This being a Saturday morning, I've been lazy. For some ungodly reason, I've read some piffling article about Rod Liddle's possible editorshop of The Independent being challenged over comments he'd allegedly made pseudonymously on some Milwall website message board, and followed a trail (didn't it use to be called 'surfing the Net'?) to this:
I read a comment somewhere recently on the Internet that expressed the view that most reasonable people are by now "bored to tears" with this whole atheism versus religion debate, and I am, too. Nonetheless, I thought I'd see what Rod Liddle had to say on the subject.
I don't really know what I think about Rod Liddle. His style seems broad and wading. So far, however (I'm halfway through the 3rd clip) I can't really fault him on the direction of that broad wading. (For instance, he cites Stalin's regime as atheist, but not Hitler's.) My own personal reaction is that he is stating the obvious, or what should be the obvious. Perhaps it's not. Anyway, I have the impression that this programme is a simple registering of what the title describes (the trouble with atheism) in the barest and most common, least controversial form such a document can take. There's not a sense so far, that this is breaking new ground, only that it is putting in order a number of observations that have been made and can now be seen as a standard view of a particular position. And no position is neutral, no – not even mine, though I suppose I suggest it is when I describe this programme as "stating the obvious". However, it is precisely this point that is the trouble with atheism, and, at the risk of hammering in a nail that is already nailed, it was summed up for me by the phrase I've just heard from the mouth of Peter Atkins:
What's wrong with arrogance if you're right?
This is a beautiful phrase, since it illustrates perfectly the circularity of atheist chauvinism. The arrogance comes in the certainty that you are right. Atkins justifies his arrogance through the certainty that he is right, which certainty is propped up by his arrogance.
I suppose what is obvious to me is simply this circularity, that atheism is a position that claims to be no position.
Anyway, I'll probably watch the rest of this now, to see if anything becomes less obvious.
This is why I describe myself as an agnostic theist – it removes this void described. Interesting blog although I don’t much care for Rod Liddle.
I’d agree that the debate is moot in that it seems to suggest that you’re either theist or atheist, which frames a particular area of thought as if it’s all that’s possible.I’m not especially opposed to Christianity, though, or not in any sense that’s simple or absolute enough for me to say, “I’m opposed to Christianity.” I’m not really opposed to anything unless I experience it as an infringement of my personal freedom of thought or action. (I might be able to think of things I’m opposed to in other ways later.)In my own life, I see all these things – laws, I suppose – as points of reference. Some people identify strongly with very particular points of reference. I find this interesting, but it seems limiting. There’s no way I can claim to be ‘above all that’, since I know well enough that my own mind is limited, but I do think I’m less inclined to consciously limit myself to one point of reference for my identity than many people.
I am opposed to Christianity regardless of its veracity. I am, in fact, opposed to all laws, physical and metaphysical, regardless of their veracities; therefore, I feel that the entire debate is essentially moot.
Just been thinking about this again.What would it mean to have no laws? That’s what I wondered. Then, I thought, maybe that’s how things are, anyway. How do we know there are any laws?
That’s an interesting designation. I’d be tempted to describe myself as… but perhaps I shan’t, after all. It would have been an something-ic something-ist, but I’m too liable to change my mind.
It is precisely because I feel that Christianity is an infringement of my personal freedoms that I oppose it, since, for one thing (assuming there is truth in it), anybody who defies its tenets will be condemned to eternal damnation.
I see.Well, I’d say that in that sense, I’ve rejected it, but I don’t personally experience it as an infringement these days, because I never meet anyone telling me I should believe in it, or even read or hear words suggesting that I should. This is not because I don’t know any Christians, but since, for quite some time, I haven’t experienced them trying to interfere with my thinking, I don’t experience, either, a need to oppose. If I did, I would.On an abstract level, the two biggest problems with Christianity are Hell and evil. To spout words learned in religious studies lessons, eternal damnation can only be a blot on God’s “perfect creation”. Evil – again, to state the classic argument against Christianity – is a problem because an all-loving, all-powerful God should be both willing and able to rid the world of evil, and yet, evil exists.One of these problems – the latter – is related to questions of whether Christianity is any good in the sense of whether it is true. The other is related to questions of whether it is any good in the sense of whether it is desirable for it to be true.I don’t really believe in a judgemental universe. Humans are judgemental, and even find judgement desirable, because of the need for justice. I’m not sure I find it either desirable or credible. But I do realise that I am only an infinitessimally tiny part of the universe, so the chances of me being able to accurately foresee everything that is going on must be slim.This song has been going round in my head recently, largely because I’ve been watching the series Lost:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k0cYSJEQ_h4“Everybody’s lost, but they’re pretending they’re not.”This includes me, of course. And yet, one way or another, we are compelled to make such a pretence, to some degree, just to get through the day. I’ve also been reading Shelley recently, and find myself very impressed (after all, the genius of someone like Shelley argues for some kind of power, at least, in human thought, intuition and imagination, if only for other humans). He deals with a lot of the problems of faith, doubt, perception, and so on. I had an interesting experience recently, reading Shelley’s ‘Hymn to Intellectual Beauty’ on a train. I’ll probably write a blog post on this sooner or later, but I think he really was a genius, if that word has any meaning at all (and, of course, it’s incredibly overused these days). I was also struck by some lines from the Cenci:My God! Can it be possible I have 55To die so suddenly? So young to go Under the obscure, cold, rotting, wormy ground! To be nailed down into a narrow place; To see no more sweet sunshine; hear no more Blithe voice of living thing; muse not again 60Upon familiar thoughts, sad, yet thus lost— How fearful! to be nothing! Or to be… What? Oh, were am I? Let me not go mad! Sweet Heaven, forgive weak thoughts! If there should be No God, no Heaven, no Earth in the void world; 65The wide, gray, lampless, deep, unpeopled world!In particular, the last three lines here. If there is no ‘meaning’ as pointed to by human intuition, then what is left can only be “weak thoughts”, flickering in the “void world”. I suppose there are all kinds of ways of interpreting the above, but it seems to me precisely to be expressing the horrible uncertainty of human identity. To have any kind of identity, opinion, attitude (hope or despair), in a void world, is utterly grotesque. And yet we cannot be sure that things are otherwise, and, at the same time, it seems we have no choice but to have some kind of attitude in some direction.I suppose what I really object to in atheism is that it seems to treat all this as a closed book. It closes the sky of wondering and of imagination. Religion does this too, in a different way, and I do think that atheism is actually a part of monotheism (Dawkins describes himself as a “cultural Christian”, and I think he’s very, very right). However, at least in the dogma of religion, and in its ossification of metaphor-turned-literal, there is some sense of a riddle that can take you beyond words and beyond the form of religion itself. Of course, very few people actually manage this, and for the most part the riddle seems to exist for people as something quite childish, inhibiting, malforming, pernicious, etc. I’m not convinced that we’d be better off without it, or, at least, not prematurely. That is, I have a kind of notion that the riddle must actually be solved before it disappears, rather than…. swept under the carpet, for want of a better phrase. Then again, my own attitude might seem strange, since I’m happy for others to take on the name of some particular religious sect, in order to provide me with a point of reference, but would object strongly to being compelled to do so myself.I’ve said this before, but I am very influenced by Burroughs’ quoting and interpretation of the last words of Hassan i Sabbah: “Nothing is true. Everything is permitted.” Christianity is one more thing that is permitted. So is atheism. It could be that there are no laws and this is precisely what allows laws to exist, or be assumed, temporarily or locally.
