Dead end

The more intelligent life discussion has taken the usual blind turn, common to most aesthetics discussions regarding high brow art: of trying to establish whether people declaring their taste for Schoenberg (or Schiele or Schoppenhauer) really actually like the stuff or only dissimulate; both sides of the argument agreeing suddenly and enthusiastically that lying is bad and truth-telling is to be wished for. The agreement is uninteresting (anyone here in favor of lying?) and the discussion is fruitless (we just cannot know whether they lie or not). But, mainly, it is irrelevant: after all, to anyone interested in Schoenberg it is wholly and completely uninteresting whether Joe Schmoe really likes Schoenberg or not (it being probably equally indifferent whether Joe Schmoe even exists or not); what is interesting are well-articulated, intelligent, informed, well-considered, nuanced observations about Schoenberg and his music, rooted in extensive exposure to his work, and its background, and in thoughtful reflection on the same; whether these opinions in the end are pro or contra actually does not matter: only that it stimulates us to think does. Most people, of course, can at best tell us whether they like something or not. This tells us something about them, but not much about Schoenberg, and does absolutely nothing to help us deal with the latter.

One could propose a sort of Turing test for aesthetics: if a person has nothing interesting to say about, say, Schoenberg, then it is irrelevant whether or not he likes him; for aesthetic purposes his mind do not exist.