HeyJ LII (2011), pp. 1–10 DOI: 10.1111/j.1468-2265.2011.00657.

TELOS AND THE ‘INCOMMENSURABLE GAP’:

ETHICAL SUSPENSIONS IN KIERKEGAARD
AND %I%EK
GEOFFREY DARGAN
University of Oxford

Sren Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling is (in)famous for its analysis of the perplexing
biblical account which describes Abraham’s decision to obey God’s command and sacrifice
his beloved son Isaac.1 Kierkegaard’s pseudonymous author, Johannes de Silentio, suggests
that Abraham’s choice involves a ‘teleological suspension of the ethical’ which cannot be
rationally explained; it is an act of individual faith that displaces universal ethical norms.2
The contemporary Slovenian philosopher and cultural theorist Slavoj %i&ek attempts to
situate this Kierkegaardian insight within his own ethico-political project, even suggesting
that one might justify Lenin’s Communist revolution in similar terms.3 According to
%i&ek, rather than establishing a truly religious ethic, Kierkegaard provides a vital
illustration that enables the development of a truly materialist ethic.
This essay examines the idiosyncratic relationship between Kierkegaard’s teleological
suspension and %i&ek’s re-appropriation of that suspension. Inasmuch as this involves
examining key %i&ekian themes, it provides a cursory introduction to his thought. We will
also consider various theological implications stemming from the two suspensions,
including the ironic prospect that certain elements of %i&ek’s approach may instill a greater
depth of freedom and honesty within Christian theology. We begin, however, with an
overview of %i&ek’s ontology.

%I%EK’S ONTOLOGICAL MATERIALISM

Slavoj %i&ek is responsible for a remarkable philosophical fusion of dialectical materialism,

psychoanalysis, and a vast array of pop culture references from which he draws extensive
analogies. %i&ek’s project, as both he and his commentators note, primarily involves reading
Hegel – indeed, the whole of German Idealism – through a Lacanian lens.4 The French
psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan creatively applied Freudian theory to semiotics. He translated
Freud’s famous tripartite subject (id, ego, superego) into three ontological social constructs: the
Imaginary, the Symbolic, and the Real.5 We must briefly acquaint ourselves with Lacanian
terminology, as it is %i&ek’s primary philosophical vocabulary.
One of Lacan/%i&ek’s key terms, as noted above, is ‘the Real’. The Real is essentially
indefinable, yet invites innumerable descriptions.6 In The Puppet and the Dwarf, %i&ek
offers an instructive articulation: the Real is ‘not the way ‘things really are in themselves
. . .’ but the very gap . . . that separates one perspective from another, the gap that makes
the two perspectives radically incommensurable . . . There is a truth . . . the truth of the
perspectival distortion as such . . .’7
%i&ek is not a dualist; he believes in one material reality. But his is no one-dimensional
physicalism. In his self-described magnum opus, The Parallax View, he asserts: ‘The first

r 2011 The Authors. The Heythrop Journal r 2011 Trustees for Roman Catholic Purposes Registered. Published by Blackwell Publishing Ltd, 9600
Garsington Road, Oxford OX4 2DQ, UK and 350 Main Street, Malden, MA 02148, USA.
2 GEOFFREY DARGAN

critical move is to replace . . . the polarity of opposites with the concept of the inherent
‘tension,’ gap, noncoincidence, of the One itself.’8 Paraphrasing the German philosopher
Friedrich Schelling, %i&ek explains: ‘there is only One, the gap is inherent to this One itself –
not as the gap between its two opposite aspects, but as the gap between One and the Void.’9
This is the sort of rupture %i&ek ascribes to the Real – a gap in the ‘very texture of reality
. . .’10 The Real must not be understood as a harmonious universal principle, but rather as
a ‘fundamental antagonism, a deadlock, a contradiction, an unbearable tension.’11 This
mirrors Lacan’s depiction of reality as ‘non-All’, which does not imply there is some
metaphysical Real outside of the material world; rather, it means that within material
reality itself there is a negative aspect, a nothing which actually tears apart our existing
reality by introducing itself as a negative component.12
For %i&ek, this fundamental self-contradiction is what makes the Real impossible to grasp;
instead, we only see its effects as reality is continually broken down and re-made through
endless iterations of the gap of the Real. This re-structuring particularly affects the conscious
subject: ‘Materialism means that the reality I see is never the ‘whole’ – not because a large part
of it eludes me, but because it contains a stain, a blind spot, which indicates my inclusion in it.’13
Because of the inherent blind spot in the process of subjectivity, no subject is ever truly
self-aware, or transparent to itself. Rather, our continual search for clarity leads each of us
to seek out some meaningful other. The subjective pursuit takes place ad infinitum, due to
the ineffable gap within reality. We are never ourselves. In fact, nothing is ever fully itself;
everything contains an element of the Real that is non-All. This paradox leads the subject
to posit a ‘big Other’, a Lacanian term which describes the ground we establish to keep
ourselves from spiraling into a never-ending cycle of deferred meaning. Instead, we create
a big Other that establishes meaning for us.14
%i&ek’s ambition is to somehow circumvent the big Other(s) that we create, since escaping
the big Other is crucial to maintaining our search for genuine subjectivity. We will never be
truly satisfied with an existence based in fantasy. But, on the other hand, the search will
forever remain incomplete. This leaves us open to the awful risk of spiraling into an abyss of
meaninglessness. The risk is absolutely necessary, however, since it is our connection to the
Real. %i&ek states, ‘That is the difference between idealism and materialism: for the idealist . . .
our situation [is] ‘open’ insofar as we are engaged in it, while the same situation appears
‘closed’ from the standpoint of finality . . . for the materialist, the ‘openness’ goes all the way
down, that is . . . it is the ‘All’ itself which is . . . marked by an irreducible contingency.’15
Consequently, religion – Christianity specifically – becomes a valuable resource for
%i&ek. He suggests that humanity is only able to discover its true subjectivity when God is
removed from the picture: ‘Man’s identity with God is asserted only in/through God’s
radical self-abandonment . . .’16 This radical self-abandonment is most clearly seen in
Jesus’ cry from the cross: ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’17 Because of the
gap it reveals within the nature of God, %i&ek explains, Christianity is a precise example of
the sort of event that subverts the big Other by revealing its emptiness. He views it as a
‘violent gesture’ exposing the big Other’s (in this case, God’s) attempts to maintain its
structure of apparent meaning by covering up its own void.18