Robin Davies writes:What do you mean by “laws”? If you mean the laws of nature then many of them can be tested by you or anybody.
It depends which of us you’re asking, I suppose.I would say that no one really knows if there are laws. At best, there are observed laws, but this could be a matter of perception. There’s the famous argument by David Hume on this one (the millionth apple might suddenly float up in the air, or something). As far as I know, there hasn’t been any comprehensive rebuttal. I can’t see one myself. Everything is hearsay, really, or memory, except for the here and now of any particular individual. Anything could happen.I’m not saying that there are definitely no laws, and I understand people believing in laws and so on, I’m just saying that we don’t know. We process our experience in terms of laws, just as we see patterns in terms of categories and so on, but what we perceive is our own minds. I think Kant made the argument that this may be true – we can only, in a sense, explore our own minds – but since our own minds are part of creation, in doing so we learn something of the laws of creation. I like this argument, too. Still, even in exploring our own minds, I don’t think our conclusions so far can be definite.
Chris Barker writes:We need law and order. As the People’s Front Of Judea pointed out in ‘Life Of Brian’, the streets weren’t safe before the Romans came along. We even need laws for the intellectual liberals. Many child abusers and online scammers are intelligent people who lead outwardly professional and respectable lives. Without law and order there is anarchy. Evil bullies prey on the weak and vulnerable and steal, kill, rape and pillage. It’s the history of the world. Which is worse – complete lawlessness, or totalitarianism? Arguably lawlessness, because there’s always a chance that we could get a kind and fair dictator. But I’d rather suffer neither of these, and would like to live in a world governed by the morality and decency portrayed in old black and white films, where justice ground fair, and the working man & intellectual worked together to fight the common enemy. Instability is worse than rigidity. We need law before freedom, and then we need to keep leting the reins out until the horse can ride itself.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2010/jan/24/martin-amis-euthanasia-booths-alzheimers?CMP=AFCYAHSince I do keep a blog, against my own better judgement, I must give some kind of impression that I think I know what I’m talking about, but I don’t especially (think that). I don’t think I’d like to be taken as seriously as people seem to be taking Martin Amis in the above article. I mean imagine you’d swigged a few too many G and T’s (or Martinis), and, locked for a while into the tunnel vision that presents your own death to you as an oncoming train, you cry out for euthanasia booths in protest at the horror of it all, and someone writes it all up in the Guardian as if it’s news, and as if you’re controversial, because you have an opinion, drunken or otherwise. So, I don’t know about anyone else, but basically, in the above, I wasn’t talking about legal laws, or even ‘house rules’. At this precise moment, I don’t have much of an opinion on whether there should be a legal system or not. There is one, and it doesn’t seem in danger of going away, and I’m not consciously doing anything at all to make it go away.I would say, though, that a society without laws is at least imaginable, and such societies have apparently existed (still do, I suppose). Farley Mowat describes one, for instance, in The People of the Deer. There are customs and what might be called taboos, or codes, but no legal system, no courts, no police. Apparently, also, in that society (the Ihalmiut), crime was virtually non-existent. Oh – they didn’t have a concept of private property, either, which might have helped.
I just came across something relevant to the subject of societies, laws, and private property. It’s a passage from A Language Older Than Words by Derrick Jensen (p. 211):”Readers may more closely recognize our own culture in Fromm’s description of the Dobus, Kwaikutl, Aztecs, and others he put into the category of “destructive.” These cultures, he said, are “characterized by much interpersonal violence, destructiveness, aggression, and cruelty, both within the tribe and against others, a pleasure in war, maliciousness, and treachery. The whole atmosphere of life is one of hostility, tension, and fear. Usually there is a great deal of competition, great emphasis on private property (if not in material things then in symbols), strict hierachies, and a considerable amount of war-making.””
Related to the Jensen quote, I saw some data recently comparing different societies. In societies where there is a large income disparity, the indicators of social health are worse. For example, such societies have higher rates of child abuse and rape.
Anonymous writes:I love the concept of opposition to all laws. I have this bizarre mental picture of a guy leaping repeatedly into the air, desperately endeavoring to negate the “law” of gravity.I have always considered (mistakenly?) Martin Amis to be “third rate”. But his idea for euthanasia booths, while far from original, is not a bad idea – a pair of them positioned outside the main entrance to Parliament would be ideal to start with – so that I wonder if Mr. Amis will be one of the first to make use of the booth’s facilities? Hope so. I suspect he’s grown a tad tired of writing books that people buy but never read?Atheist arrogance is boring, as is the constant harping on of the followers of that primitive Hebrew sky God, and all his desert derivatives, too. Although, again, I love the concept of this supreme being listening in to all the billions of prayers mumbled in the night; and all this while being deeply concerned (to the point of obsession) about how “good” we’ve been – or not. Lovely. Comforting, too, I suspect.Perhaps Mr. Amis’ booths could use this fact in their marketing program? Here the “silver -tsunami” can meet “God” face-to-face in heaven. No more need for prayers, or soul searching; no more Council Tax demands come to that! Heaven is, well, heaven!Kindest regards.
I love the concept of opposition to all laws. I have this bizarre mental picture of a guy leaping repeatedly into the air, desperately endeavoring to negate the “law” of gravity.This image is really the essence of my character. There is a similar picture at the beginning of Vladimir Nabokov’s “Speak, Memory”. I feel I should transcribe a segment of it now, actually:”The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness. Although the two are identical twins, man, as a rule, views the prenatal abyss with more calm the the one he is heading for (at some forty-five hundred heartbeats an hour). I know, however, of a young chronophobiac who experienced something like panic when looking for the first time at homemade movies that had been taken a few weeks before his birth. He saw a world that was practically unchanged — the same house, the same people — and then realised that he did not exist there at all and that nobody mourned his absence. He caught a glimpse of his mother waving from an upstairs window, and that unfamiliar gesture disturbed him, as if it were some mysterious farewell. But what particularly frightened him was the sight of a brand-new baby carriage standing there on the porch, with the smug, encroaching air of a coffin; even that was empty, as if, in the reverse course of events, his very bones had disintegrated.”Such fancies are not foreign to young lives. Or, to put it otherwise, first and last things often tend to have an adolescent note — unless, possibly, they are directed by some venerable and rigid religion. Nature expects a full-grown man to accept the two black voids, fore and aft, as stolidly as he accepts the extraordinary visions in between. Imagination, the supreme delight of the immortal and the immature, should be limited. In order to enjoy life, we should not enjoy it too much.”I rebel against this state of affairs. I feel the urge to take my rebellion outside and picket nature. Over and over again my mind has made colossal efforts to distinguish the faintest of personal glimmers in the impersonal darkness on both sides of my life. That this darkness is caused merely by the walls of time separating me and my bruised fists from the free world of timelessness is a belief I gladly share with the most gaudily painted savage.”
