Last class, we discussed Albert Einstein as the "good genius" foil to Adolf Hitler. But I don't think that just because Einstein's genius didn't lead to genocide that we can necessarily classify it as good. Einstein's theory of relativity certainly increased our understanding, but did it do anything to better the lives of his contemporaries? And was that ever his goal?
I would argue that if we view Einstein's genius in the common interpretation of good (that is, what Nietzsche would view as the slave interpretation of "good"), then he is at best a "neutral genius." He did not aim to help anyone, and outside of helping increase understanding, he did not help anyone. Thus, whether we take a Kantian or Utilitarian view of morality, Einstein's accomplishments were neither good nor bad.
With a few exceptions, the same can be said of most geniuses. In exercising their exceptionalism, the genius doesn't look to help those less fortunate--they simply strive to be the greatest that they can be. Einstein's development of the theory of relativity was pure intellectual pursuit, not a result of his care for others. Thus, if we want to classify any geniuses as "good" geniuses, we must adopt the noble understanding of good, and abandon the slave conception of it.
Friday, November 15, 2013
Genius, Morality & Existentialism
During his lecture, McMahon brought up one of
Pseudo-Aristotle’s (thought to be Aristotle until recently discovered not to
be) observations on geniuses. In Problem 30, the author says something along
the lines of 'Why are all outstanding men in philosophy or politics or
literature or in the arts obvious melancholics, and in fact some of them to the
extent that they have succumbed to the symptoms which arise from black bile?'
McMahon then discussed how the humours, or bodily liquids, were once used to
explain a person’s temperament. Here however, it seems as though
Pseudo-Aristotle uses a humourous lens to look at genius, suggesting that there
is a type of madness associated with genius. This passage reminded me of the
tormented intellect, the darkness and sadness that is so often witnessed in
brilliant people, such as many of the philosophers we read. But McMahon did not
go on to the explore a possible pattern of depression among geniuses. Instead,
he took a different approach, returning to this dark side of genius by describing
the divine power of the genius to both create and to destruct. This potential for good or evil separates geniuses
into heroes and villains, as McMahon’s examples of Einstein and Hitler
demonstrates.
I think there’s an interesting parallel in this potential
for both bad and good that lies in the genius, alongside the infinite
possibilities that the existentialist faces. Just as the genius transcends
societal norms of behavior, beliefs, and morality, the existentialist must
create his or her own values as well. Both the genius and the existentialist
seem to comprehend that make-or-break moment—to go to the good side or the bad.
For existentialism, it occurs when confronting the ethical implications of our
freedom. Perhaps the Einsteinian existentialist would look something like
Simone de Beauvoir, who embraces our moral freedom and insisting on moral
responsibility. On the other hand, the Hitler existentialist might also be a
nihilist.
Another similarity is the tension between the individual and
the They. We can see how the category genius rests upon a fundamental
assumption of inequality, as the genius must stand out from the rest of
humanity. Over and over again, existentialists address the tension between the
individual and the world one’s thrown into. It appears between Heidegger’s DaSein
and Das Man, as well as in the singularity of every person’s ownmost
possibility of death. While I don’t think existentialism is necessarily anti-democratic,
I think these connections with genius are fascinating.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
What is Absurd?
So at the beginning of our discussion of the absurd--which we knew had much to do with the question of existence--I had a little trouble distinguishing between the absurd and the inexplicable or the irrational. I want to explore the differences a little here (and there are other similar concepts as well if you care to explore them).
I'll start with the inexplicable. The example I mistook for absurdity--the dice rolling onto one side which is completely by chance but nonetheless occurred while the others did not--is just void of explanation. But perhaps we would say that it doesn't really demand an explanation. But maybe something must demand a meaningful explanation and simultaneously be inexplicable to be absurd...
The irrational would be that which is not graspable by human reason. Paradoxes are good examples: a square circle. But merely being inconceivable by our reason is not absurd. Perhaps the absurd could be a paradox that for some reason needs to be embraced, like Abraham's leap of faith.
So...the absurd...