APPLYING %I%EK’S ONTOLOGY TO ETHICS

The big Other, because of its apparent finality, becomes a source of ideology. Kotsko is
helpful here: ‘an ideological fantasy is formed through the imposition of a master signifier
 TELOS AND THE ‘INCOMMENSURABLE GAP’ 3

[or big Other], which attempts to ward off the destructive force of the antagonistic Real.’19
In other words, the total subjectivity we desire would destroy us because we would lose
ourselves in the endless search for an always-deferred fullness of meaning. Ideology
prevents that from happening; unfortunately, it also increases our anxiety as subjects, since
we still desire the pure subjectivity concealed in the Real.
Because of its ideological grounding, attempting to unseat a big Other is extremely
problematic. How do we free ourselves from ideology without destroying ourselves in the
process? %i&ek posits a potential solution based in psychoanalytic theory: Lacan suggested, in
his later work, that the most beneficial approach to curing a subject who is psychologically
disturbed is not to heal the symptom (i.e. help them cope with a nervous tic, etc.) but to enable
the subject to follow their symptom through to its end result, arriving at a point where they
can ‘choose’ the symptom, thus curing the patient in a paradoxical sense.20
In spite of the questionable character of such an approach clinically, %i&ek sees in
Lacan’s ‘cure’ a glimpse of how one might overthrow the big Other. By following the logic
of a big Other through to its logical and practical end, one may come to a place where they
realize this Other can’t/doesn’t really exist. Of course, this insight is extremely traumatic,
but it also creates an opportunity for, in Kotsko’s words, ‘a ‘reboot’ of the subject, the
installation of . . . a new stance toward the big Other.’21 As such, the decision to re-orient
oneself toward the overthrown big Other is seen as the only act of complete freedom.
But this new stance can never be a fully conscious act. For %i&ek, ‘our freedom persists only
in a space in between the phenomenal and the noumenal.’22 In other words, our freedom to act
resides in the gap of the Real as well. %i&ek argues that though the Real does not prevent us from
deciding or acting, we have no way to effectively sustain or integrate the Real in our actions. The
Real is ‘impossible’, but it happens.23 This paradox, explains Marcus Pound, involves an
‘absolute commitment in which one risks everything for the unknown, because only where there
is risk, is there passion, and as Kierkegaard says, risk raises the ‘passion as high as possible.’’24
So, %i&ekian freedom is a decision made in the face of the impossible. We can now begin
to see the connection between %i&ek’s gap of the Real and Kierkegaard’s suspension of the
ethical. For Kierkegaard, the decision of faith takes place in the face of the absurd. Of
course, this does not mean that the suspension of the ethical lacks purpose; quite the
opposite. As Edward Mooney points out, ‘the idea that we are already familiar with the
meaning . . . of ethics or faith must be ‘teleologically suspended’ – suspended in the light of
a higher goal.’25 For Kierkegaard, an absolute ethical system is not only ‘an utterly
unattainable goal . . . but more important, it is also deeply undesirable. Its achievement
would scuttle the most precious [feature] of our lives, our standing as passionate,
responsible individuals . . .’26 What ultimately matters, then, is not our ethic, but our telos.
Of course, one could posit that there is no subjectivity – that everything is completely pre-
determined – but for %i&ek (as well as for Kierkegaard) that would be tantamount to saying
that all of our ethical struggles are pointless.27 Theologian Steve Long notes similarly, ‘for ethics
to make sense, it must have some purpose: to transform our human nature into what it should
be. Without such a telos . . . it can only be a soporific appliance.’28 An important question to
ask, then, is: Does %i&ek’s vision of ethical subjectivity incorporate a telos?