Ahhhh, Nabokov! Now Nabokov in company with Robert Aickman is God!
This comment thread is becoming excellent.
Find your own unique truth perhaps …”If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.” The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger.
“The way to despair is to refuse to have any kind of experience…Flannery O’Connor
In relation to the original post, I often think of myself as an agnostic gnostic. There is enough ambiguity in that label as to generally capture my own worldview.I dislike ideological extremists no matter what the ideology. I’m attracted to ‘agnosticism’ about many issues. Human knowledge is simply limited, but human ignorance isn’t a reason to dismiss wonder. I do think that some of the New Atheists take their ideology a bit too far. However, compared to many apologists I’ve met, I’d choose the New Atheists any day. The New Atheists sometimes get a bit riled up about nothing and I don’t like the aggressive attacking of religion, but overall the New Atheists are just slightly irritating on occasion. I think that the New Atheists do more good than harm in that they’re offering much needed balance. I hope the atheists keep bringing up criticisms and keep asking the hard questions.However, I hope it doesn’t end there. My hope is that the extremists on both ends will make agnostics appear more moderate and mainstream. When the fight between theists and atheists is over, I think agnostics might be the winner.
If there were only three positions in the world – agnostic, atheist and theist – I think I’d be the first of these three, but even that’s not clear cut. I suppose I don’t really like saying I’m this or that, because, I don’t know, it doesn’t seem to help me to do so, and I’m not sure it helps anyone else, either, but the label I was going to use earlier but drew back from (a label I have used in correspondence) was really quite close to Rob’s – agnostic pantheist.I don’t really feel that it matters whether I do or don’t use those two words, unless one way or the other is helpful, as I’ve said. To be honest, I think not using them is more helpful.On the subject of agnosticism, have you read The Life of Pi? The narrator in that story – that is, the narrator of the embedded narrative, and not the narrator claiming to be the author – has a thing about agnostics. The whole novel is basically a fairly eloquent defence of religion, but interestingly, the narrator refers to atheists as brothers in faith or some such thing. He doesn’t like agnostics. Atheists, he thinks, can make a leap of faith, but he doesn’t seem to think agnostics are capable of this. There’s a passage that goes something like: “I can imagine an atheist, dying, thinking to himself, ‘I’m getting cold, I’m dying, I’m going, the light… wonderful, the light!’, but an agnostic would think, ‘Getting cold, the light, the light, just my brain cells sparking out releasing endorphins, going dark, going dark…'”Since I’m more inclined to empathise with agnosticism than the other two positions mentioned or implied, I felt slightly wounded at this (which, when you think about it, is the reaction only an agnostic could have to such a slur), but then I thought, “This is really silly. I’m not even an agnostic – it’s just a word.”However, compared to many apologists I’ve met, I’d choose the New Atheists any day.I think the trouble with me, perhaps, is that I never meet the other kinds of apologist these days, which may be why I seem unfair, if I do.On the other hand, maybe I’d be unfair, anyway, just because I’m me.
I’m certainly not attached to having any particular term applied to my own personhood. To me, ‘agnostic’ is more of a description than a label. It simply is an accurate description of the fact that my ignorance is greater than my knowledge… and, as far as I can tell, this seems equally true for all humans. Being agnostic partly just means being humble, but I suppose it means more than that.To me, my agnostic stance means that I keep my mind open with wonder and curiosity. Ignorance isn’t defeat but rather an opportunity… or something like that.Furthermore, my agnostic stance is about experience. I trust my own experience. My attitude is that experience trumps all. However, I take into account all experience and don’t limit myself to my personal and subjective experience. I take into account other people’s experience and compare it to my own (as it’s the only measure I have). I also take into account the collective experience of religious people and of the scientific community.A theist or an atheist may be willing to stick to ideology or else make a leap of faith, but as an agnostic I’m unwilling or unable to do this. If my experience (along with my intuitive and intellectual understanding) doesn’t confirm something, then I’m not going to believe it. However, I’m more than willing to make a leap of wonder. Have I read The Life of Pi? I’ve never read it, but I know I’ve seen it around many times. I may have skimmed it. I don’t recall anything about it.As you describe the author’s view, I’d disagree with him. I have no reason to conclude anything even at death. Sure, the brain is dying. I just don’t see any reason to make theological claims about my dying experiences and I don’t see a reason to try to comfort myself by explaining it away with science. Be it light or darkness, I’ll leap into it. In that moment, making pre-emptive conclusions is rather pointless. If there is an afterlife, I’ll soon have firsthand experience and evidence.
