Flight to Manchester delayed owing to Icelandic volcano ash.  (This is likely the only time I will ever write that sentence.)  Hoping that the delay doesn't put us in the UK too late.

Disappointment is a curious thing. First, it is hard sometimes to distinguish between disappointment and unfairness, between disappointment and injustice.  We can be disappointed with other people and perhaps even disappointed in ourselves, though when directed inwards, disappointment may be a different kind of feeling than the one experienced in relation to others.  Disappointment, as I see it, is one of the so-called reactive attitudes discussed by P. F. Strawson.  As Strawson says, we attach "very great importance" to "the attitudes and intentions towards us of other human beings."  Our social life involves attitudinal and emotional reactivity that would be incomplete without the more negative of these affects: resentment, dislike, anger.  These are "non-detatched" inner experiences, Strawson points out, and as such we are social beings even internally (we carry the social ghosts of others, as Mary Gergen has written).  Indeed, our sense of the presence of this significant other may even exceed our sense of connection in practical, external conduct, as when we converse, laugh, and express gratitude.  Disappointment is one of the reactive, non-detached attitudes that make us feel a part of a community even as the feeling, ironically, may be that of disconnection at times.  Its persistence is certainly proof of its importance.

Moving away from affect theory, is interesting to note that the word appoint historically referred to the act of arranging, settling (as in a dispute), or even preparing.  This means that a dis-appointment is something that unsettles an anticipated settling; dis-arranges what one thought was arranged; or interferes with things on route to preparation.  Disappointment, therefore, constitutes interference with expected outcomes; it is disruption in the flow of events, the placing of an impediment in the otherwise settled and orderly movement of an agent.  In this respect, disappointment can be said to have a spatial quality in that forward movement is impeded or detoured by an impinging force.  But disappointment is also a confounding of expectations, a disruption to agreed-upon plans, actions, and storylines.  In other words, disappointment has its temporal aspect, focused as it is on a failure to reconcile past anticipations with present outcomes.  To be disappointed is thus to feel spatially dislocated, as things have not unfolded as anticipated, and temporally unhinged, as the projected future has been changed or even denied. 

But disappointment is not only about spatial dislocation and the thwarting of anticipated outcomes, for as I have already mentioned, it is also an emotional experience, and this is probably its most crucial and most human component.  The intensity of our experience of disappointment will vary from person to person, from situation to situation, and from expectation to expectation.  Yet these variations really only introduce shades to the affective dimension of disappointment, to the experience of being disappointed.  We say we are greatly disappointed, I think, in consequence of the emotional hurt, and not because of the particular significance of the particular expectation upon which our disappointment is anchored.  If we say of ourselves that we are only a little disappointed in some event, this may be because our expectations were less determinate, measured by lower hopes, or never fully embraced as genuine probabilities.  It is also important to note that when we are disappointed, the disarranging that produces the disappointment will often be the result of a disarranger; the unsettling will be the consequence of an unsettler.  In such cases, disappointment is focused on our perception of the intentions of another whose behavior, thought, or wishes have brought about the disruption in our narrative. 

But what about non-human modes of disappointment?  I am uncertain that I can be disappointed in my cat who destroys the furniture, though I may be disappointed in myself for having not been savvy enough to expect his actions and thus taken no measures to prevent such conduct.  Can I be disappointed with the windstorm that damages my house or the rain that ruins my vacation?  Can I only be disappointed in other people? 

Finally, there are even grammatical issues relevant to a discussion of disappointment insofar as we sometimes use the words by, in, with, at, and about as ways of proposing our experience of disappointment.  One useful way to think about these differences might be as follows:

1. I’m disappointed by your choice (i.e., I think your decision will have a negative impact on me, but perhaps all parties concerned will be better off).

2. I’m disappointed at what happened (i.e., I gave it my best, but the result is not what I had hoped for).

3. I’m disappointed in you (i.e., I believed in you and in your ability, but you let me down by not doing what was expected or promised).

4. I’m disappointed with your performance (i.e., I know you can do it and that you tried, but you let me down by not trying hard enough).

5. I’m disappointed about something (i.e., I am unhappy with the outcome which isn't what I expected, but it was really the process that brought about the result that was flawed).

Do these prepositional variations really mean anything, though?  I think the important ones are 3 and 4.  To be disappointed in someone (or something) is to be disappointed regarding what is inside of him or her, i.e., disappointed in their intention, malice, cruelty -- to be disappointed in their character, in other words.  But to be disappointed with someone (or something) is to be disappointed alongside of him or her, unhappy about the circumstances, outside rather than inside.  Or put differently, I am disappointed in your character, but disappointed with your behavior (the inside/outside distinction).

So have I been disappointed lately, and was it disappointed by, at, in, with or about?  I need to think that through a bit more.

