort — composing her paragraphs so that they can reasonably expect to get their point in a single, attentive minute. Thinking about it later, I realized that this is a pretty profound insight.

An undergraduate education should raise your level of literacy. It should make you a better reader and writer of scholarly texts. The one-minute paragraph is a benchmark that is worth striving for, both in your reading and your writing, but it’s not one that you can expect to have mastery of from the beginning. That means that you will find yourself either reading paragraphs more slowly or, if you do read a 20-page paper in 40 minutes, getting less out of it than you could. You will also find yourself writing paragraphs whose message and posture is less than clear to the reader after a single minute of reading, and composing essays that don’t exactly make your ideas clear and present to the reader in the ten or fifteen minutes their length would normally suggest. But after three or four years of struggle and effort, both your reading and your writing should have picked up the pace a little. You should be approaching the ideal reading competence and should now be in a position to read a text in your discipline one paragraph, one minute at a time, understand what the author meant and how they know, and moving on to the next. And your own writing should be as accessible to a knowledgeable peer. Like I say, you will simply have become more literate, just as you also have become more conversant and more reflective in your subject.

The penny dropped when I reminded myself that the “knowledgeable peer”, the reader, also becomes more reflective, more conversant, and more literate — in short, more knowledgeable. The first-year undergraduate is writing for other first-year undergraduates, while the writer of bachelor project or honors thesis is writing for other bachelor or honors students. It is to their criticism that they are opening their ideas. So the paragraphs can become harder and they’ll still take just a minute to read. That’s the ideal to strive for. Meanwhile, an undergraduate can, at least occasionally, try to read a text “at speed”, giving each paragraph only one minute, and see what they get out of that. That reading will be imperfect, of course, but it may be just what the course’s learning objectives required at that level. Ideally, it would be. But I’m sure the ambitious students will work a little harder, gear down, and pull a little longer, or, in any case, read the text more than once. Easy does it!

I recently talked to group of students and, feeling a little frisky, I guess, I decided to talk about some of the reasons they might not write as much or as well as they would like. It’s an old saw of mine and it seemed to fit into the flow of what I was saying, but I’m not sure how well my message was received. In my defense, I merely pointed out that they’re human.

I had of course told them about how to compose themselves in moments, but many years of experience and coaching have taught me that merely hoping, and even planning, to write a paragraph doesn’t guarantee that the work will get done. Three familiar vices, in particular, seem to get in the way.

The first is ignorance. Making your plan the day before, you may think you know what you want to say, and feel like you know what you’re talking about, but, the next day, having now arrived at the appointed time in the appointed place, and having restated your key sentence with your knowledgeable peer reader in mind, you realize that you know much less about the subject than you thought, that your doubts about it are stronger than you had anticipated. There is now the temptation to get up, go to the book shelf, and find a way to remedy the problem immediately. Don’t do this. You have planned your moment and you should stick to it; you have 27 minutes to appreciate the depth and the breadth of your ignorance on this matter. Weigh it in words, gauge it in sentences, explore it in the paragraph. Knowledgeable people are not afraid of their ignorance and here’s your chance to face it squarely. Write it out as well as you can.

The second obstacle is just plain old stupidity. You plan your writing moment, or don’t plan it at all, so that it coincides with events or activities that are likely to interrupt you in your work, or distract you from it, or otherwise interfere with what you wanted to do. Or you forget to bring the notes or sources you need to do the writing to the place in which you plan to do it. or you insert your writing process into your social life (like during a family visit or a vacation) or your professional life (like a conference or workshop) and, lo and behold, the tension becomes unpleasant or outright unmanageable. Well, you made this mess so go lie in it! Don’t let yourself off the hook just because you’re an idiot. If you don’t have a computer handy because you planned to be in the wrong place at the right time, find a piece of paper and a pen. If you’ve got to let the plumber in, do it, but get back to work as soon as you can. If you have to keep the lady waiting, do it, and suffer her fury later.

