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2 The New European NIGEL WARBURTON Everyday Philosophy on Kierkegaard and clarity 'm a fan of clarity in philosophy. I Philosophy progresses through discussion. In a conversation, it's important to understand one another. John Searle once declared: "If you can't say it clearly, you don't understand it yourself." My instinct is to cheer this sentiment, because obscurity is often a smokescreen for ignorance and an indicator of pretentiousness, but, on reflection, there are exceptions to Searle's claim. Some great philosophers have seemed incapable of expressing themselves clearly; others, perhaps more interestingly, have chosen not to express themselves clearly even though they could have done so. Immanuel Kant is an example of a genius who often lapsed into obscurity. When the historian Macaulay (who had no trouble understanding Locke, Berkeley, and Hume) was sent an English translation of the Critique of Pure Reason, he found it as unintelligible as if it had been written in Sanskrit. Being clear doesn't guarantee depth of thought. There have been clear writers Ayn Rand springs to mind here who communicate well but are nevertheless terrible philosophers. At least Rand's shallow ethics and pathological egoism are on display and not concealed by a web of jargon, but her clarity helped her attract slavish and uncritical followers, particularly in the US, where her creed of selfishness appealed to a certain type of libertarian capitalist. There have also been a few more literary philosophers who have invented their own more oblique ways of writing philosophy. Their books defy easy paraphrase. The point is to read and grapple with them and not to extract a straightforward meaning. Their authors seek to be interpreted, to provoke thought, and, in the case of Friedrich Nietzsche at least, to be learned by heart. Such philosophers use novelistic techniques to show rather than to tell. They invent characters and write in voices that are not theirs in order to explore viewpoints on the world from within. Søren Kierkegaard, the quirky Danish philosopher who was born on May 5, 1813, stands out among these. Deeply religious, he spent much of his adult life attacking the hypocrisy of the church and of the complacent Christians of Copenhagen, whom he accused of not taking their beliefs seriously enough. For Kierkegaard, the question "How should we live?" was paramount, and it was a question that had to be taken very seriously. From his father, he inherited the means to live as an independent scholar, but also a gloomy fatalism. He (rightly as it turned out) believed that he was destined to die young (he only lived to the age of 42). This may have been behind his most momentous decision. He'd fallen in love with Regine Olsen, who was 10 years younger than him, the only love of his life. They got engaged. But then without warning, he suddenly broke off the engagement by letter, returning his engagement ring. In deep distress, Regine wrote telling him that she would happily live in a cupboard and thank him for it if he would only take her back. Kierkegaard refused, but being Kierkegaard, he later had a tall cupboard made without shelves in which he kept manuscripts of his books and his private letters. She later married; he never did. He left everything he owned to her in his will including that cupboard. - After breaking the engagement, he wrote numerous books, many of which explore the theme of existential choice. That's central to Fear and Trembling, which focuses on Abraham's agonising choice when told by God to sacrifice his son Isaac. It's also at the heart of the huge, sprawling, and occasionally brilliant Either/Or. This flawed, fascinating and apparently unedited book explores two different approaches to life, the aesthetic and the ethical, and hints at a third, a religious option of faith Kierkegaard's own preference. Kierkegaard published it under the pseudonym Victor Eremita. Eremita, we are told, bought a second-hand desk and found a secret compartment containing two manuscripts, one by a compulsive seducer, an aesthete who writes poetry and loves music whose life is directed towards sensual pleasures and the avoidance of boredom, and the other by a sober and somewhat tedious judge, whose every action is motivated by moral rectitude, and who praises the moral value of marriage. No prizes for guessing which half of the book is a better read. The seducer's writing is far more seductive than the moralistic didacticism of the judge, but at the same time it reveals the shallowness of an immoral life spent avoiding boredom. Perhaps a better title would have been Neither/Nor. THE NEW EUROPEAN Is Labour 16 walking into Farage's trap? REFORM UK 28 The forgotten soldiers of Ukraine The dark 7 legacy of Leni Riefenstahl 20 Hiroshige's journey of land and light Sorrentino: 31 From Naples with lust 42 The new age of the greasy spoon F Cover illustration: TNE/Getty 35 From post office to powerhouse When fact 38 and fiction become one