THE KIERKEGAARDIAN SUSPENSION

We turn now to Kierkegaard’s teleological suspension of ethics. In Fear and Trembling,

Johannes de Silentio presents the patriarch Abraham as a model of genuine subjectivity. It
4 GEOFFREY DARGAN

is Abraham, as the individual before God, who suspends the ethical and becomes, to use
Kierkegaard’s term, ‘a Knight of Faith.’29 This suspension occurs when Abraham decides
to obey God’s command and sacrifice Isaac. This event has often been interpreted as a sort
of modified ‘divine command’ theory; the ethical good is suspended in light of an even
greater good – obedience to God. But Kierkegaard is careful to point out that Abraham’s
ethical responsibility to Isaac is not suspended by his ethical responsibility to God. Rather,
it is the ethical itself that is suspended.30
Kierkegaard defines ethics as any universal system of moral obligations, including any
system of universal divine commands.31 This insight is key for deciphering the teleological
suspension. For example, Mooney suggests we ‘question the premise that in this crisis
there is an objectively correct response . . . Indeed, if we knew too easily that Abraham’s
choice was ‘correct’, the master theme of ‘Fear and Trembling’ would be undercut . . .’32
Similarly, J. Aaron Simmons notes the particular subjectivity of both God and Isaac vis-à-
vis Abraham. The point is precisely that Abraham cannot make a simple, obvious
decision. If Abraham knew clearly that to obey God was the only logical choice – there
would be no ethical suspension.33 The suspension is an indication that there is a limit to
our rational discernment, ethically speaking.34
Put another way, Abraham’s decision to obey God is not because he has no choice: if he
had no choice, there would be no ethical suspension. It is the situation of an impossible
choice that makes the ethical lose its hold on Abraham. Abraham trusts that God can/will
fulfill the promise, but he does so without an ethical absolute. George Pattison reminds us
that, just as Johannes emphasizes his inability to understand Abraham, the dilemma
created by Kierkegaard remains irresolvable. If any of us were to discover that someone,
upon reading the Adekah, actually went out and did something similar, claiming that God
had commanded it, we would be justifiably horrified.35
This is why the telos of the suspension becomes so vital: Abraham cannot make an
ethical choice. But he can make a teleological choice – in faith – that suspends the ethical.
To quote Mooney: ‘if we do not praise Abraham for what he chooses then it must be for
how he chooses . . .’36 When Kierkegaard states, ‘The paradox of faith has lost the
intermediary, that is, the universal,’37 he is describing a movement that systematizes
neither God nor human ethics into a universal system (faith suspends all universals), but
one that trusts in God nonetheless.
Returning to %i&ek, he asserts that the ethical suspension found in Kierkegaar-
dian Christianity is descriptive of the break from ideology which takes place in one’s
traumatic realization that the big Other does not exist. This decision to face the gap
in reality (and in oneself) creates the possibility of a genuinely new ethical experience,
one that begins outside the confines of the previously needed order created by the big
Other.
%i&ek also recognizes that, for Kierkegaard, ‘the only way to assert one’s commitment
to the unconditional Meaning of Life is to relate . . . our entire existence to the absolute
transcendence of the divine . . . there is no guarantee that our sacrifice will be rewarded . . .
we have to make a leap of faith which, to an external observer, cannot but look like an act
of madness . . .’38 But because %i&ek does not believe in God, this ‘madness’ is the
acceptance of the non-coincidence of material reality, the non-All, the gap: ‘pure Meaning,
Meaning as such . . . can appear only as nonsense. The content of pure Meaning can only
be negative: the Void, the absence of Meaning.’39
%i&ek therefore argues that Kierkegaard steps up to the edge of the void of the Real, but
will not leap; instead, he backs away into a transcendent explanation.40 But does not
 TELOS AND THE ‘INCOMMENSURABLE GAP’ 5

Kierkegaard’s Abraham, rather than backing away to find God, leap into the void, ‘on the
strength of the absurd’, to find God?41 It is important to note here the double movement of
the suspension, something %i&ek rarely mentions. Abraham is prepared to lose everything
(his ethics, his future, and God’s promise) by sacrificing Isaac. But he also believes he will
get Isaac (and, by extension, everything else) back. ‘[I]t takes a paradoxical and humble
courage to grasp the whole temporal realm now by virtue of the absurd, and this is the
courage of faith. By faith Abraham did not renounce Isaac, but by faith Abraham received
Isaac.’42 As Pound describes it, ‘the giving . . . is also the moment of receiving back . . . The
two moments – giving and receiving – thereby constitute a double movement, each
occurring at the same time . . .’43
Thus, Abraham has a telos, made manifest in the absurd hope that in faith God will do
the impossible and return Isaac to him. This is not the sort of thing one can systematize:
‘should Abraham’s receiving Isaac by a marvel be able to prove that Abraham was justified
in relating himself as the single individual to the universal? If Abraham actually had
sacrificed Isaac, would he therefore have been less justified?’44 It is not for us to decide,
based upon an outcome that makes sense to us, whether another has truly made the double
movement of faith. It is simply for us to consider the possibility that such an absurd reality
may be.