I think faith is key or at least it buttresses my view that in the context of this thread I would best describe myself as an agnostic theist. Naturally I don’t announce myself as such. I think faith is a requirement for religion. To put it very simply I don’t care whether or not God “exists” but he might do … after all man has been seeking the “truth”(ridiculously arrogant term) for centuries. Originally posted by MarmaladeINFP:As you describe the author’s view, I’d disagree with him. I have no reason to conclude anything even at death. Sure, the brain is dying. I just don’t see any reason to make theological claims about my dying experiences and I don’t see a reason to try to comfort myself by explaining it away with science. Be it light or darkness, I’ll leap into it. In that moment, making pre-emptive conclusions is rather pointless. If there is an afterlife, I’ll soon have firsthand experience and evidence.Marmalade – I can readily agree with that. Experience does trump all.I’m afraid I haven’t read The Life of Pi either Originally posted by quentinscrisp:Atheists, he thinks, can make a leap of faith, but he doesn’t seem to think agnostics are capable of this. There’s a passage that goes something like: “I can imagine an atheist, dying, thinking to himself, ‘I’m getting cold, I’m dying, I’m going, the light… wonderful, the light!’, but an agnostic would think, ‘Getting cold, the light, the light, just my brain cells sparking out releasing endorphins, going dark, going dark…'”I cannot imagine what I’ll be thinking at the point of death – I’ll hopefully say to myself – “what was all that about” (my life that was) and then phut.Finally and coming back to the original premise or thoughts on this thread – I don’t have a problem with atheists – they become noticeable only when they want force there views on everybody else. Wasn’t there a poster campaign on the London Underground recently? I certainly don’t wish to intellectualize whether or not one has faith – either you do or you don’t. Tolerance is my view. Of course you don’t need faith to have socially and societally acceptable morals and ethics – which is often a conspicuous intolerance from people with faith. Rob
Pi is determined, we must give him that: “I will turn miracle into routine. The amazing will be seen every day.” And his triple conversion to Hinduism, Islam and Christianity, reminds us of Gandhi (Mohandas Karamchand), doesn’t it? Having studied Hinduism, Christianity, Islam, Jainism and Buddhism, Gandhi concluded all principle religions are equal and are all TRUE. He believed the essence of all religion is not dogmatic truth, but ethical action based on self-surrender.In his lifeboat Pi suggested “yarn spinning is highly recommended”(a pun on storytelling and spinning); Gandhi described the spinning wheel as a symbol of simplicity and self-reliance.The two Mr. Kumars, Pi’s atheist teacher and the banker who led him to Islam, are in the zoo taking “the pulse of the Universe”. Both wonder at the Zebra and his stripes, but in opposing ways: the scientific and the spiritual; faith and science coexist throughout the book in a delicate balance. It questions our assumptions about religious divisions, and about freedom (the zoo in juxtaposition to the wild). Sad to say, it is not a book I particularly enjoyed. But that ,I feel sure, is my loss. ‘It is not atheists who get stuck in my craw,’ Pi says, ‘but agnostics. Doubt is useful for a while. We must all pass through the garden of Gethsemane . . . but we must move on. To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation.’Ahhh, but don’t you just hate these labels? It’s too much. The world and universe around us (at least what I’ve seen of it) fills me with a sense of wonder. Human beings are puny in comparison, sitting on this tiny speck of dust in space. The minuscule fragments of knowledge they possess makes them believe they know everything! Who is Pi’s God? The question isn’t answered by the novel. We never find out.Gandhi said: God is Truth. In other words he equates God with ultimate reality. Later, realizing many people didn’t believe in God, he changed his message to: Truth is God. Here, I think, he was influenced by the Jain theory of the many sidedness of truth (and since human beings are so fallible, they cannot be sure of knowing Truth).So what label would we attach to Gandhi as a result? And would it have any relevance anyway?Frankly, believing in God or no, if the world’s population wholeheartedly embraced Jainism tomorrow, this little planet would be totally transformed. Life would be so very different from the way it is now.Gandhi truly believed Lord Krishna’s message in the Bhagavad Gita that everyone must act to maintain this world. His aim was to achieve egolessness. It’s an aim that could certainly serve as a goal for politicians everywhere!For the rest of us who lack certainty or have achieved egolessness, there is only that strange purple shape in the darkness beyond beyond.All the best.
Originally posted by vacillateallday:I think faith is key or at least it buttresses my view that in the context of this thread I would best describe myself as an agnostic theist. Naturally I don’t announce myself as such. I think faith is a requirement for religion. To put it very simply I don’t care whether or not God “exists” but he might do … after all man has been seeking the “truth”(ridiculously arrogant term) for centuries.For some reason, many people think of faith and doubt as opposites. Going by my own experience, doubt is the very thing that strengthened my faith. Faith untested is a weak faith. Faith without doubt is merely blind conviction, and I personally don’t consider faith to be equivalent to blind conviction. Faith allows one to be open to uncertainty. Blind conviction, on the other hand, closes one down to the experience of uncertainty. Doubt is merely an element of curiosity and wonder. As such, my label ‘agnostic gnostic’ might be the same as your label ‘agnostic theist’.Originally posted by peedeel:‘It is not atheists who get stuck in my craw,’ Pi says, ‘but agnostics. Doubt is useful for a while. We must all pass through the garden of Gethsemane . . . but we must move on. To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation.’If embracing curiosity and wonder is akin to choosing immobility, then bring on the immobility. The problems in this world usually don’t come from those who embrace possibility, immobilized or not. The people I fear are those who are mobilized by religious certainty or other forms of ideological conviction.
Originally posted by Marmalade:”If embracing curiosity and wonder is akin to choosing immobility, then bring on the immobility.” Indeed, I’d second that one!Also posted by Marmalade:”The people I fear are those who are mobilized by religious certainty or other forms of ideological conviction.” I agree. Conviction or dogmatic truth are the killers we should beware of.
Also, I was thinking about some of the comments here as I was delousing a ferret earlier, and it seemed to me that what bothered me about claiming any particular position as my own is that a lot of the argument – and the essence of what I would like to argue against – is founded on the assumption that if you’re one thing then you can’t be the other, but it seems to me that to believe, for instance, that atheism contradicts Christianity is like believing that air contradicts water. Both things exist in this world and neither is a threat to the other. The world has topography, it is full of different terrains, different climatic conditions, different life-forms and so on. The fact that Antarctica exists does not mean that the Sahara cannot also exist.
I should probably point out that I mentioned The Life of Pi not because I agree with the sentiments expressed in it, but because I thought they offered an interesting perspective. I was, in a sense, trying to see myself through others’ eyes.
Originally posted by quentinscrisp:I should probably point out that I mentioned The Life of Pi not because I agree with the sentiments expressed in it, but because I thought they offered an interesting perspective. I was, in a sense, trying to see myself through others’ eyesI certainly wasn’t criticizing you for referencing that book. It isn’t unusual for me to read writings that I don’t agree with. A book doesn’t have to be interesting simply because I agree with the author. Anyways, I wasn’t assuming that the opinions of the author were the same as your own.Originally posted by quentinscrisp:it seems to me that to believe, for instance, that atheism contradicts Christianity is like believing that air contradicts water. Both things exist in this world and neither is a threat to the other.Yes, that is basically the same as my own view. This is why I prefer to study psychology. The study of psychology is all about perspectives, and one perspective doesn’t discount another. They’re just perspectives that are equally true within human experience.
Originally posted by quentinscrisp:”I should probably point out that I mentioned The Life of Pi not because I agree with the sentiments expressed in it, but because I thought they offered an interesting perspective.”As already mentioned I didn’t particularly enjoy “Pi” – maybe because of its big shortfall. It tells the reader “you’ve got to believe” but ultimately it’s uncertain about what it is we should believe in? God is okay; atheism is okayish. But agnosticism is a big bad no, no!The book seems to suggest you should believe in God as a “story” (there are those continuous analogies between God and literature or the telling of tales); God as symbol for “tale”; hence God is a tale.The thinking seems a tad flawed in my view. It’s as if the author took Gandhi’s “God is Truth” and changed it to “God is a good story” or even “God is great literature” and therefore you should believe. It doesn’t quite work for me in the same way. Especially when I already have a substantial pantheon of Gods and Goddesses to pay homage to: Aickman, Nabokov, Eco, Calvino –“When a man rides a long time through wild regions he feels the desire for a city. Finally he comes to Isidora, a city where the buildings have spiral staircases encrusted with spiral seashells, where perfect telescopes and violins are made, where the foreigner hesitating between two women always encounters a third, where cockfights degenerate into bloody brawls among the bettors. He was thinking of all these things when he desired a city. Isidora, therefore, is the city of his dreams: with one difference. The dreamed of city contained him as a young man; he arrives at Isidora in his old age. In the square there is the wall where the old men sit and watch the young go by; he is seated in a row with them. Desires are already memories.”Cities & Memory – 2from INVISIBLE CITIES by Italo Calvino.Ahhh, with so many Gods in which to believe it is hard for me to believe in anything else! The world becomes less than substantial!And yes, I’d agree with you, Pi is not without interest; but simple put, I was one of the few in this world who didn’t enjoy its sevenfold delights. But it’s still a book worth reading!