It's interesting that some of the things that we imagine we would be better off without might actually serve an important function.  Take blame for instance.  We live in a world where blame is often regarded as a negative attitude that poisons the one who embraces it.  We are encouraged to avoid blaming others as a way of accepting personal responsibility.  We are also advised to avoid the folly of the so-called "blame game" by just getting past, or getting over things that have hurt us.  Blame is also denigrated for its absolutist tendencies, its opposition to the multi-perspectivalism of some postmodern views. 

But blame may indeed be a very valuable thing.  For one thing, morality would flounder without the capacity to hold people accountable.  Blame, in other words, underpins many of our ethical principles since if provides a way for making agency relevant to moral discussions.  Not that blame is easy to pin down.  Just read George Scher's book In Praise of Blame (Oxford, 2006) to get a basic sense of its complexities.  We go to extraordinary lengths to a

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Without contrition on the part of the offender, forgiveness is simply a state of mind -- a condition that may be emotionally...meaningful to the one who forgives but has no significance as a social or moral bond, as a medium for restoring civilized relations between the injured and the injurer.

That the Catholic Church has decided to re-introduce Indulgences to the Catholic faith took me by surprise, even though as an atheist of the lapsed Catholic variety I can't pretend that the announcement really means anything to me personally.  I do recall, however, the considerable confusions that our grade school discussions assumed when the nuns, who were my teachers, attempted to explain the meaning of Indulgences, for these explanations always necessitated that they pass quickly over some rather critical details.  Hence as a grade-schooler I learned that although Indulgences were useful they were also easily liable to being misconstrued, a condition that hasn't changed a great deal judging from the following definition taken from a leading Catholic Encyclopedia:

An indulgence is the extra-sacramental remission of the temporal punishment due, in God's justice, to sin that has been forgiven, which remission is granted by the Church in the exercise of the power of the keys, through the application of the superabundant merits of Christ and of the saints, and for some just and reasonable motive.

The exegetical demands of such reasoning are formidable, and the many cross-references to Catholic-specific doctrinal concepts only add to the interpretive problems.  Among the interesting points about this definition is that the sin for which the indulgence has been sought has already been forgiven; indeed, an indulgence is only properly applied to already forgiven sins.  This is a curious way of conceptualizing forgiveness, of course, but perfectly in line with the "temporal punishment due, in God's justice, to sin."  In other words, when God forgives certain conditions are still attached; specifically, a period of purgatorial cleansing measured out in an unspecified temporal duration is still required as a necessary component of justice.  There must, in other words, be reparation for sin, and once death has occurred the only option available is punishment in purgatory.  Reducing your sentence in purgatory through the acquisition of Indulgences will likely appeal to many Catholics who would prefer a smoother journey from earth to paradise without the need of a stopover.  Indulgences are thus a kind of spiritual air miles card that permits the bearer a more rapid transit with fewer layovers and a minimum of errors in handling the baggage.

The Church proudly notes that no Indulgences will be for sale; that is strictly forbidden.  But good works come in many guises, and I can't help but wonder how long before financial donations to the parish might be repaid in Indulgences.

See New York Times article: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/10/nyregion/10indulgence.html?_r=1

An American writer named Tom Perrotta has proposed establishing two new holidays, one he calls Grievance Day, the other, unsurprisingly, to be called Apology Day.  On Grievance Day people would be encouraged to voice their grievances, large or small, and the aggrieving party would be called upon to listen quietly and passively. Then on Apology Day, which takes place approximately three months later, the person against whom the grievance was made can offer an apology.  Of course, it is possible that the alleged aggriever will forego the issuance of an apology, and may instead use their opportunity on Apology Day to make an excuse for their behavior, to deny the offense, or perhaps simply to explain their actions.  But whatever action they choose, Perrotta believes the world would "become a better place" because "a ritualised air-clearing" would have beneficial consequences.

Now,  I am not quite so naive as to have overlooked the tongue in cheek nature of Perrotta's proposal, but the fact that he makes the suggestion tells us something about the cultural conception of apologies and forgiveness, for in Perrotta's reckoning this is precisely what they are about: reckoning.  One adds up the degree of insult, the weight of the injustice, the quantiity of the injury, and one proceeds to attempt the extraction of an apology as a means of settling matters.  Whether this is ritualistic, as Perrotta suggests, or more formal in nature is not important.  What is important is that we seem more inclined today to accept this sort of contractual arrangement as exhausting the ways in which forgiveness might be conceptualized.  But as Derrida has remarked, true forgiveness consists in forgiving the unforgivable, and in this model there is no room for negotiation, no expectation of calculation, just a kind of "unconditional purity" that Derrida regards as central to the moral status of true forgiveness.  Once conditioned are attached, once forgiveness becomes a process of ethical calculation, it ceases to be forgiveness and becomes instead a form of negotiation.