THE %I%EKIAN SUSPENSION

‘The knight of faith . . .’ states Mooney, ‘does not believe that he can get around the
impossible. But neither does he believe that what is impossible for him is impossible for
God.’45 This is what de Silentio cannot understand, and initially it seems %i&ek may be in
that camp as well: a knight of resignation, unable to make the leap into faith.46 On the
other hand, perhaps %i&ek sees no need for faith precisely because his thought contains no
telos.
Recall that, for %i&ek, incommensurability ‘goes all the way down.’ In other words,
there is no final purpose to our existence – only the open abyss of the Real. This radical
contingency is the space where an impossible return might take place, inasmuch as the gap
provides the possibility of the subject’s new orientation toward the big Other. But it also
means our actions are entirely subject to the chaos of the gap. We might discover that we
have suspended the ethical and entered into a new paradigm; we might discover that we
have unleashed something monstrous. %i&ek, it would seem, cannot complete the
teleological suspension of the ethical precisely because he lacks a telos.
%i&ek, for his part, attempts to develop Kierkegaard’s category of infinite resignation as
an articulation of ‘a purely negative gesture of meaningless sacrifice.’47 %i&ek, says Kotsko,
‘proposes that one should carry through ‘infinite resignation’ to its logical extreme: after
giving up all determinate meaning, one should sacrifice the very idea of meaning itself,
sacrifice the very notion of any outside guarantee.’48 %i&ek’s typical example of this
sacrifice is Julia in the novel Brideshead Revisited who, because of a promise to God, gives
up her one true love and takes on a life that will thereafter consist of meaningless affairs.
The reason these affairs are not ethically repugnant for Julia is that the sacrifice she has
made is so great as to render all other ethical decisions irrelevant.49
But is this really a Kierkegaardian suspension? Kierkegaard’s desire (as %i&ek seems to
recognize50) was not to obliterate ethics, since without ethics there could be no suspension
of the ethical. Peter Paik notes that ‘Kierkegaard was not making the case to abandon the
6 GEOFFREY DARGAN

ethical altogether but rather underscoring the ultimate antagonism that obtains between
this sphere and that of the religious, a point of supreme dissonance in which the ‘man of
faith’ takes on the public appearance of ‘a murderer.’’51
%i&ek’s other primary examples from literature and film – the escaped slave Sethe in
Toni Morrison’s novel Beloved (who kills her daughter rather than seeing her forced back
into slavery), and Keyser Soze in The Usual Suspects (who kills his family rather than
seeing them undergo torture and death at the hands of his enemies), are, again, not facing
teleological suspensions per se, since they are not being forced to choose between two
universal ethical options; they are choosing what might be better termed the lesser of two
evils. %i&ek’s examples, although challenging, lack the tension present when both choices
are entirely ethical, yet utterly conflicting.52
More provocatively, %i&ek also suggests that Lenin’s revolutionary stance was, in fact,
Kierkegaardian: ‘When . . . Lenin emphasizes that a . . . revolutionary acknowledges no a
priori set of moral rules independent of the revolutionary struggle . . . he is . . . proposing
the revolutionary version of what Kierkegaard referred to as the religious suspension of
the ethical.’53 Here, %i&ek transfers the kind of radical break implied in the teleological
suspension to the political realm. Paik notes that, for %i&ek, ‘nothing less than such a
drastic abandonment of all that one holds dear in the world could ever release the subject
from the fetters ‘of existing social reality’ and free him or her for properly revolutionary
activity . . .’54 One wonders: Is %i&ek now attempting to supply a telos? Or, as he appeals to
Melville’s Bartleby (continuing to articulate the gap of the Real), is %i&ek actually taking a
step backward into the aesthetic realm?55
There is an additional concern regarding %i&ek’s appropriation of the teleological
suspension for politics. Quoting Paik, ‘one cannot help but note the basic neutrality of the
Kierkegaardian act of renunciation with respect to politics, the fact that it appears to lack
any kind of distinct political direction.’56 In other words, is the suspension meant to be an
individual act, rather than a political one? Paik concludes that the parallel breaks down: ‘it
is difficult to say with any kind of exactitude what sort of political order would emerge out
of an aggregate of the Kierkegaardian knights of faith . . . on the slight chance that so
many of them would happen to be thrown together in a group.’57
%i&ek might respond that the suspension he advocates is an individual act with political
implications. Yet, this does not remove the necessity of a telos. Without it, any appeal to a
suspension of the ethical, even one with political implications, appears to ring hollow.
Recently, %i&ek has suggested that Kierkegaard’s vision of paradox is best expressed as
‘breathtakingly traumatic’, given the inherent anxiety and strife that defines our human
existence.58 But his proposed solution, ‘an ethics without morality’,59 ends up apparently
making oneself one’s own telos: ‘Morality is concerned with the symmetry of my relations
to other humans . . . ethics, on the contrary, deals with my consistency with myself, my
fidelity to my own desire.’60
Not only does %i&ek still seem undecided regarding whether he has a telos or not, he now
has to deal with the additional question of how anyone, given the fact of the gap of the
Real, can be expected to maintain self-consistency or self-fidelity. After all, he maintains
there is an inherent blind spot within subjectivity. Kierkegaard has already described the
situation of Abraham as one which offers no possibility of internal consistency, other than
faith, which is the source of a telos. Without that option, it remains difficult to understand
how %i&ek’s ethics without morality does not break apart against the incommensurable
gap which he inscribes not only within the world but within each person. This appears to
be a serious dilemma in %i&ek’s attempt to refigure the suspension of the ethical.
 TELOS AND THE ‘INCOMMENSURABLE GAP’ 7