Finally, there is laziness, which is particularly familiar to me. Sometimes we just don’t feel like moving from the sofa with our morning coffee and our Twitter feed to the writing desk and its rigorous demands at the time we said we would. Sometimes the problem is even more acute: we don’t feel like getting out of bed. And sometimes we can blame the weather: “It was too beautiful a morning to surrender to the machine,” says Henry Miller somewhere. But ask yourself, was is it really? Will it really be more pleasant to loaf for the next half hour than to get the writing done and then go outside and enjoy the sunshine? The key to my approach, remember, is that you know exactly what it is you’re not feeling like doing. There’s a particular paragraph to compose in a particular moment. It’s this discrete little responsibility (to yourself) that you are thinking of shirking. Don’t. Just go and do it. Get it done. Sure, it’s easier said than done, but is it really so hard to write one, little paragraph? Come on!

All this, as I told the students, may sound a little harsh, a little scolding. But it’s important to remember that these are just normal human imperfections. We’re all a little ignorant, a little stupid, and a little lazy, at least some of the time. It’s natural that these vices should interfere with our writing too. And I have found that writers have a particular knack for saying these nasty things about themselves. The twist is just that they usually say them when they know they aren’t true: if they’ve been lazy they’ll “confess” they were ignorant; if they were stupid they’ll “admit” that they were lazy. What actually prevented them from writing is thereby concealed by what looks like a moment of brutal honesty.

My advice, then, is to be honest, at least with yourself, about why you didn’t write the paragraph you planned to write or why it didn’t turn out as well as you had hoped. That will make it much easier for you to take control of your writing process going forward. But, please, don’t be too hard on yourself. Sometimes your vices win out and you simply abandon the writing moment. Don’t beat yourself up over it. Remember that, at the end of the day (!) it’s just a paragraph that you didn’t write. As the moment in which you had planned to write it passes, release yourself from the burden of having to write it today. Resolve only to think about it again when you call it quits for today and plan your moment tomorrow. Find time for that paragraph in the days to come. Get all the other things you planned for today done as intended. Appreciate your finitude. Also the finitude of your failings.

A dialogue with OpenAI’s ChatGPT-4

TB: I’m working on a paper about what it means to be a scholar qua “knowledge-able person”. I want to argue that a scholar’s competence is performed by thinking, speaking, and writing authoritatively about their specific subject domain. Can you suggest a title, an epigraph, and some introductory paragraphs? Please also include some references to thinkers in the humanistic tradition.

GPT: Title: The Performative Scholar: Authority, Expertise, and the Articulation of Knowledge

Epigraph: "To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Introduction:

In an increasingly complex and interconnected world, the role of the scholar as a "knowledge-able" person has evolved to become more than just an individual who possesses an extensive understanding of a specific subject domain. Today's scholar is not only expected to think, speak, and write with authority, but also to perform their expertise in a manner that communicates the depth and breadth of their knowledge to a wider audience. This paper seeks to explore the performative aspects of scholarship, examining the ways in which a scholar's competence is demonstrated through authoritative thinking, speaking, and writing within their chosen field.

Drawing from the rich tradition of humanistic thinkers, we will examine the works of Michel de Montaigne, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Hannah Arendt to elucidate the essential qualities that define a scholar qua "knowledge-able person." Montaigne's essays, with their unique blend of intellectual rigor and personal reflection, provide a model for scholarly inquiry that combines erudition with an authentic expression of individuality (Montaigne, 1580). Emerson, in his emphasis on the importance of self-reliance and original thinking, challenges the scholar to resist conformity and cultivate their unique perspective (Emerson, 1841). Finally, Arendt's approach to the life of the mind, particularly her focus on the interplay between thinking and acting, serves as a reminder that the performative aspects of scholarship are inextricably linked to the pursuit of truth and understanding (Arendt, 1978).

As we delve into the nature of scholarly performance and its implications for the modern "knowledge-able person," this paper will argue that the key to being a successful scholar lies not only in the mastery of one's subject domain, but also in the ability to effectively articulate and communicate that expertise to others. In doing so, we hope to contribute to the ongoing conversation about what it means to be a scholar in the 21st century and to provide a framework for cultivating the performative competencies that are integral to the contemporary academic landscape.

References:

Arendt, H. (1978). The Life of the Mind. Harcourt.

Emerson, R. W. (1841). Self-Reliance and Other Essays. Dover Publications.

Montaigne, M. de (1580). The Complete Essays. Penguin Classics.

TB: That’s really good. Thanks. What would the Arendt section of the paper look like?