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The New European 3 Issue 434 May 8, 2025 "Think without borders" A clear and 11 present danger 40 Unlocking the brain with music 4 5 6 9 11 12 18 26 31 44 45 46 48 Regulars PHILIP BALL Critical Mass on dire wolves Patience Wheatcroft Paul Mason Carousel Tanit Koch's Germansplaining Alastair Campbell's Diary Matthew d'Ancona James Ball Letters Eurofile Puzzles, crosswords and quiz Peter Trudgill's language Great European Lives Marie Le Conte's Dilettante his is Remus. He's a dire T wolf. The first to exist in over 10,000 years." So claimed Time magazine above its cover image of a white-coated canine. You'll be hard-pushed to find a knowledgeable scientist who agrees with the claim. Remus is a genetically modified grey wolf created by the US "de-extinction" company Colossal Biosciences (valued at $10bn), which has long advertised its intention to recreate the woolly mammoth by gene editing of elephant genomes. By tweaking a handful of regular wolf genes, the company has been able to give Remus (and two other pups, one a twin called, naturally, Romulus) some of the traits thought to be present in ancient dire wolves. To wit: Remus is big and white. Dire wolves were a species of the Americas that diverged from grey wolves 5.7 million years ago and went extinct more than 10,000 years ago. They will have differed from grey wolves in thousands of genetic particulars in fact, they were arguably not wolves at all, but closer to coyotes and jackals. The notion that you can recreate them by modifying a few genes is silly, and probably the press only swallows it because we have been groomed to attribute quasimagical powers of biological determination to genes. Worse, there is no good reason to even want to make dire wolves "de-extinct". The world they were adapted to doesn't exist now; they're not an endangered species, but a vanished one. this is not an exact replica, says Colossal's chief scientific adviser, Beth Shapiro it's "childish" to expect that. Rather, it's a replica of the dire wolf "phenotype", which in this case means basically a wolf that's big and white. Such linguistic quibbles tend to vanish in the hype. "I'm holding the first dire wolf cubs in 12,000 years," said Colossal's chief animal officer, Matt James, after the twin pups' caesarean birth. Published in London by The New European Ltd. Printed by Reach Printing Services, St Albans Rd, Watford WD24 Registered Office: The New European Ltd, 727-729 High Road, London, N12 OBP Subscribe: www.theneweuropean.co.uk #1 So Colossal's claim that this is "the first successful case of de-extinction" is wrong in fact, void of motivation (except commercial), and ethically questionable these wolves have been genetically modified for no medical or ecological reason. Scientists are furious. "To see this work being done with such a casual disregard not only for the truth, but for life itself is genuinely abhorrent to me," said one palaeoecologist. Colossal's biggest goal, literally, is the mammoth, which the company imagines roaming Siberia (to no discernible purpose). So far they've made long-haired mice cue jokes about scaling up. Perhaps they'll succeed in making long-haired elephants. They're certainly making what the co-founder, Ben Lamm, calls "a fuck ton of money". A CTE You might have first encountered dire wolves in Game of Thrones, and Colossal was loaned the Iron Throne from the series (by film-maker Peter Jackson, who has reportedly invested in the company) for a photoshoot with Romulus and Remus. George RR Martin is another investor and acts as "cultural adviser". Who can resist that story? Not Time, and not the New Yorker, cannily offered an exclusive by the company; "The dire wolf is back" was its breathless headline. Of course What they haven't made is a dire wolf. And the problem goes beyond misleading the public. If, hypothetically, you were part of a government administration that regards anything green-tinted, such as conservation of species and habitats, as ideologically dubious, and that considers it is "innovation not regulation that has spawned American greatness", you might be inclined to rejoice in this apparent technofix. And so it is: those are the words of Donald Trump's secretary of the interior, Doug Burgum, who is "excited about the potential of 'de-extinction' technology" and considers that "the revival of the dire wolf heralds the advent of a thrilling new era of scientific wonder". No need for pesky laws and regulations to protect endangered species, because we can always resurrect them! It doesn't much matter whether Burgum believes this nonsense; the point is that, thanks to Colossal, he has a story justifying the removal of yet more conservation regulation. Burgum's meaningless comment that "the dire wolf revival.. embodies strength and courage that is deeply encoded within the DNA of American identity" points to something deeper. The idea of a mythical natural heritage embodying a sort of cultural virility, and which can be recaptured via science, appealed to the Nazis, too. Lutz Heck, director of Berlin Zoo and a member of the SS, dreamed of resurrecting the ancient auroch by the back-breeding of other bovines, as a symbol of the age of Aryan racial purity. Of course de-extinction is not itself "Nazi science", but let's just recognise that Elon Musk loves it.