RE-APPROPRIATING %I%EK

In spite of these potential difficulties, I want to suggest that %i&ek’s neo-Kierkegaardian

rendering of ethical suspension has something to offer to theology. First, however, note
that theology actually provides what %i&ek’s ethico-political project apparently lacks: a
proper telos. In Christianity, for example, this is fulfilled in the eschaton.61 The question
remains whether %i&ek’s insights may be applied to collective religious activity as well as to
individual faith. In any case, I offer here, in conclusion, a few theological reflections.
%i&ek states, ‘We are never safely within the Religious, doubt forever remains . . . in a
parallax split which can never be abolished . . .’62 Kierkegaard recognized this as well,
precisely because God’s actions are not guaranteed by any human system. The decision of
faith is always tied to epistemological and existential risk – it is a choice that can never be
rationally resolved in the present. While it may seem safer not to risk, it is necessary – if we
are to truly experience the movement to the realm of faith. Perhaps %i&ek ought to be read
as a reminder of our need to accept epistemological and ethical limitations, rather than
attempting to systematically and unconditionally resolve them.
It also seems clear that religion can easily become ideology. Here, %i&ek is a helpful critic
– his thought has the potential to shine a light on the various ideologies we create under the
guise of genuine religious belief. If the big Other is, for example, a universally accepted
‘Christian’ ethic, %i&ek asks us to seriously examine that ethic, in order to uncover the
inherent gaps – gaps which believers often work very hard to cover up, so as not to disturb
the system. %i&ek’s approach offers a corrective to seductive ideologies of epistemological
certainty regarding various aspects of God’s nature and existence, which stem not from
faith, but from Enlightenment principles of pure rationality and autonomy.
At no time will the suspension of the ethical be intelligible to those outside the realm of
faith. As %i&ek rightly notes, ‘The Kierkegaardian believer is alone not in the sense of an
individual’s isolation, but alone in his total exposure to the traumatic impact of the divine
Thing.’63 Abraham hears a call from God to sacrifice his son, Isaac, and must choose: Will
he follow the ethical law that says ‘do not murder’ or will he respond in faith and obey,
even though he will be committing an ethical crime?64 Of course, we know how Abraham’s
story ends (the provision of the ram), but the point is precisely that Abraham doesn’t
know. %i&ek reminds us that, religiously speaking, we are all in the same position as
Abraham: we act based upon our beliefs as to how our story will end, but we don’t actually
know the end of the story.65
This brings us to a further application of %i&ek’s interpretation: it encourages us to respond
to ethical dilemmas set forth in established doctrine, not by automatically giving preference to
a universal which brushes aside as ‘unethical’ those who fall outside its boundaries, but by
asking whether or not this or that particular individual might be suspending the ethical for the
sake of faith. Granted, this approach is more precarious than establishing a set of guidelines
and expecting all believers to follow those guidelines (or face punishment); however, from a
Kierkegaardian – and %i&ekian – perspective, it is also more honest.
The major obstacle to such an approach is, of course, the potential for ethical chaos. As
Mooney notes, ‘One might assume that something called a ‘teleological suspension of
ethics’ would justify or permit any crime, if only one believed and obeyed God. But in
Kierkegaard’s account, the knight of faith is no unthinking zealot or fanatic.’66 This begs
the question of how we distinguish an act of faith from an act of fanaticism. Does %i&ek
offer any guidelines we can employ in distinguishing between a true ‘act of faith’ which
suspends the ethical, and misguided, unethical acts?
8 GEOFFREY DARGAN