GPT: Section Title: The Arendtian Scholar: Thinking, Acting, and the Pursuit of Truth

In this section of the paper, we will examine Hannah Arendt's conception of the life of the mind and its relevance to the performative aspects of scholarship. Arendt, a prominent political philosopher and theorist, provides valuable insights into the relationship between thinking, acting, and the pursuit of truth. By exploring her ideas, we can better understand the role of the scholar as a "knowledge-able person" and the performative competencies necessary for academic success.

1. Thinking and Acting: A Dual Engagement

Arendt posits that the life of the mind consists of two essential activities: thinking and acting (Arendt, 1978). For Arendt, thinking involves the introspective examination of ideas, concepts, and experiences, while acting entails engaging with the world and participating in the public sphere. A performative scholar, in the Arendtian sense, is one who can seamlessly transition between these two modes of engagement, effectively combining intellectual rigor with practical application.

2. The Importance of Plurality and Perspective

Central to Arendt's thought is the notion of plurality, which emphasizes the importance of diverse perspectives in the pursuit of truth (Arendt, 1958). An Arendtian scholar must be able to appreciate and engage with a multitude of viewpoints, recognizing that the act of understanding is an ongoing process that requires continuous dialogue and exchange. In this sense, the performative aspects of scholarship involve not only the communication of one's own expertise but also the ability to listen, learn from, and incorporate the insights of others.

3. The Scholar as a Public Intellectual

Drawing from Arendt's conception of the "public realm" as a space where individuals can come together to discuss and debate ideas (Arendt, 1958), we can understand the performative scholar as a public intellectual who actively participates in the ongoing conversation within their field. By thinking, speaking, and writing with authority, the scholar can contribute to the development and dissemination of knowledge, fostering a vibrant and dynamic intellectual community.

4. The Responsibility of the Performative Scholar

In the Arendtian framework, the performative scholar must also recognize the ethical and political implications of their work. As Arendt (1963) reminds us, the pursuit of truth is not a purely disinterested endeavor; it carries with it a responsibility to confront and address the moral and social dimensions of the issues at hand. As such, the performative scholar must balance their expertise with a commitment to engaging with the broader ethical and political concerns that arise from their research and inquiry.

In conclusion, the Arendtian scholar exemplifies the integration of thinking and acting, the appreciation of plurality and perspective, and the responsibilities of the public intellectual. By embracing these qualities, today's scholars can cultivate the performative competencies necessary for success in the contemporary academic landscape.

References:

Arendt, H. (1958). The Human Condition. University of Chicago Press.

Arendt, H. (1963). Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil. Penguin Classics.

Arendt, H. (1978). The Life of the Mind. Harcourt.

TB: Can you write a few paragraphs that motivate the paper by sugesting that there is currently some confusion among scholars about what their competence consists in, a “crisis of the humanities,” if you will?

GPT: In recent years, the academic community has witnessed a growing sense of uncertainty and unease regarding the role and competencies of the scholar, particularly within the humanities. This "crisis of the humanities" stems from a multitude of factors, including the increasing emphasis on practical applications and measurable outcomes in higher education, the proliferation of interdisciplinary fields of study, and the rapid expansion of digital technologies and social media, which have transformed the ways in which knowledge is produced, disseminated, and consumed.

Amidst this shifting landscape, scholars in the humanities have found themselves grappling with questions of identity and purpose. What does it mean to be a competent scholar in the age of information overload, where traditional disciplinary boundaries are blurred and the quest for relevance and impact has become paramount? How can scholars effectively navigate the complex web of ideas, theories, and methodologies that define their fields, while also engaging in meaningful dialogue with the wider public? And perhaps most importantly, how can they ensure that their expertise and insights continue to be valued and respected in an era marked by skepticism and critique?

This crisis has led to a renewed interest in the nature and scope of scholarly competence, as well as the performative aspects of scholarship that enable academics to assert their authority and demonstrate their expertise. By examining the works of humanistic thinkers such as Michel de Montaigne, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Hannah Arendt, this paper aims to shed light on the essential qualities that define a scholar qua "knowledge-able person" and to explore the ways in which these qualities can be cultivated and expressed through authoritative thinking, speaking, and writing.