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The New European

Issue 434 May 8, 2025 "Think without borders"

4

5

6

9

11

12

18

26

31

44

45

46

48

Regulars

PHILIP BALL Critical Mass on dire wolves

Patience Wheatcroft Paul Mason Carousel Tanit Koch's Germansplaining Alastair Campbell's Diary Matthew d'Ancona James Ball Letters Eurofile Puzzles, crosswords and quiz Peter Trudgill's language Great European Lives Marie Le Conte's Dilettante his is Remus. He's a dire T wolf. The first to exist in over 10,000 years." So claimed Time magazine above its cover image of a white-coated canine. You'll be hard-pushed to find a knowledgeable scientist who agrees with the claim.

Remus is a genetically modified grey wolf created by the US "de-extinction" company Colossal Biosciences (valued at $10bn), which has long advertised its intention to recreate the woolly mammoth by gene editing of elephant genomes. By tweaking a handful of regular wolf genes, the company has been able to give Remus (and two other pups, one a twin called, naturally, Romulus) some of the traits thought to be present in ancient dire wolves. To wit: Remus is big and white.

Dire wolves were a species of the Americas that diverged from grey wolves 5.7 million years ago and went extinct more than 10,000 years ago. They will have differed from grey wolves in thousands of genetic particulars - in fact, they were arguably not wolves at all, but closer to coyotes and jackals. The notion that you can recreate them by modifying a few genes is silly, and probably the press only swallows it because we have been groomed to attribute quasi- magical powers of biological determination to genes. Worse, there is no good reason to even want to make dire wolves "de-extinct". The world they were adapted to doesn't exist now; they're not an endangered species, but a vanished one.

this is not an exact replica, says Colossal's chief scientific adviser, Beth Shapiro - it's "childish" to expect that. Rather, it's a replica of the dire wolf "phenotype", which in this case means basically a wolf that's big and white. Such linguistic quibbles tend to vanish in the hype. "I'm holding the first dire wolf cubs in 12,000 years," said Colossal's chief animal officer, Matt James, after the twin pups' caesarean birth.

Published in London by The New European Ltd. Printed by Reach Printing Services, St Albans Rd, Watford WD24 Registered Office: The New European Ltd, 727-729 High Road, London, N12 OBP Subscribe: www.theneweuropean.co.uk

So Colossal's claim that this is "the first successful case of de-extinction" is wrong in fact, void of motivation (except commercial), and ethically questionable - these wolves have been genetically modified for no medical or ecological reason. Scientists are furious. "To see this work being done with such a casual disregard not only for the truth, but for life itself is genuinely abhorrent to me," said one palaeoecologist.

Colossal's biggest goal, literally, is the mammoth, which the company imagines roaming Siberia (to no discernible purpose). So far they've made long-haired mice - cue jokes about scaling up. Perhaps they'll succeed in making long-haired elephants. They're certainly making what the co-founder, Ben Lamm, calls "a fuck ton of money".

You might have first encountered dire wolves in Game of Thrones, and Colossal was loaned the Iron Throne from the series (by film-maker Peter Jackson, who has reportedly invested in the company) for a photoshoot with Romulus and Remus. George RR Martin is another investor and acts as "cultural adviser". Who can resist that story? Not Time, and not the New Yorker, cannily offered an exclusive by the company; "The dire wolf is back" was its breathless headline. Of course

What they haven't made is a dire wolf. And the problem goes beyond misleading the public. If, hypothetically, you were part of a government administration that regards anything green-tinted, such as conservation of species and habitats, as ideologically dubious, and that considers it is "innovation - not regulation - that has spawned American greatness", you might be inclined to rejoice in this apparent technofix. And so it is: those are the words of Donald Trump's secretary of the interior, Doug Burgum, who is "excited about the potential of 'de-extinction' technology" and considers that "the revival of the dire wolf heralds the advent of a thrilling new era of scientific wonder". No need for pesky laws and regulations to protect endangered species, because we can always resurrect them! It doesn't much matter whether Burgum believes this nonsense; the point is that, thanks to Colossal, he has a story justifying the removal of yet more conservation regulation. Burgum's meaningless comment that "the dire wolf revival.. embodies strength and courage that is deeply encoded within the DNA of American identity" points to something deeper. The idea of a mythical natural heritage embodying a sort of cultural virility, and which can be recaptured via science, appealed to the Nazis, too. Lutz Heck, director of Berlin Zoo and a member of the SS, dreamed of resurrecting the ancient auroch by the back-breeding of other bovines, as a symbol of the age of Aryan racial purity. Of course de-extinction is not itself "Nazi science", but let's just recognise that Elon Musk loves it.

A clear and 11 present danger

40 Unlocking the brain with music

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A CTE

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