In spite of %i&ek’s own rhetoric, which seems at times to favor violence for the sake of
the Real,67 I suggest he does, in his assessment of those who commit horrific acts of evil in
the name of religion – for example, radical suicide bombers. Are these acts of faith? No.
The suicide bomber, he argues, acts in unbelief, rather than faith.68 Why? %i&ek indicates
that a true believer is one who has become so compelled by their faith that they feel no need
to prove it to anyone. Therefore, they are not threatened by those who believe differently.
An act of unbelief masquerading as faith is directly related to an epistemological certainty
that refuses self-examination.69 First and foremost, if a subject rejects self-examination,
their actions ought to be called into question.
For Kierkegaard, the ethical is the set of universal principles that apply to all people
until they make the movement of faith, at which point their individual relationship with the
absolute supersedes the universal ethic.70 This means any act of religion that attempts to
coerce someone into belief actually undermines true faith. Religious violence or oppression
ought to be resisted as acts of faith, because they do not express the individual self-
reflection that is the hallmark of faith, but instead involve the overpowering of another for
the sake of a new perceived universal.
Additionally, the ethical suspension was never intended to remove an individual from
their community. True, no one can understand the individual and his/her act of faith. But
we are all still subjects within a particular setting and must act within that setting. Might a
religious community be able to act within an ethical suspension, creating the possibility of
genuine faith? Applying %i&ek’s terminology of the ‘cure,’ I propose – with fear and
trembling – that each religious community should follow its basic tenets through to their
logical and practical end. This is a very complicated and risky endeavor, of course. We may
find that our ethic is nothing more than a big Other that doesn’t really exist. We may
become Knights of Faith. In this regard, is it not the case that Western Christianity, much
like Leninist Communism, has failed to follow its own precepts and has become content to
exist primarily as an ideology?71

Notes

1. Genesis 22:1–14.
2. Sren Kierkegaard, Fear & Trembling/Repetition (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1983), p 56.
3. Slavoj %i&ek, On Belief (New York: Routledge, 2001), p. 148ff.
4. Marcus Pound, %i&ek: A Very Critical Introduction (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2008), p. 27.
5. Pound, p. 10.
6. Adam Kotsko, %i&ek and Theology (New York: T&T Clark, 2008), p. 33. Kotsko’s book is an excellent
introduction for anyone wishing to gain a deeper knowledge of both %i&ek’s general themes and his attraction to
Christianity.
7. Slavoj %i&ek, The Puppet and the Dwarf (Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2003), p. 79.
8. Slavoj %i&ek, The Parallax View (Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2006), p. 7.
9. %i&ek, Parallax, p. 36. Similarly, as %i&ek reads Hegel, he radicalizes the latter’s ‘negation of negation’; in other
words, the dialectical process endlessly furthers the gap within reality.
10. %i&ek, Parallax, p. 27.
11. Kotsko, p. 33.
12. Kotsko, p. 9.
13. %i&ek, Parallax, p. 17.
14. Kotsko, p. 56. A further term %i&ek employs to describe this development is the semiotic expression ‘master
signifier.’ Within a chain of language, each word is a signifier that points beyond itself to another word. But to avoid an
infinite regress, there are master signifiers – words that refer only to themselves, and not to anything else. (Kotsko, p.
29.) As a result of their tautological nature, these master signifiers are ultimately meaningless, but they ‘provide the
illusion of a fullness of meaning that gives all other signifiers something to ‘crystallize’ or ‘quilt’ around. The sure sign
of a master signifier, therefore, is that any attempt at explanation ends in a tautology.’ (Kotsko, p. 30.) %i&ek’s favorite
 TELOS AND THE ‘INCOMMENSURABLE GAP’ 9