Maybe the absurd is inexplicable and irrational, but first and foremost draws us towards some end that can never be reached. We posit meaning onto the world constantly and cannot fail to do so, but at the same time we must take the meaning to be prescriptive, we must (for some reason) take that meaning to be something externally real. In this case we are drawn to posit values and to take them as some sort of ontological finality, but of course they are not and they are fluid and ever-changing as soon as we settle into values. But to be values, it seems, we must take them to be somehow real outside of ourselves. We also keep asking why? And as the book points out, no explanation actually seems final to us. Imagine some explanation of everything (or even of something very specific, like "why must I write this blog post?")...now is there no other "why" you could ask? I can't imagine such a final explanation, but of course, we continuously ask why and are driven by wonder in much of our daily lives. Any other ideas of how to describe the absurd? Do I have the concept right?
I'll start with the inexplicable. The example I mistook for absurdity--the dice rolling onto one side which is completely by chance but nonetheless occurred while the others did not--is just void of explanation. But perhaps we would say that it doesn't really demand an explanation. But maybe something must demand a meaningful explanation and simultaneously be inexplicable to be absurd...
The irrational would be that which is not graspable by human reason. Paradoxes are good examples: a square circle. But merely being inconceivable by our reason is not absurd. Perhaps the absurd could be a paradox that for some reason needs to be embraced, like Abraham's leap of faith.
So...the absurd...
Maybe the absurd is inexplicable and irrational, but first and foremost draws us towards some end that can never be reached. We posit meaning onto the world constantly and cannot fail to do so, but at the same time we must take the meaning to be prescriptive, we must (for some reason) take that meaning to be something externally real. In this case we are drawn to posit values and to take them as some sort of ontological finality, but of course they are not and they are fluid and ever-changing as soon as we settle into values. But to be values, it seems, we must take them to be somehow real outside of ourselves. We also keep asking why? And as the book points out, no explanation actually seems final to us. Imagine some explanation of everything (or even of something very specific, like "why must I write this blog post?")...now is there no other "why" you could ask? I can't imagine such a final explanation, but of course, we continuously ask why and are driven by wonder in much of our daily lives. Any other ideas of how to describe the absurd? Do I have the concept right?
Judge Holden, a More Sinister Great Rejectionist
"Your heart's desire is to be told some mystery. The mystery is that there is no mystery." -Judge Holden, Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian.
Time and time again throughout Holt's "Why Does the World Exist?" the reader is pulled dangerously near to the precipice of meaninglessness or at least non-answerability, but Holt himself shies away from this option instinctually, even in the face of Grunbaum's supposedly "airtight" argument for the incoherence of the question "why is there something rather than nothing?" Holt's reason for rejecting this fatalism is apparently just a "feeling," but I wonder where that feeling comes from and what it's significance is. It made me think of McCarthy's character of Judge Holden, an intensely immoral man who uses cosmic nihilism to justify (or reject the need to justify) horrific acts of violence. At least in Blood Meridian, we see a direct thematic connection between someone believing that life is meaningless and acting evilly. Clearly though, in real life, Grunbaum is not so monstrous, and I doubt that Holt fears becoming a monster himself if he were to embrace the illegitimacy of a meaningful answer. Instead, perhaps his fear lies in our perceptions of how we view those with nihilistic predilections. In McCarthy's novel, Holden's nihilism both informs his evilness and describes it for us as readers (it causes and is caused by); this notion of nihilism as leading toward evil is used by McCarthy to further characterize Holden because McCarthy recognizes in us an innate aversion to nihilism. I counter that nihilism is not the cause of evil actions, but instead a retroactive justification. It is inherently innocent and is nothing more to be feared than any other explanatory reason for an action, and likewise in the search for answers as to "why is there something rather than nothing," it should be regarded without such bias against it (although it goes without saying that using it as an excuse to cease searching is less than desirable).
