The Incel Philosopher

Enter the mind of the most interesting antisemitic, homophobic, misogynistic, gay jew: Otto Weininger.

Aristotle said, “no great genius has there been without some madness.” Nowhere is this more true than in the case of the fin de siècle Austrian thinker Otto Weininger. He is surely one of the most neglected figures in 20th century thought — and for good reason. He is gay homophobe, an antisemitic jew, a misogynist and a sad pathetic person. But he is also one of the most interesting and innovative thinkers of his time, influencing everyone from Ludwig Wittgenstein to James Joyce.

At the tender age of 23 Weininger published his dissertation, Sex and Character, wherein he tried to answer “the woman question.” In it he argues that all people are comprised of male and female substances, that jews and women have no souls and that the supreme duty of man is to become a genius. The misogyny, anti-semitism and some of Weininger’s crankier views are regrettable, but his overarching vision, his novel ideas, his psychological insights — all these constellate something tremendously interesting, even profound.

After its publication he went to Beethoven’s house and promptly shot himself. He enjoyed brief posthumous fame but nowadays is only talked about as a nutcase who somehow impressed Wittgenstein, as Hitler’s favourite jew, and as an inspiration for lonely young men trolling the depths of incelwiki.org. But all these narratives fail to explain why he was such a phenomenon — that is, they fail to engage with his work, which although challenging and perhaps unsettling, is nevertheless worth reading.

Even with all its faults (and there are many), Sex and Character is an incredibly rich and rewarding book. Weininger put everything he had into it: his ideas, his style, his prejudices, his mystical vision of the cosmos. It not so much about ‘the woman question’ as it is about Weininger himself and all his various interests.

All of this is a great gorgeous mess: Weininger’s moves according to the rhythms of his own mind, following his intuition, and although it makes for an interesting read, the actual system that underlies his thought is difficult to decipher. Weininger has a habit of asserting conclusions instead of arguing for them — only to then give an explanation two chapters later. One feels that he sat down and blasted these chapters out very quickly, using mostly his own memory and notes he had beside him as his guide. The ideas are there but they come towards us in their inchoate state. The diamonds of philosophical thought are mixed in with the magma of all that Weininger contained within himself: the scientific, the literary, the biological, the psychological, and even the eschatological. While reading him one understands exactly what Nietzsche meant when he said that all philosophical works are an unconscious autobiography, because at the end we don’t get a cogent system of thought: we get Weininger himself — his inspired poetic flights, his insights, his prejudices, and his genius. We are confronted with a thoroughly original mind, and the value gained from engaging with said mind is not any kind of system but rather the experience of being confronted with something so richly textured and beguiling.

He comes to us as a nexus bridging neo-Kantian thought, descriptive psychology and hermeticism. But behind all that he expresses the same fundamental truths that so entranced Pythagoras, Plato and the later Neoplatonists. There is mysticism here, certainly. Weininger is a great admirer of Giordano Bruno, Plotinus and even cites the Upanishads approvingly. This spiritual and esoteric element cannot be separated from his work, and explains why many 20th century esotericist’s like Julius Evola admired him.

To many contemporary readers talk of this kind is meaningless babble. But that is precisely why Weininger is such a fecundating thinker: although he comes to many conclusions that seem to be mystical cliches, he does so from first principles, often deducing his conclusions analytically from his concepts. There is nothing obscure or opaque in Weininger’s thought. The expression of it might be imprecise, but the ideas themselves, the conceptions, are brilliantly conceived.

Reading Weinigner is not for the faint of heart. He has many problematic opinions — many fatuous ones as well — but Sex and Character comes to us like an uncut gem caked in shit. There is something there, something supremely interesting: the theory of the genius — but not any genius. Weininger’s genius is really the original Pythagorean philosopher reincarnated in the 20th century and dressed in Neo-Kantian clothes, which makes Weininger part of the golden chain of mystical philosophers that stretches from Pythagoras through the Neo-platonists and whose scattered links are found in Vedantic, Buddhist and other Esoteric circles. The true genius is the monad, the centre of the universe, the meaning of existence, and his universal memory, multiplicity and clarity of thought allow him to access the transcendent plane of being and contemplate ineffable conceptions that lie beyond time. His ultimate purpose is to fully realize this higher, uniquely human dimension within himself and identify with it, shedding his purely empirical, time-bound consciousness and transcending to something that lies beyond the human condition itself, to the unconditioned state. He is the jewel in the crown of the cosmos: the centre of the universe and the meaning of life.

When I write it like that I sound about as crazy as Weininger. But seriously, its fascinating stuff.

All of this is rather prolix, and Weininger’s whole vision could actually be summed up in this beautiful sentence: “a man is himself important precisely in proportion that all things seem important to him.”

To grasp the full meaning of that quote is to understand the essence of Weinigner’s thought and to find that kernel of wisdom hidden in the slum of his magnificent madness. Behind all the crazy ideas, behind the sexism, antisemitism and all other other -isms, there is a simple idea: be awake. To most of us the idea of being conscious, of being merely aware is a platitude, something dim and undefined; but through reading Weininger and making our way through his abrasive thoughts that idea is cut and polished like a precious stone, and in the end it takes on a diamond-like clarity, becomes lively, radiant — even enlightening.