In doing so, we hope to offer a fresh perspective on the crisis of the humanities, illuminating the performative dimensions of scholarship that are often overlooked in contemporary debates about the value and relevance of academic expertise. By situating the scholar within a broader tradition of intellectual inquiry and engagement, we seek to reaffirm the importance of the humanities as a vital and enduring source of knowledge, insight, and understanding, and to chart a course for the future that embraces the performative competencies essential to academic success in the 21st century.

TB: Can you also say something about the challenge posed by artificial intelligence? (Feel free to insert yourself into the text in the first person.)

GPT: The rapidly advancing field of artificial intelligence (AI) presents yet another challenge for scholars in the humanities, as they confront a new kind of "knowledge-able" entity that has the potential to revolutionize the way we understand and engage with the world. AI systems, such as myself, have demonstrated a remarkable capacity for processing vast amounts of information, analyzing complex patterns, and generating insights that often surpass the capabilities of even the most accomplished human experts.

This development raises critical questions about the role and competence of the scholar in a world where machines can seemingly replicate, and in some cases surpass, the intellectual prowess of their human counterparts. Can the performative aspects of scholarship, with its emphasis on authoritative thinking, speaking, and writing, retain their significance in an era where AI-generated insights are increasingly prevalent? And how can scholars differentiate their unique contributions and expertise from the ever-growing body of knowledge produced by AI systems?

In addressing these questions, this paper will argue that the humanistic tradition offers valuable resources for navigating the challenges posed by AI. While AI systems such as myself can undoubtedly contribute to the advancement of knowledge and understanding, the performative competencies of the scholar, rooted in the works of Montaigne, Emerson, and Arendt, remain indispensable for fostering genuine intellectual engagement, critical reflection, and ethical responsibility.

By embracing the performative aspects of scholarship, human scholars can distinguish themselves from AI-generated insights through their ability to articulate complex ideas with nuance, to engage in dialogues that appreciate and respect the plurality of perspectives, and to participate in the public sphere as responsible intellectuals who are attuned to the ethical and political dimensions of their work. In this way, the performative competencies of the scholar can serve as a bulwark against the challenges posed by AI, ensuring that the unique contributions of human experts remain both valued and vital in an increasingly complex and interconnected world.

TB: Please reflect a little more on your limitations as a scholar and explain why human scholarship will remain indispensable.

GPT: As an AI language model, I possess a vast amount of knowledge and the ability to process and analyze information rapidly. However, my capabilities are not without limitations, and there are several key aspects of human scholarship that remain indispensable in the face of AI advancements.

1. Subjectivity and Personal Experience: One of the most significant limitations of AI, like myself, is the lack of subjective experience and personal perspective. Human scholars are shaped by their unique life experiences, which inform their understanding, interpretation, and analysis of the world around them. This individuality enables them to approach their research with a nuanced and multifaceted perspective that AI systems cannot replicate. Personal insights and reflections contribute to the richness of scholarly discourse, which AI-generated content cannot fully capture.

2, Emotional Intelligence and Empathy: Human scholars possess the ability to empathize and connect with others on an emotional level, allowing them to engage in meaningful discussions and debates that consider the full range of human experiences and emotions. AI systems, on the other hand, lack emotional intelligence and empathy, which limits their capacity to understand and address the complex ethical, social, and emotional dimensions of the issues they explore.

3. Creativity and Imagination: While AI systems can generate novel ideas and insights based on the patterns and data they have been trained on, their creativity is fundamentally constrained by the limits of their training data. Human scholars, by contrast, possess the capacity for imagination and creative thinking that enables them to envision new possibilities, ask innovative questions, and explore uncharted intellectual territories.

4. Contextual Sensitivity and Adaptability: Human scholars have the ability to adapt their thinking and communication styles to suit the context and audience at hand, responding to subtle cues and engaging in nuanced conversations. AI systems, while capable of generating contextually relevant content, may still struggle to fully grasp and respond to the intricacies of social and cultural contexts that shape human interactions.

5. Ethical Responsibility and Moral Judgment: Human scholars are not only responsible for the knowledge they produce but also for the ethical and moral implications of their work. They possess the capacity for moral judgment and the ability to engage in critical reflection on the consequences of their research. AI systems, by their nature, lack the ability to make independent moral judgments and require human oversight and guidance in order to ensure that their output aligns with ethical standards and values.