Originally posted by quentinscrisp:”it seems to me that to believe, for instance, that atheism contradicts Christianity is like believing that air contradicts water. Both things exist in this world and neither is a threat to the other.”It appears to me that the threat is contained within the perception of one of the other: like beauty, the threat is in the eye of the beholder!
As you can see, my replies are skimpy at the moment, and this one will be, too. I was just going to remark – perhaps preparatory to later expansion, perhaps not – that the question posed at the end of The Life of Pi, “Which makes the better story?”, is probably the part of the book that I ‘got’ the most. This is because I seem to be attuned to the whole idea of story as a means for validating existence.It seems to me that it is only the part of the human mind that treats existence – one’s personal existence especially – as a story that makes life bearable. That it is bearable at all I think is thanks to this faculty. Martel seems to associate this faculty with religion, and so, in a very broad sense, do I. We do recognise differences between ‘real life’ and stories, but these seem relative rather than absolute. One way or another, people frame their lives as if they are stories. I’m not expressing this very well, but it is something I’ve observed over the years.On the Shelley theme mentioned above, for instance, there’s a part in ‘Alastor’, where he says something about, writing about this terrible solitude in a poem would not express it, since that would turn it into a poem. BUT he’s already gone and put it into a poem – ‘Alastor’. He can’t help it. He is straining to say, there is a solitude so terrible that it is outside of the poem-making faculty of the human brain, but in doing so he gives evidence that the human brain automatically uses this faculty, even if an indivudual does not literally write a story or poem about their experiences. To say, as Theodor Adorno does, that after Auschwitz writing poetry is barbaric, is very similar to the theological problem of evil. It’s barbaric, presumably, because it’s a lie (that’s the implication, anyway). The meaning-making faculty in humans is considered too trivial here – you cannot make meaning out of Auschwitz.I would certainly recognise the dilemma that is posed here. On some scale, it’s a dilemma that we surely all live with. I often think, “Why do I write? It’s useless, unhealthy, dishonest,” and so on, that is, it is too trivial to be relevant to my ‘real life’. Nonetheless, I continue to write and to find meaning in writing.Humans have problems transferring the meaning of pure story to ‘real life’, but find it just as problematic, if not more so, abandoning story altogether.Well, I’m about to go to bed, and this may seem incoherent. At least it may give some idea of what ‘story’ means to me.My general critical response to The Life of Pi – it’s not Robert Aickman. I think Martel writes well, but he does not have a strong individual style, and therefore he does not especially interest me. His book is one of a number of books that are not really to my taste, but which sum up a particular idea, so that the book can be used as shorthand for that idea in conversation. That seems to me to be the main purpose served by his book. I generally (not in every single case) prefer writing whose main purpose is something other than to present and define a ‘concept’. I (generally) prefer texture, atmosphere, ambiguity, ‘other worlds’, and so on.
Chris Barker writes:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vp1HVg_J7QA
Originally posted by quentinscrisp: “one’s personal existence especially – as a story that makes life bearable.” This is fascinating. If I understand correctly (I probably don’t, to be honest), you are able to see your life as an ongoing story, a work of fiction, with a termination point (Finis) somewhere in the future, unplanned and random? In the lap of the Gods?I would guess that this is true for most of us, to a greater or lesser extent: though for you, apparently, to a much great extent than most! For me…for me, I am more interested in creating stories about others, I s’pose. I don’t think a great deal about my own existence. I don’t make comparisons. I did when I was much younger. As a teen I believed I was in hell: I’d been forced into a hellish existence as a punishment for…for what? I didn’t know. My life then was truly Kafkaesque. I found relief (consolation?) in art and in writing. And music, too.Now, it is life’s absurdities that make it interesting to me. I see the world around me as lines on the surface of an image only half-understood, but with the assignation of a definite sense to each of them in turn. There is (I believe) a hierarchy of significations in the absurdities with which I’m surrounded. These are concepts I find hard to vocalise, or put into words on a page. At any rate, in any way fully comprehensible to others.Question: If your life is a “story”, who then is the author? Are we all authors of our own story? I suspect, to an extent, we are. If I were to write a narrative of my childhood, I suspect it would be very different from a similar narrative written by one of my parents, or a school friend. To this extent we “create” our own histories (and the histories of others, also) in an ongoing and markedly personal way.The fault I find in Pi is that Martel fails to go the whole hog. Deep, deep down (IMO) he wants us (his readers) to believe in God (as a supreme and supernatural being – benign, of course, complete with patriarchal beard and deeply concerned about human beans). Okay. So far so good. But then he pulls a Gandhi on us, and says “God is story” so we should believe; in the same way Gandhi originally said: “God is truth”, which later he had to change to “Truth is God” – these are very different propositions. Martel made the claim (on publication of his book) that Pi would “convert every reader into a believer in God”. Ummmm.God as story, just won’t do it. Not for me. Although it is easy for me to see the growth of Greek Drama and Literature from the rituals of their religion; and various real or imaginary beings do acquire a certain lyrical presence of great evocative force in Greek drama, which ultimately provided the roots for the evolution of our “own” drama and literature. Yes, in that context, God is “story”. But in no other.Also originally posted by quentinscrisp: “To say, as Theodor Adorno does, that after Auschwitz writing poetry is barbaric…”Adorno was being pretentious as hell, and knew it! Which is why later he said: “Perennial suffering has as much right to expression as the tortured have to scream,” thus echoing Kafka. He went on: “ hence it may have been wrong to say that no poem could be written after Auschwitz.”Too right, mate!Why does anyone write? Because he/she wants to. If they are a Rilke, they HAVE to. For myself, I am not interested in writing that isn’t obsessive. That’s the best way I can explain it at this precise moment in time. I’ve just had a Spanish test and feel tired as hell, so I’ll call it a day on this for now. But some interesting ideas being tossed about here. As I said to begin: “Fascinating”.All the best.
