Following the pattern set by the early German Romantics, Kierkegaard conveys many of his philosophical insights through literature rather than straightforward academic prose. What makes Kierkegaard a valuable member of this tradition is the extent to which he reflects on this procedure. In fact, he argues at length that he could not achieve his goals without proceeding in such an “indirect” manner. The purpose of my dissertation is to determine whether “indirect communication” is as important as Kierkegaard says. I conclude that it is.

The first chapter addresses several methodological problems. (1) Kierkegaard publishes many of his writings on indirect communication under pseudonyms. He then claims that his pseudonymous works do not necessarily contain his own opinions. (2) Kierkegaard requests that we refrain from hunting through his works for philosophical theories (such as one about indirect communication). (3) Kierkegaard suggests a straightforward or direct account of indirect communication, like the one I aim to provide, would be inconsistent. I explain that these considerations would derail my project only if I aimed to follow Kierkegaard on every point. But I do not so aim. I intend to depart from him when he goes astray, as he does here. Therefore, although my project may be un-Kierkegaardian, it is not incoherent.

Chapter Two takes on the task of defining indirect communication. I distinguish between two accounts. According to the first, indirect communication refers to Socrates’ practice of midwifery. (Somewhat idiosyncratically, Kierkegaard identifies this practice not with Socrates’ question-asking method but with his more general strategy of drawing the truth out of people rather than giving it to them.) According to the second account, indirect communication refers to the artful literary devices Kierkegaard uses to engage in midwifery. As I will show, Kierkegaard thinks both accounts pick out something important.

The third chapter turns to Kierkegaard’s central project: helping people become religious. Kierkegaard’s valuable insight is that the nature of the religious life places restrictions on the kind of help he can provide. In particular, he cannot use ordinary methods of persuasion. Such methods prove not only ineffective but self-defeating. He maintains that the only way he can respect these restrictions and still help people become religious is by using what he describes as a Socratic mode of communication.

Chapter Four begins by outlining the kind of Socratic strategy Kierkegaard employs. In brief, it involves describing the various ways people can live but then letting them see for themselves which option is best. Prima facie, it seems pursuit of this strategy does not require artful literary devices. Kierkegaard concedes that this might be true if people were willing to hear about the truth. Unfortunately, many people are not. They engage in self-deception and try to obscure the truth. Straightforward attempts to communicate with such people face an uphill battle at best. Kierkegaard concludes that a more indirect approach, one involving artful literary devices, will fare better.

Chapter Five discusses the role artful literary devices play in Kierkegaard’s response to the Danish Hegelians. These thinkers believe that sophisticated philosophical reflection will provide them with religious benefits and advantages. Kierkegaard rejects this view as a kind of intellectual elitism. He insists that great philosophical ability can bring a person no farther, religiously speaking, than the man on the street can get without it. Importantly, Kierkegaard thinks he cannot defend this position in a straightforward way. He must do so humorously or ironically. For even though the defense is philosophically sophisticated in its own right, it too takes people only as far as the man on the street can get without it.

The sixth and final chapter focuses on Kierkegaard’s claim that he cannot convey knowledge of the religious life to his readers. The problem arises because of the nature of religious concepts. Kierkegaard believes a person can understand such concepts only once she reflects on how they apply to her own life. But neither he nor anyone else can go through this reflection process for her. At most he can prompt her in Socratic fashion to go through it for herself. The best way for him to prompt such a person, he argues, is to offer her fictional examples of characters going through the reflection process. Herein lies the motivation behind his early pseudonymous literature, which contains precisely this kind of example.

I draw two main conclusions from my work. First, Kierkegaard has good reasons for using indirect communication, ones much stronger than scholars heretofore have acknowledged. Second, indirect communication has an important place in our society today. As Kierkegaard’s reflections reveal, there will be times when successful moral and religious pedagogy (and perhaps successful education more generally) requires us to use artful literary mechanisms and not just ordinary, straightforward prose.