I recently had a conversation about logotherapy with a deep-thinking young person who was skeptical about Frankl’s claim that meaning comes from beyond us. We are fooling ourselves, he said, when we think a message comes from a “transcendent” place, when in fact it’s coming from within us.
I answered that Frankl believes in man’s intrinsic goodness, and that was the end of that. After reading chapter 5 of The Unconscious God I would like to suggest a better answer, one that takes my young friend’s perspective into account.
First we have to understand the “transcendent quality” of conscience according to Frankl, starting with his assumptions:
1) Attached to the word “freedom” is either the word “from” or the word “to,” that is, we can speak about being free “from” being driven or free “to” be responsible.
2) To be human is to be responsible
3) Conscience is something outside and higher than the self.
4) Conscience is the mediator of a dialogue with “transcendence.”
5) Throughout history, people have called the transcendent origin of the dialogue “God.” People who have problems with organized religion or don’t like using the word “God” nevertheless have a sense of responsibility towards something.
I’m not going to discuss where these assumptions come from. That would be a whole different essay. But if we put together their internal logic, we get the following picture: Conscience is the mediator of a dialogue with God, and God, or some other value, is the “to whom” man is responsible.
Since responsibility is what Frankl calls “response-ability,” or the ability to respond to the message picked up by conscience, the dialogue always results in awareness of a “categorical imperative,” that is, something the hearer is bidden to do or to be.
Therefore, conscience cannot be explained in psychological terms. It makes no sense to say that I make up the rules to which I am beholden. We are not driven to be responsible. Rather, an imperative is given; the self cannot be its own its own lawgiver.
This brings us back to my discussion with the religious young man. No wonder he felt his decisions are only a product of his own making. To the commonly-held religious viewpoint, a clear split exists between conscience and religious imperatives. Conscience is meaning contrived by man; religion bestows God-given categorical imperatives. In comparison to divine revelation, conscience cannot be trusted.
Oddly enough, the atheistic viewpoint starts out the same. They too, conceive of life dissected into two, with conscience (what the individual perceives to be right) on one side and organized religion on the other. The only difference is that they stand on the other side of the divide, on the side of conscience.
I would like to suggest an alternative view. Conscience is the capacity to hear that I am responsible. With this spiritual auditory function, six million people can hear of their national mission or a single individual can hear the role she is meant to play in making peace between two people, or contributing expertise because she is who she is and she was put here for a reason.
Conscience is the mediator of a dialogue, and a dialogue always takes place with an “other.” How well I hear what is being asked of me depends on the fine-tuning of my reception. Thus, I can be confused and perceive wrongly and make mistakes. I can also turn my back on the dialogue, shutting my heart from hearing.
But the basic human capacity to be in dialogue, and in this relationship to sense our responsibility and commitment is the definitive meaning of conscience.
Yes, prophecy will clarify the truth for me. But no book can tell me the truth of the pain or the preciousness of the person before my eyes. (The Unconscious God, Chapter 4)