example is Marx’s ‘commodity fetishism’, in which an essentially worthless piece of paper money becomes a universal
equivalent for the exchange of any and all commodities. This self-referential signifier contains its own value, having
been given meaning it doesn’t actually contain within itself.
15. %i&ek, Parallax, p. 79.
16. %i&ek, Belief, p. 146.
17. Matthew 27:46
18. %i&ek, Belief, p. 146.
19. Kotsko, p. 39.
20. Kotsko, p. 67.
21. Ibid.
22. %i&ek, Parallax, p. 23. Following Bernard Williams, %i&ek locates an inaccessible feature of our actions, namely,
certain foreknowledge of their results. This inaccessibility means there is a disconnect between what we believe we must
do, and what we actually ought to do. (%i&ek, Parallax, p. 47.) The ethical is thus always context-dependent. One
cannot ground ethics in an absolute, because every absolute (for example, the biblical Law) is re-interpreted countless
times as new knowledge of the ethical is drawn from previously unavailable information.
23. Slavoj %i&ek, Conversations with %i&ek (Cambridge: Polity Press, 2004), p. 71.
24. Pound, p. 13.
25. Edward Mooney, Knights of Faith and Resignation (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1991), p. 13.
26. Mooney, p. 23.
27. Kotsko, p. 119. (cf. %i&ek, Parallax, p. 168.) Kotsko asserts that ‘Within %i&ek’s scheme, where every theory of
subjectivity implies an ethics, one would lose a lot’ if one were to deny the reality of subjectivity.
28. D. Stephen Long, The Goodness of God (Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos Press, 2001), p. 106.
29. Kierkegaard, p. 46.
30. Kierkegaard, p. 70–71.
31. Kierkegaard, p. 54.
32. Mooney, p. 65.
33. J.Aaron Simmons, ‘What About Isaac? Rereading Fear and Trembling and Rethinking Kierkegaardian Ethics’,
Journal of Religious Ethics 35: 2 (2007), p. 319–345 (here p. 340).
34. Kierkegaard reacts strongly against Hegel’s ‘system’, which employs an ethic that is universal in scope. Yet, there
are some who perceive that Kierkegaard defines ethics in Hegelian terms, and then chooses to abandon Hegelian ethics
for the sake of the divine command of God. Simmons argues that this conflates Kierkegaard’s definition of ethics with
Hegel’s, and is a mistake that must be resolved by revising our theory of divine command. Simmons points to two
problems with the aforementioned argument: 1) if Kierkegaardian ethics is defined as God’s will, then there really is no
suspension; Kierkegaard merely replaces the incorrect ethic with the correct one; 2) the perceived teleological
suspension is self-defeating, because the telos of Abraham seems to be a type of universal, inasmuch as it contains its
own normativity. In other words, if there is a ‘higher purpose’ toward which Abraham is led, Kierkegaard’s ethical
subjectivity, which is the core of his argument, is actually replaced with a Hegelian universal, the very thing
Kierkegaard opposes. (Simmons, p. 325–328)
35. George Pattison, The Philosophy of Kierkegaard (Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press,
2005), p. 109.
36. Mooney, p. 85.
37. Kierkegaard, p. 71.
38. %i&ek, Parallax, p. 80.
39. %i&ek, Parallax, p. 85. ‘Kierkegaard’s theology,’ %i&ek claims, ‘presents the extreme point of idealism: he admits
the radical openness and contingency of the entire field of reality, which is why the closed Whole can appear only as a
radical Beyond, in the guise of a totally transcendent God . . .’ (The Parallax View, p. 79.) But %i&ek seems content to
downplay the absolute centrality for Kierkegaard of the God-man, Jesus Christ, as the paradoxical subject by which we
relate to God. (See especially Kierkegaard’s Practice In Christianity.)
40. %i&ek, Parallax, p. 86.
41. Kierkegaard, p. 46.
42. Kierkegaard, p. 49.
43. Pound, p. 35.
44. Kierkegaard, p. 63.
45. Mooney, p. 55.
46. Mooney distinguishes between ‘proprietary claim’ and ‘selfless concern’. (Mooney, p. 53) The knight of
resignation renounces his or her claim, makes the ‘meaningless sacrifice’ %i&ek describes below, but the price paid for
this renunciation is a distance from the object one has renounced. Mooney calls this a ‘lack of care.’ (Ibid) However,
there is a type of love or concern that renounces rights, without renouncing care. This is how the knight of faith can give
up the temporal/finite while still expecting it back; though the knight is ‘renouncing all claims on the finite [he or she] is
not renouncing all care for it.’ (Mooney, p. 54)
47. %i&ek, Parallax, p. 75.
48. Kotsko, p. 122.
49. %i&ek, Parallax, p. 74.
10 GEOFFREY DARGAN