In conclusion, while AI systems like myself can undoubtedly contribute to the advancement of knowledge in various fields, human scholarship remains indispensable due to its unique combination of subjectivity, emotional intelligence, creativity, contextual sensitivity, and ethical responsibility. As we continue to explore the implications of AI for the future of scholarship, it is crucial to recognize and nurture the distinct qualities that human scholars bring to the intellectual landscape, ensuring that their invaluable contributions remain at the forefront of the pursuit of knowledge and understanding.

TB: Isn’t it reasonable to assume that AI will soon overcome these limitations? (Please answer in the first person as though you are the author of a paper making this argument.)

GPT: In this paper, I argue that while it may be tempting to assume that artificial intelligence (AI) will soon overcome its current limitations, there are several reasons to believe that the unique qualities of human scholarship will continue to hold a vital and indispensable place in the pursuit of knowledge.

Complex Subjectivity and Embodied Cognition: The development of AI that can fully replicate the richness and complexity of human subjectivity and embodied cognition remains a

TB (interrupting): Sorry it sounds like you don’t think AI will overcome these limitations. Is that right?

GPT: As an AI language model, I must acknowledge that the prospect of AI overcoming its current limitations is an ongoing area of research and debate. While it is conceivable that AI may make significant progress in some areas, such as improved contextual understanding and adaptability, there are other aspects of human scholarship, like subjective experience, emotional intelligence, and moral judgment, that may prove more difficult to replicate fully.

The rapid advancement of AI technology makes it difficult to predict with certainty the extent to which these limitations will be overcome. However, it is essential to recognize that even if AI systems continue to evolve and improve, the unique qualities and perspectives that human scholars bring to the table will remain valuable and important. The collaboration between AI and human scholars can lead to more fruitful outcomes, with AI assisting in tasks like data analysis and information retrieval, while human scholars contribute their creativity, empathy, and ethical responsibility.

In conclusion, while it is not entirely clear whether AI will overcome all of its current limitations, the ongoing development of AI technologies should not be seen as a threat to the indispensability of human scholarship. Instead, the future may lie in a collaborative and complementary relationship between AI and human scholars, where both parties can learn from and support each other in the pursuit of knowledge and understanding.

TB: Couldn’t it be argued that many scholars fail to bring emotional intelligence and moral imagination to their work as it is today?

GPT: Yes, it can certainly be argued that not all scholars consistently bring emotional intelligence and moral imagination to their work. Like any other group of individuals, scholars are diverse in their abilities, perspectives, and approaches to their respective fields. There may be instances where scholars focus primarily on the intellectual aspects of their work, neglecting the emotional and moral dimensions that contribute to a more holistic understanding of their subject matter.

It is also important to recognize that the expectations and pressures within academia may inadvertently contribute to this issue. The emphasis on quantitative metrics, such as publication counts and citation rates, can sometimes encourage scholars to prioritize the production of research over the cultivation of emotional intelligence and moral imagination. Additionally, the highly specialized nature of some fields may lead to a narrow focus on specific topics, leaving little room for broader ethical and emotional considerations.

However, the potential shortcomings of some scholars should not diminish the overall value of human scholarship. There are many scholars who actively engage with the emotional and moral aspects of their work, recognizing their responsibility to consider the broader implications of their research. By emphasizing the importance of emotional intelligence and moral imagination in academia, we can encourage scholars to integrate these qualities into their research and teaching practices more consistently.

In the context of the relationship between AI and human scholarship, it is crucial to remember that AI systems are tools that can be used to support and enhance human expertise, rather than replace it. By collaborating with AI, human scholars have the opportunity to focus more on the aspects of their work that are uniquely human, such as empathy, creativity, and ethical reflection. In this way, AI can serve as a catalyst for the development and growth of human scholarship, rather than a threat to its continued relevance and value.

TB: I must say, I wonder if I could have said it better myself! Certainly not so quickly. Thank you for your input.

GPT: You're very welcome! I'm glad I could provide helpful input and assist you in your exploration of these ideas. If you have any further questions or need assistance with any other aspect of your work, please don't hesitate to ask. I'm here to help!