Time and time again throughout Holt's "Why Does the World Exist?" the reader is pulled dangerously near to the precipice of meaninglessness or at least non-answerability, but Holt himself shies away from this option instinctually, even in the face of Grunbaum's supposedly "airtight" argument for the incoherence of the question "why is there something rather than nothing?" Holt's reason for rejecting this fatalism is apparently just a "feeling," but I wonder where that feeling comes from and what it's significance is. It made me think of McCarthy's character of Judge Holden, an intensely immoral man who uses cosmic nihilism to justify (or reject the need to justify) horrific acts of violence. At least in Blood Meridian, we see a direct thematic connection between someone believing that life is meaningless and acting evilly. Clearly though, in real life, Grunbaum is not so monstrous, and I doubt that Holt fears becoming a monster himself if he were to embrace the illegitimacy of a meaningful answer. Instead, perhaps his fear lies in our perceptions of how we view those with nihilistic predilections. In McCarthy's novel, Holden's nihilism both informs his evilness and describes it for us as readers (it causes and is caused by); this notion of nihilism as leading toward evil is used by McCarthy to further characterize Holden because McCarthy recognizes in us an innate aversion to nihilism. I counter that nihilism is not the cause of evil actions, but instead a retroactive justification. It is inherently innocent and is nothing more to be feared than any other explanatory reason for an action, and likewise in the search for answers as to "why is there something rather than nothing," it should be regarded without such bias against it (although it goes without saying that using it as an excuse to cease searching is less than desirable).
Managing Genius
As discussed in class on Thursday, if genius is the creation/begetting of entirely new structures, then the quality of its manifesting is therefore socially contingent. For example, the genius of Hitler was dependent upon an already existing economic/nationalistic depression as well as history of Jewish oppression. Arguably, were Hitler born in another spatial or temporal condition, he would not have been capable of amassing his 3rd Reich.
However, the capacity, the actual structure of genius is not socially contingent; rather, as long as there exist social norms there exists the possibility of genius. And considering social organisation has been a permanent feature of human history, it seems that the creation of normative behaviour is, too, essential to the human experience. Indeed, Heidegger’s concept of Das Man would corroborate this. Anyway, if normative behaviour is essential, than though the manifestation of genius cannot be guaranteed to occur, it can neither be guaranteed not to occur.
However, through manipulating social construction, though we cannot generate genius itself, we can encourage types of genius from manifesting or remaining dormant. In this sense, I mean to say that we can incentivise divergent thinking in some arenas, and discourage it in others (also, allow me to caveat that I am attaching no moral value to types of genius). Take for example how we have constructed our political system: in a representational form of governance, those who strive to hold political office must be comfortable with, if not thrive upon, making decisions that have immediate and serious consequences on complete strangers’ lives. Moreover, in order to remain sane enough to complete average everyday tasks, a politician must unflinchingly make these decisions; there is a necessary degree of detachment from the lives of strangers needed in order to enact such unilateral consequences. I would venture to say it would be impossible to digest the input of every constituent in, say, a congressional district (nonetheless an entire city, state, or even nation). Thus, it is evident that our political structure encourages, if not demands, that our leaders be sociopathological, which is often a crucial ingredient in genius. To be sociopathological, one is able to consider possibilities others would conceive of as morally/socially unthinkable, and vice versa. Literally, sociopaths live their lives thinking “outside the box.”
But to the contrary, consider the type of genius that an anarchistic political organisation would allow - or more importantly, would not allow - to manifest. If in an anarchistic community, power is evenly distributed amongst constituents, then theoretically, every member is as responsible for the condition of the community as the next member. Therefore, sociopathy would be a highly disadvantageous behaviour, and would in turn be marginalised. Though structurally, genius cannot be prevented from occurring, its societal reception and reaction can be affected.
Friday, November 8, 2013
What's wrong with being simple?
The other day in class I really left considering what's wrong with being simple. I couldn't remember where exactly I had first learned about the idea of simplicity, but then, after some google searching, I remembered the term Occam's Razor and learning about that in Newman's course on mind and consciousness. You would think that something like the mind would require a really complex explanation as to how it processes the world around it. Maybe you do in the context of neuroscience, but even then, it would make sense to "shave off" the frivolous details. What do these details do other than keep us weighted down in unnecessary tangents and confusions? But, at the same time, what if these superfluous details have some meaningful relation to the problem as a whole? What if cutting these seemingly unnecessary aspects would actually prevent humanity from fully understanding something like the mind, or other philosophical quandaries?