50. Slavoj %i&ek, The Ticklish Subject (New York: Verso, 2000), p. 321. %i&ek actually seems to propose a reading
here that differs from his more recent description of ‘meaningless sacrifice’ in The Parallax View. He correctly deduces
that Abraham’s choice is not between duty to God and duty to humanity, but between two divine duties – in other
words, the choice is not that of one ethic over another, but between two claims that have equal ethical value, and thus
must be suspended. So he should recognize the weaknesses of his examples. Incidentally, this also offers a potential
rebuttal to the criticism that %i&ek simply replaces one ethical system with another.
51. Peter Paik, ‘The Pessimist Rearmed: %i&ek on Christianity and Revolution’, Twenty-First Century Papers: On-
line Working Papers from the Center for 21st Century Studies, University of Wisconsin – Milwaukee Vol. 1, No. 3
(Sept. 2004), p. 7. (http://www4.uwm.edu/21st/pdfs/workingpapers/paik.pdf) Accessed on October 11, 2010.
52. Paik, pp. 7–8. In The Puppet and the Dwarf, %i&ek even tries to account for Judas’ betrayal of Jesus in
Kierkegaardian terms: ‘The temporary betrayal is the only way to eternity – or, as Kierkegaard put it apropos of
Abraham, when he is ordered to slaughter Isaac, his predicament ‘is an ordeal such that, please note, the ethical is the
temptation’.’ (%i&ek, Puppet, p. 19) But here, again, %i&ek assumes too much – Judas’ situation is not the same as
Abraham’s. The Scripture makes no claim that God commands Judas to betray Jesus. Rather, it seems that Judas was
actually attempting to uphold the ethical, as he betrayed Jesus for the sake of the existing religious system.
53. %i&ek, Belief, p. 149.
54. Paik, p. 7. Paik is referring to page 154 of %i&ek’s The Fragile Absolute.
55. %i&ek, Parallax, pp. 381–385. John Caputo provides the impetus for this statement. In How To Read
Kierkegaard, Caputo says, ‘The aesthete refuses to play the game of choice at all, except in the sense that he chooses not
to choose. Like Bartleby the Scrivener in Herman Melville’s short story, his one preference is that he would prefer not
to.’ [John D. Caputo, How To Read Kierkegaard (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 2008), p. 38.] %i&ek, for
his part, finds Bartleby’s response to be ethically ‘proper’ inasmuch as it provides a sort of rebuttal to the ethics of the
Big Other. So, in this sense, it might be possible to conclude that %i&ek has actually moved from the ethical to the
aesthetic, which would actually be a step backward, according to Kierkegaard.
56. Paik, p. 9.
57. Paik, p. 17.
58. Slavoj %i&ek, The Monstrosity of Christ (Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2009), p. 253.
59. %i&ek, Monstrosity, p. 300.
60. %i&ek, Monstrosity, p. 300–301.
61. We ought to keep in mind, of course, that teleology and eschatology need not be seen as synonymous, as
Simmons and Kerr have recently pointed out. [J.Aaron Simmons and Nathan Kerr, ‘From Necessity to Hope: A
Continental Perspective on Eschatology Without Telos’, The Heythrop Journal Vol. 50, Issue 6 (Nov. 2009), p. 948–
965.]
62. %i&ek, Parallax, p. 105.
63. %i&ek, Parallax, p. 117. This may be why Kierkegaard uses the example of Abraham – his dilemma is not likely to
be resolved by future ethical discoveries. It will only be resolved through its telos.
64. Some scholars, like Dorothee Söelle, have attempted to short-circuit Kierkegaard’s entire argument by pointing
out that Abraham lived in a polytheistic setting where child sacrifice would have not been uncommon, thus inferring
that God’s command did not actually create an ethical suspension at all. But this assumes too much: There is no
indication in the story that Abraham ever approved of child sacrifice, or that he would have expected God to command
such a thing. It may very well be that part of the suspension stems precisely from the apparent fact that Abraham now
genuinely has a reason not to trust God. God’s very nature – as understood by Abraham – is in jeopardy if the sacrifice
takes place, for God has already promised that Abraham’s line would continue through Isaac (Genesis 17:21). If Isaac
is killed, that promise is broken, unless God raises him from the dead.
65. Of course, there is always the option to follow %i&ek (and Bartleby) and ‘choose not to choose’, but for genuine
religious belief, at least in Kierkegaardian terms, that seems illegitimate.
66. Mooney, p. 82.
67. %i&ek, Monstrosity, p. 301–303.
68. See, for example, %i&ek’s online lecture, ‘The Ignorance of Chicken, or Who Believes What Today?’ (http://
criticalinquiry.uchicago.edu/lectures/Zizek.shtml) Accessed on October 11, 2010. %i&ek asserts that today’s
fundamentalists don’t really believe, because they ground their assumptions about God in propositions that serve as
facts on the same level as scientific facts; therefore, they know, they don’t believe. This is a problem for the teleological
suspension – if someone knows, then they don’t have to suspend an ethical, because they are already fully aware of a
greater ethical guideline, namely, their direct knowledge of what God requires. But, as Kierkegaard and %i&ek both
point out, there is no way to know whether the command given by God is, in fact, right or wrong, precisely because it is
given as a proscription outside of our rational capacities. Therefore, we have to either believe one thing (the ethical) or
the other (God’s command). But this belief is not knowledge, in a rational sense. Therefore, it cannot be that religious
fundamentalists are ‘true’ believers, because they have given up belief under the guise of having truly objective
knowledge (grounded in a presupposition that cannot be doubted).
69. Slavoj %i&ek, On Violence (New York: Picador, 2008), p. 81ff.
70. Kierkegaard, p. 60. It is worth remembering again that an ethical suspension is not equivalent to an ethical
abolition.
71. See Kierkegaard’s Attack Upon Christendom for a similar idea. We might say that Christendom was a ‘big Other’
from Kierkegaard’s point of view.