Archives for category: Philosophy

I have already written a post about the meaning of life, and I stand by my assertion that meaning is derived from our passionate emotions, but I have a read a bit more about it, and wish to delve deeper into the subject.

Victor Frankl is a Jewish man who survived the Nazi concentration camps. As a psychologist, he was able to use his time in various camps to make observations about the people he was surrounded by. His most important discovery was that those prisoners who had hope, who found meaning even among the horror that inundated them, were able to survive longer than those who gave in to despair. Frankl’s meaning came from the love of his wife, and that love nourished his spirit to overcome the crushing emptiness that threatened to engulf him at any moment.

One of the quotations from his book, Man’s Search for Meaning, reads that  “meaning is available in spite of – nay even through- suffering, provided … that the suffering is unavoidable. If it is avoidable, the meaningful thing to do is to remove its cause, for unnecessary suffering is masochistic rather than heroic. If, on the other hand, one cannot change a situation that causes his suffering, he can still choose his attitude.”

Frankl discusses a conversation he had with a journalist who tells him the story of a Jew who raised armed rebellion against his Nazi captors, calling him a hero, and Frankl tells the journalist that to pick up and shoot a weapon is no big act of courage, but that to hold one’s head high with dignity as one is marched into the gas chambers, that is heroic.

After having survived arguably one of the worst tortures that humanity has inflicted upon itself, Frankl came home to discover that his wife had not survived her own captivity. Many Jews were destroyed not just by the holocaust, but from escaping it only to realize that the hope they had clung to was only a fool’s hope, and the meaninglessness of their suffering came down upon them in full force.

Frankl endured this holocaust aftershock, though many didn’t, and went on to create something called Logotherapy: a method of therapy where an individual is helped find meaning in their life in order to alleviate even physical symptoms that nihilism can inflict on a human being. He theorizes that there are three sources of meaning: in work (doing something significant), in love (caring for another person) or in courage during difficult times.

This theory lines up almost perfectly with my own. The significance of the work must of course be significant to the individual, as someone might be able to find meaning just as much in delivering the newspaper as in organizing the events that would be written about in one. This would be derived from the passion they feel for their work. Not just love, as the activist would be driven by righteous indignation or the athlete by competitive determination, but by any emotion strong enough to make the work worthwhile.

Albert Camus’ Sisyphus conquers his trial by realizing that the meaninglessness of his endeavour can be overcome by owning it through powerful emotion, and continuing on. It is his spite for the gods that enables him to find meaning in his trivial task. In his essay The Myth of Sisyphus, Camus states, “There is no fate that cannot be surmounted by scorn.”

Why is it important to find meaning in suffering? Well, because life is full of it.

Arthur Schopenhauer suggests that all of life is built upon striving. We are continually moving towards something, and if we are not, we become bored. Because striving is based upon a lack, there is an inherently negative aspect of life that we must constantly deal with. Even happiness, Schopenhauer suggests, is based upon a lack being fulfilled (not a positive, but merely the nullification of a negative) and we experience a brief euphoria before inevitably returning to our natural state of striving for something new, or risk falling into boredom.

Or in Buddhism, it is suggested that all life is suffering because we are attached to ephemeral things, and so life is a series of losses of those things that we cling to.

Is meaning only available during those brief moments of happiness when our attachments are still with us, or we’ve achieved the thing that we were striving for? Is life going from one stepping stone to the next, the spaces in between being devoid of any value? Or do we give up our attachments, give up our goals, and become shells of human beings; serene, but empty?

Whether you agree that all of life is built upon suffering or not, it is undeniable that suffering plays a major role in human existence. Meaning in suffering is imperative because that is when we need it most. Meaning can be derived in the form of works; using the passionate emotion of suffering to construct or create, letting it drive us. Or using another of our passions to sustain us, to endure the hardship. Or simply to hold our heads high, and face our suffering with dignity.

I know what you’re thinking. Everything is science! When an apple falls from a tree, that’s science. When the morning sun crests over the horizon  welcoming a new day, the earth’s rotation and the sun’s rays refracting through the atmosphere create a beautiful sunrise: that’s science. How can somebody not believe in a sunrise? Well, the sunrise can suck it.