Hello again.Some notes so I don’t forget:As I was about to lay down in my bed last night, I knew I had not explained myself adequately. No one will know what I mean by story, I thought. I don’t mean words in a book, though that is one particular form. I mean a kind of perception that appears to be inherent in humans. I tried to think of other words for it. These words came to me: familiarity, home.
… Continued – perhaps that’s why he lived to the age of 91 …?
I only gave a quote from this chap the other day …American novelist JD Salinger, author of classic 20th Century book The Catcher in the Rye, has died aged 91.The reclusive writer died of natural causes at his home in the state of New Hampshire, his son said. The Catcher In The Rye, first published in 1951, is a tale of teenage angst. It has become one of the most influential American novels of the modern era.Throughout his life he befriended women much younger than himself – that’s what he liked – I haven’t a clue why I mention that …
Yesterday. I didn’t realise. I think he was hoarding stories in a safe (if I remember correctly), because he stopped publishing new stuff after John Lennon’s killer claimed to be influenced by Catcher in the Rye. Anyway, I suppose this will mean that new stuff will be published.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eBqe5xvYnNc
“No one will know what I mean by story, I thought. I don’t mean words in a book, though that is one particular form. I mean a kind of perception that appears to be inherent in humans. I tried to think of other words for it. These words came to me: familiarity, home.”I don’t know exactly what you mean by story, but I’ve had thoughts along these lines. Something about stories seem inherent to human nature. They influence the way we understand ourselves and the way we perceive the world. My own views on this have been informed by Jung and depth psychologists. I think there is some truth to archetypes. What interests me about archetypes is that they’re essentially relational. Archetypes only have meaning in terms of their relationship to other archetypes and this relationship comes in the form of narratives.I think we all live our lives according to various stories. It’s just that we’re mostly unconscious of this. We enjoy stories because it resonates with something within us.
“I cannot think otherwise than in stories.”Oscar Wilde.That’s really how I think, too. I’m not a philosopher, by which I mean, I do not express myself through philosophy (even if philosophy interests me). Symbolism (not mere allegory) is living thought, and it is living thought because it is relative, or relational. In other words, I very much agree with this:Archetypes only have meaning in terms of their relationship to other archetypes and this relationship comes in the form of narratives. Fiction, or story, seems to me multivalent (to use one of Richard Tarnas’s favourite words) in a way that philosophy seldom is.
“I’m not a philosopher, by which I mean, I do not express myself through philosophy (even if philosophy interests me). Symbolism (not mere allegory) is living thought, and it is living thought because it is relative, or relational.”I don’t know if I’m a philosopher, but I sure do spend quite a bit of time thinking and writing about philosophical ideas. I’m not much for abstract philosophy. The philosophers I like are: Philip K. Dick, William S. Burroughs, Thomas Ligotti, Franz Kafka, Robert Anton Wilson, Terrence McKenna, Eric G. Wilson, Victoria Nelson, etc. However, my interest in the dusty tomes of European philosopher is quite limited.My favorite ‘philosophers’ that I just mentioned all either write stories or write about other people’s stories. To me, story and philosophy are inseparable. I think this connection is at least partly attributable to Jung. I would include Jung as one of my favorite ‘philosophers’ as he did study philosophy quite widely. Of course, he also studied traditional stories to a very great degree. Because of Jung, my understanding of story and philosophy is also intertwined with my understanding of psychology.My singlemost favorite ‘philosopher’ is Philip K. Dick because his writing is the closest to my own thinking. Along with philosophy and fiction, PKD studied religion (specifically Christianity, Gnosticism and Taoism) and studied psychology (specifically Jung who studied Christianity, Gnosticism and Taoism). In PKD’s best fiction, he merges philosophy seamleslly into story.
Sooner or later, I’m going to attempt to respond to certain things on this thread I haven’t responded to so far.Anyway, by coincidence, I was just thinking earlier this evening about what I’d said about philosophy, and wondering whether it was accurate or not. But that’s just the problem. Even if I’m pretty much consistent in my views, I never feel good about expressing them in the ‘direct’ language of philosophy (my disavowel here, by the way, was not because I thought I’d be mistaken for a professional philosopher or someone even vaguely authoritative). In other words, stating general truths/views (even qualified with ‘imho’s etc.) about the nature of the world and so on. It’s not so much that I don’t have a view as that I can’t seem to express it philosophically. For me, at least, philosophy always needs a little adjusting this way, or that way. Even the very best philosophy requires endless footnotes and still only takes you so far. A good story, on the other hand, may easily require no footnotes at all. What’s more, even when it does, the footnotes will be of a different order – they will not be an extension or clarification of the story, but perhaps a matter of historical context, explaining an archaic phrase, that kind of thing. It’s much easier in a story to arrive at what you really want to express, and say, “That’s it!” and be satisfied not to explain anything further.With philosophy, I never quite feel, “That’s it!” I think this is where the negative or negating aspect of Buddhism comes in, too, because fundamental (to Zen, at least) is a rejection of final definition, so that when someone says, “Aha, it’s….”, the answer is always, “No, that’s not it.” The misapprehension here is that this means it’s not anything, or that it’s nothing. But it’s not. Really, language is responsible for terrible deformations and limitations of human perception. Philosophy seems always to try and extend such deformed and limited perception as language allows over all time and space. A story, on the other hand, while also limited, is less likely to overextend itself. A story is not rules, it is time and place. Life works within time and place and is expressed through them. In this way, by limiting itself, story tends to be less limited than philosophy.I realise that this might seem an unfair assessment, but it’s a fairly accurate statement of my own feelings on the subject… which will inevitably need adjusting later.(For instance, I realise there is a very strong philosophical element to stories I’ve written, and at the very least it must be necessary for philosophy to exist in a pure form to allow me to do this. Also, since philosophy is basically ‘wondering what it’s all about’, I’m not sure the human race would be human – I mean human in a good way, if that’s possible – without it.)
Wow, this clip touches on just about everything mentioned in this message thread, including Salinger:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7t9St3pTlKQ
Originally posted by quentinscrisp: “a rejection of final definition, so that when someone says, “Aha, it’s….”, the answer is always, “No, that’s not it.” The misapprehension here is that this means it’s not anything, or that it’s nothing. But it’s not.” Hi, again.Is this not the point (at least in part) Lewis Carroll made in the HUNTING OF THE SNARK?The Baker is Man himself, on the brink, erect, sublime, wagging his head like an idiot. Then suddenly that unexpected, choked-off cry, “It’s a Boo – ” Then silence…For the elusive Snark they all pursued was a Boojum, you see.The Boojum is the absolute, the One that absorbs the Many. The lesson is that the Snark will always prove to be a Boojum. Obviously we must all feel a little sorry for the fate of the poor Baker, but the verdict of Philosophy must always be: so perish all those who haunt the Snark. It is absolute, thus unknowable.