Science was invented when people discovered that perception was flawed. You put a stick in water, and it looks like it bends. Reality has made you look foolish by telling your brain to interpret this straight stick as bendy. Since reality likes to laugh right in our faces at how stupid we are, we invented science in order to wage unholy war against it. But first, we needed to make something up in order to create science, and what we came up with was numbers.

You see, numbers don’t actually exist. There is no evidence of numbers in nature. Numbers are a human construct created in order to understand the universe. There are ten fingers on our hands only because we created the concept of the number ten in order to explain those silly pointy things sticking out of the end part of our arms.

A byproduct of this human creation is time. There are no days; we just live on a spinny orb thingy that occasionally faces something really bright and hot. Matter moves about, decays, and dies, and we came up with this neato little tool called time in order to measure that transformation of matter. However, it’s not actually real, it’s just a thing we came up with to explain why sometimes it’s dark and sometimes it’s light, and why when you throw enough of those dark/light thingies together, eventually you’ll die. I guess we found these explanations soothing.

The most critical aspect of science is measuring things. If there was no measurement, there would be no science. However, all forms of measurement, be they physical or chronological, are human constructions. They’re made up. They’re not real. And since they are our own fictions, the rules that we create for them will work 100% of the time because they exist within their own realm of abstract thought. 2 + 2 = 4 because our concept of the number two, and another of our concept of the number two add up to the abstract concept known as the number four. Pi works for finding out shit about circles because the circle is a mathematical construction created within the realm of numbers; ie. it doesn’t exist. It’s the equivalent of saying that Jesus Christ can be both the God and the son of God at the same time because within the realm of Christianity, those concepts make sense. God + Son of God + Holy Spirit = God. If that doesn’t make sense to you, it’s because you are not approaching it from within the realm of Christianity.

The rules of math work within the realm of math, just as the rules of Christianity work within the realm of Christianity. The mathematician will point to a single rock and say, that is one rock, and the Christian will point to the rock and say that it is a creation of the Lord and it took Him a day to do it. Meanwhile, reality will say it’s just a rock.

Scientists even know this. Any scientific theory, when applied to actual reality rather than safely residing on a piece of thesis, will necessarily have a margin of error. To calculate something perfectly is impossible, due to the fictional nature of our measuring tools, and accommodation must be made for this if a practical use of science is to be implemented.

Think of real life. You can tell a person from Siberia what warmth is, and even if they fully understand how speeding up particles will increase their temperature, they won’t actually understand until they move to literally anywhere else and experience it. Think of meeting a pretty new girl (or boy, I just happen to be a boy so this gendered story works for me). Is liking her a series of complicated chemical reactions in the brain, or is it listening to the same song over and over because it reminds you of her, and waking up each morning and having your first thoughts be of her?

A sunrise isn’t science; science is only the explanation of the sunrise. A sunrise is a sunrise. Explanations are interchangeable. Liking a pretty girl can be explained either by chemical reactions in the brain, or by Eros shooting you with an arrow. Within the paradigm of each, the rules will always make sense. It is life that is constant. It is life that is real.

Post-script: I anticipate (and genuinely hope) that science nerds will get upset over this. I’m not saying that science is a bad explanation. Science is actually a very good explanation. However, it is only an explanation, and my point is that life should take precedence over the explanations for it, because explanations all have inherent flaws within them.

This isn’t out of my brain, but from a film from 1968 called The Committee. It provides quite a bit to think about, as well as having a delightful psychedelic element to it. The musical score in the background is Pink Floyd. You can either watch it here, or read my transcript. Or both!

I don’t mean to sound like a snob, but that man, worrying about his car, you know what I mean, he’s not alive. If you can do what you say, why don’t you wake him up?

Just tell me what happened.

You could ask him, but he couldn’t tell you. That’s the point, isn’t it? He couldn’t tell you.

Can you tell me?

I can tell you this. In that car there was nothing, see, nothing, just talk. It’s fair to say, isn’t it, that a man like that doesn’t think. He doesn’t really feel. He goes through the motions of being human because nobody told him different.