“Really, language is responsible for terrible deformations and limitations of human perception.”That reminds me of William S. Burroughs’ view that word is virus.”Philosophy seems always to try and extend such deformed and limited perception as language allows over all time and space. A story, on the other hand, while also limited, is less likely to overextend itself. A story is not rules, it is time and place. Life works within time and place and is expressed through them. In this way, by limiting itself, story tends to be less limited than philosophy.”I’m sympathetic to your understanding of story. How I’d explain it is that story potentially gets closer to the raw experience. It touches upon how we actually perceive the world and the limitations of this human perception are on display. In philosophy, it’s easy to remove this human quality from one’s thinking. The problem is that philosophy doesn’t offer reality, but simply conjecture. Even the hard sciences are mired in the problems of philosophy. Too many materialists are too sure of themselves. I prefer the social sciences. Psychology is closer to story than to physics. Psychology is less prone to the idealizing of truth or even logic that will lead to absolute objectivity.Philosophy is only problematic when it’s disconnected from the human, the subjective, the ephemeral. But, when combined with story and with human experience, philosophy can go beyond mere conjecture and instead become a mode of wonder… which is touched upon in the video you linked.”Wow, this clip touches on just about everything mentioned in this message thread, including Salinger: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7t9St3pTlKQ “In that scene, imagination is defined as a way of entering reality. The stumbling block is that imagination has become externalized for most people. The disconnection from experienced reality is a disconnection of self from self. Philosophy without imagination can only take us further from reality. That makes me think of a John Oliver segment on The Daily Show which was about the Good Old Days.http://www.indecisionforever.com/2010/01/06/john-oliver-searches-for-glenn-beck-and-bill-oreillys-good-old-days/One of the clips included was of Glenn Beck: “If a politician told you right now that he could make that happen again, that you could go back to those simpler times when people were together, you’d do it in a heartbeat, wouldn’t you? But the truth is… no politician could take you there, they can only take you farther from there.” The funny part is that Beck was reminiscing about a commercial. Talk about disconnect from reality.It is a funny video, but Beck does connect with many people. Something about imagination always makes people think of the past. John Oliver concludes the reason is because the past is most strongly defined by our childhood: “For children, the world is always a happy uncomplicated place.”Imagination is always elsewhere, either outside of us or in the past. I guess this is fairly normal, but I do think that modern culture magnifies this sense of imagination being elsewhere. It’s probably best exemplified by the Christian notion of Heaven, a pervect world that is far away in the sky.From what I understand, cultures weren’t always this way. The earliest cultures had no clear notion of the afterlife. Imagination was more inspired by the immediate world and religious stories were part and parcel of experience. I think Max Weber explains some of this (the rise of the rational individual… which relates to Julian Jaynes theory). Civilization is built on hierarchy and compartmentalization. Civilization is built on many abstractions such as money and nations, and these abstractions define our very sense of reality.I suppose we could also go the route of Ligotti and Zapffe. Maybe the rise of civilization is just one of the many results of the arising of self-consciousness and it’s attendant suffering. Imagination often (always?) used as a way to escape suffering and maybe civilization is nothing more than an institutionalization of this desire to escape.Civilization is the limiting of possibilities. As nations grow larger, their cultural complexity lessens. And as the world becomes globalized, most cultures get entirely destroyed. Hollywood becomes the collective imagination for our global sense of self.I don’t know if all of this is bad. Civiization is a fascinating experiment. My point is simply about the power of stories. Civilization is built on a specific narrative. One of the variations of this narrative is Manifest Destiny and another variation is the the hero/savior. I entirely believe that who controls the stories will control society. That is why corporations have bought up most of the media and are steadily putting local media out of business.
I can’t watch that clip for some reason.Speaking of the good old days, though, I’ve just watched this:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1xXdQ4a7h3UAnd here’s something from the saga of the Volsungs:Guessing something to be amiss, Signy’s two women went and stood beside the men to hear what they were saying. Signy rose, and unnoticed by anyone, took her children, one by either hand, and went swiftly from the hall out to the porch. ‘Sigmund, Sinfiotli,’ she whispered, and they came from behind the casks. ‘Take care,’ she said, ‘for Siggeir knows that you are here.’
Sigmund frowned, but Sinfiotli only said, ‘Then shall we enjoy an even mightier battle than we had hoped for.’
Her face hard and her heart like ice, Signy thrust forward her two little boys. ‘Kill for me these children of Siggeir,’ she said, ‘for they have betrayed you.’
‘They are but little children,’ said Sigmund. ‘I would not kill a child.’
But young Sinfiotli, smiling grimly, stepped forward, and before they even knew what he was about, he had struck off the boys’ heads. ‘It is done, my mother,’ he said.And talking of the death of the imagination, I do feel very dead myself, if it comes to that. Some people, of course, would say that I’m rather on the imaginative side, but I don’t seem to have the kind of imagination that would enable me, for instance, to be a suicide bomber.Now the hallowed words of Robert Aickbon:The beliefs that one day, by application of reason and the scientific method, everything will be known [see Peter Atkins above], and every problem and unhappiness solved, seem to me to have led to a situation where, first, we are in imminent danger of destroying the whole world, either with a loud report or by insatiable overconsumption and overbreeding, and where, second, everyone suffers from an existentialist angst, previously confined to the very few. There is a fundamental difference between worrying where one’s next meal is coming from and worrying about the quality and reality of one’s basic being.The kind of people depicted in Germinal, mine-workers and their families half-starved and rioting for bread, apparently went on having children, as did those who led the nasty, brutish and short lives depicted in the Norse saga. What story, what act of imagination, what assumption allowed them to do this? I am not in immediate danger of starving, or of being slain in the midst of some Viking feud, but to me procreation is incomprehensible.In this, I consider myself to be irretrievably and unforgivably decadent. Without the imagination to connect me to something to breed for, something to die or kill for, I’m really only a black hole with nothing to offer the world.But the truth is – sadly, very, very sadly – I don’t see anything in the world that’s worth dying for, or any glimmer of justification for giving birth.In this sense, whether I am agnostic or not, my state is certainly the immobility mentioned by Martel, and the paralysis mentioned in the clip.