Look, you may be the best surgeon in town, but you’re not making yourself very clear. What doesn’t he think?

OK, for all I know he might be a very clever and successful person.

Successful in whose terms?

In our terms.

His terms don’t matter?

Yes, in some sense they don’t matter. I know that sounds awful, I probably don’t even mean it. Maybe I have the whole thing wrong. The only thing to do is to try to make things better.

In whose terms?

Look, I’d like to explain to you about that guy. He’s enclosed in himself. He goes on and on, I get the feeling that he just isn’t concerned. Concerned with other people. I mean, everything else is a matter of taste, a matter of opinion. But if anyone can live on this earth and not care about other people.

So you cut his head off. The thing you really seem to hold against him is typified by what you did to him.

I did nothing to him. He’s okay. I put it back on. The head, I mean.

His head.

Yeah, I put the right head back on. In that car I was suffocating. Not just there, lots of times. We’re helpless really. You as well.

If we are helpless, then we are not responsible. But there is a difference between things. I can hold my breath, but my blood flows regardless.

You can hold your breath for a little while, but if you stop the blood flowing, that’s for good.

In the womb, the baby thinks that it’s the universe, and when the baby is born there is a glimmer of light. “I was there, but now I am here. So now there are two things: me, and the universe. The universe is there for me.”

Then what happens?

Other people. That’s what happens. I’m skipping the details, just hitting the main points. Other people. In thought you can try to clear the deck, but in practice, there is a lot of history. In a way, you sell yourself, but the universe is there for you. Now tell me what happened in the glade.

I did something to myself; like entertainment, like amusement, like a daydream. There was nothing there, and I saw something. I saw his head under the bonnet of the car. You can say what you like, but I saw the Bird of Paradise spread its wings.

And the suffocating? Are you still suffocating?

Not now. Not just now.

Can you put yourself in my shoes? Can you picture how it looks to me?

You know, that’s the one thing I can’t do.

Why can’t you put yourself in my shoes? Because it would mean eliminating me, in effect killing me? Or are you afraid to see yourself? And who am I?

You’re the director. Of the committee. You are the state. The trouble is that before the conversation even begins everything has been said.

Ten years from now, there will be a person wandering around, and people will say that it is you. Now they say that it will be you, but what really is your obligation to him? Suppose he starves. Does that bother you? Can you experience his pleasures?

In a way, yes.

Like you can experience mine? What is the difference between your relation to yourself in the future, and other people now?

I may be the director of a committee in the future… I can’t think anymore. There is something that we’re driving at, but I can’t see what it is.

Do you believe that I have access to knowledge? That I understand something about society?

Yes.

Do you want me to stop the games and just come out with it?

Yes.

Suppose I were to tell you, just like that, in a phrase. Do you have any idea what it would sound like? Do you think you could understand it? Do you have any idea what it would be? Would it even be a sound? What would it look like? Could you even recognize it? And would it always be the same?

I can tell you one thing. You’re just as much a part of it as me, and him.

What interests me about authority is the fakery, and what interests me about rejection of authority is also the fakery.

I think the whole world is a mad house. An extended mad house.

Is that a way of saying that *you* are mad?

As long as the dialogue goes on, there’s a chance of rationality.

Not everyone would agree with that. Let me ask you a question; suppose we could get far enough away from human society to observe it with detachment. What would it look like? A mold? A colony of bacteria going through the familiar phases?

And if so, what would we do about it? Try to break the ghastly chain?

With what means?

You would have to understand the process, or else just lash out, strike at something.

It’s late in the day. Maybe too late. I’d suggest we look for the best shortcut.

Back to the lodge?

Yes, if you like. Back to the lodge.

It’s obvious that my contract with society was not total. I may have cut my head off and put it back on again, but the wound didn’t close up completely. Not completely.

Some people think that the criminals and the mad are the real heroes.

Why not in a corrupt world? In a pointless and vicious society?

But in a reasonable society?

There are no criminals.

So one criminal act can turn a reasonable society into an unreasonable one.

And back again.

To the lodge?

Yes, if you like.