More reasons for me to read more Chesterton:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G._K._Chesterton#Ontology
Related to the Jensen quote, I saw some data recently comparing different societies. In societies where there is a large income disparity, the indicators of social health are worse. For example, such societies have higher rates of child abuse and rape.I didn’t say anything, but I found this very interesting, and not unexpected. Somewhere way back in time the Mafia took over. Now we call them ‘the Government’, or ‘the church’, or ‘the banks’. Their influence is evil.I have always considered (mistakenly?) Martin Amis to be “third rate”. Second rate, surely.But no, I say that only for the sake of the joke. I suspect it’s true, but haven’t read enough to give any kind of case beyond mere suspicion. But his idea for euthanasia booths, while far from original, is not a bad idea – a pair of them positioned outside the main entrance to Parliament would be ideal to start with – so that I wonder if Mr. Amis will be one of the first to make use of the booth’s facilities? Hope so. I think it’s a good idea, too, actually, in some form or another. It’s an idea that’s given a somewhat sinister treatment in a story by Robert Chambers called ‘The Repairer of Reputations’. Terry Pratchett has this to say of ‘assisted suicide’:”If I knew that I could die at any time I wanted, then suddenly every day would be as precious as a million pounds. If I knew that I could die, I would live. My life, my death, my choice.”I agree. Strange that I find it easier to agree with Pratchett than with Amis. Must be the grumpy-old-literature-aristocracy bit that makes his idea sound so tiresome. “Let them drink Martinis (as they die)!”He caught a glimpse of his mother waving from an upstairs window, and that unfamiliar gesture disturbed him, as if it were some mysterious farewell. But what particularly frightened him was the sight of a brand-new baby carriage standing there on the porch, with the smug, encroaching air of a coffin; even that was empty, as if, in the reverse course of events, his very bones had disintegrated.This is excellent writing. “…as if it were some mysterious farewell.” You can’t get finer writing than that, simple, but spine-tingling in context. I’ve only read Lolita and I don’t really know what I think of Nabokov on the whole, but this is good.”The way to despair is to refuse to have any kind of experience…
Flannery O’ConnorI expect I shall be reading her sooner or later. This has certainly been my route to despair. Not that I remember refusing, but, nonetheless, experience has been refused.To put it very simply I don’t care whether or not God “exists” but he might do … after all man has been seeking the “truth”(ridiculously arrogant term) for centuries.The very fact that humans have been seeking the truth for so long is, to me, strangely encouraging (though it can be the reverse, I know). This is one aspect of what I mean by ‘story’. The instinct is there in the human race to set experience in some ineffable context called ‘meaning’. That is story. If I am with Martel on anything, then it is equating this dimension of existence that is story with ‘god’. But I don’t see this as a perception that should be owned by anyone, and especially not any organised religion. Finally and coming back to the original premise or thoughts on this thread – I don’t have a problem with atheists – they become noticeable only when they want force there views on everybody else. Wasn’t there a poster campaign on the London Underground recently?I think this is a crucial point. I’m not even sure there’s anything wrong with being visible, but I suppose I do tend to find discretion admirable, even though I seem to lack it myself. Anyway, religions and philosophies of all kinds are necessarily judged on those adherents who are most visible, but, being most visible they are not necessarily most representative, and are even unlikely to be so.This is fascinating. If I understand correctly (I probably don’t, to be honest), you are able to see your life as an ongoing story, a work of fiction, with a termination point (Finis) somewhere in the future, unplanned and random? In the lap of the Gods?I suppose I wouldn’t have put it that way, but reading this again now, I can’t exactly deny it, either. There are numerous points to be made in qualification, however, such as the fact that I don’t think my life as I experience it is a very good story, at all, but there is a faculty for story-perception and story-making in my head that takes threads of things that I’ve observed and tends to weave them together. This is all that makes life bearable to me. I’m not interested, for instance, in soap operas, because they never seem to show the interior life of any of the characters. To many people, it is event that is story. To me, it is interior life. I suppose this is why I tend to favour Eastern literature over Western. Sometimes the insistence on a rattling good plot really narks me off. It’s just how someone once described history: “One damned thing after another”, I believe.Event is important, too, but if all you have is suspense, when you get to the end you’re actually left with nothing. There has to be something else there.Question: If your life is a “story”, who then is the author?Who am I? I don’t know. I tell a story. If I know who I am at all, that is how I know.But perhaps it’s not me that’s telling the story at all. We’re back to the question, who am I? Or, who is ‘me’?Is this not the point (at least in part) Lewis Carroll made in the HUNTING OF THE SNARK? I’ll have to re-read it. Someone once gave me the present of a copy of Alice in Wonderland with the inscription, “This book contains all you need to know.” Philosophy is only problematic when it’s disconnected from the human, the subjective, the ephemeral. But, when combined with story and with human experience, philosophy can go beyond mere conjecture and instead become a mode of wonder… which is touched upon in the video you linked. I think I like philosophy most when it is poetic, which seems to be similar to what you are saying here.I don’t know if all of this is bad. Civiization is a fascinating experiment. My point is simply about the power of stories. Civilization is built on a specific narrative. One of the variations of this narrative is Manifest Destiny and another variation is the the hero/savior. I entirely believe that who controls the stories will control society. That is why corporations have bought up most of the media and are steadily putting local media out of business.Yes, it is, at least, an interesting experiment. I hope it is or can become more than that. There’s the question of whether anything can really change. It is encouraging to think (and here I seem to differ from Chesterton and others who see human nature as immutable, though I sympathise with them) that consciousness has not always existed as it does today, that change has occured before and so, presumably, may do so again. I would like it if life were not simply one thing after another. I do understand that many, many people have died while looking and hoping for something else. Still… I am interested in the possibility that there might be real change and an end to the nightmare of linear time, perhaps – perhaps – even in our lifetimes.
Originally posted by quentinscrisp:“I don’t really know what I think of Nabokov on the whole…”He IS God! (one of them, at any rate).Also originally posted by quentinscrisp:“The instinct is there in the human race to set experience in some ineffable context called ‘meaning’. That is story. If I am with Martel on anything, then it is equating this dimension of existence that is story with ‘god’.”We can, it’s true, stand via “story” as witness to all that exists or is ever likely to exist. Yet, still, despite this, hidden by the shadows of everything we see, there is something at the periphery of vision, unseen, unrecognised, but sensed – despite evolution, despite constant transformations of appearance and essence – this “something” lurks like both the beginning and the ending of days, and as a species we cower from it and call it God.As for my own life, it resembles nothing more than one of those two thousand page blockbusters, you know the sort? Too thick to ever “read” but really handy to use as a doorstop. Again originally posted by quentinscrisp:“But perhaps it’s not me that’s telling the story at all. We’re back to the question, who am I? Or, who is ‘me’?”An interesting question. I look at a photograph of myself at eight years of age and identify it as “me”. But there isn’t a single atom in that child that can be found in “me” as I am now. Identity, therefore, is a bit of a fraud. We may none of us be quite who we think we are.It is simple (complex?) facts such as these that serve to remind us that we must mainly ignore these “truths” in order to function as human beans.And yet again originally posted by quentinscrisp:“Still… I am interested in the possibility that there might be real change and an end to the nightmare of linear time, perhaps – perhaps – even in our lifetimes.”And we may learn that “time” is multi-faceted and that it only exists where there are stars. Other parts of the Universe may well be “timeless”. And where time does exist, it may not “match” time as we experience it here on earth.