A parsimonious way of going about things is making the decision that the most simple, yet also correct, answer can be considered more rational than the more complicated answer. While I don't think I have enough understanding on the subject, I think it is a fairly easy idea to grasp that if something can be explained fully AND simply, then, on a grander human scale, that explanation should be celebrated and disseminated for the sake of greater understanding. Further, I would much rather opt for a simpler, almost humbler explanation for the mind, rather than a convoluted and hard to follow explanation if both say exactly the same thing. By starting small and getting a better grasp on an easier to digest explanation, that would allow for a greater number of people to take that information and build upon it in a progressive, yet easy to digest manner.
The subject of parsimony or simplicity is a necessary conversation to have when dealing with the idea of freedom. I'm excited to begin our class discussions on Why the World Exists.
A parsimonious way of going about things is making the decision that the most simple, yet also correct, answer can be considered more rational than the more complicated answer. While I don't think I have enough understanding on the subject, I think it is a fairly easy idea to grasp that if something can be explained fully AND simply, then, on a grander human scale, that explanation should be celebrated and disseminated for the sake of greater understanding. Further, I would much rather opt for a simpler, almost humbler explanation for the mind, rather than a convoluted and hard to follow explanation if both say exactly the same thing. By starting small and getting a better grasp on an easier to digest explanation, that would allow for a greater number of people to take that information and build upon it in a progressive, yet easy to digest manner.
The subject of parsimony or simplicity is a necessary conversation to have when dealing with the idea of freedom. I'm excited to begin our class discussions on Why the World Exists.
Friday, November 1, 2013
Objectification: It is what it is....or is it?
Per yesterdays’ class discussion, “the gaze” is composed of
two components: the possessor and the receiver. Within the context of feminist and critical race theories, the possessor of the gaze is
also known as “the looker”, and is usually someone in a position of social power
and/or privilege where the receiver of the gaze, also known as “the looked at”,
is typically someone who is socially disenfranchised. As a product of the gaze,
there is this experience of freedoms being reduced to en-soi. In thinking about the gaze and how it is the possession of
the privilege, is it possible for the objectified to in turn existentially objectify their oppressors?
A moment of transparency…In my personal experience of
encountering race and racial hierarchies, I fall into the category of the
racially oppressed. Similar to Fanon, although not as blatant, I am stripped of
my ability to transcend aspects of my being only to be essentialized as the sum
of only one aspect—my phenotype. Because I am aware of the uneasiness my
physical presence may cause, I am constantly subjugated to considering how
others, usually my White counterparts, perceive and encounter me without being
familiar with the behaviors, actions, and thoughts that constitute my
personality. As a result of external and internal objectification, I often find
that I in turn objectify my White counterparts. In some instances, I perceive
and encounter White people to be nothing more than physical manifestations of
my social oppression; their physicality gets equated with ill-gotten privilege
and power, and they do not shed this essence until I become familiar with the
person they are.
I’ve shared the information above so as to offer an instance
in which the objectified can in turn objectify the oppressor. My point of
inquiry is whether or not my "reverse" objectification constitutes effective and legitimate
objectification. Or I have I engaged in pseudo-objectification due to the
fact that it exists within the confines of an environment that benefits the
racially privileged?
Share your thoughts with me. Are there legitimate and
illegitimate forms of objectification? If so, are such conditions contingent on
varying circumstances?
-Omolola A.
-Omolola A.
Ethics and Existentialism
I’ve
been feeling a bit murky around the combination of ethics and existentialism. I
am currently in Dr. J’s ethics class as well, as this week we’ve been reading
Sartre’s Being and Nothingness. So I’ve gotten double Sartre but I think I’ve
needed it to understand where and how de Beauvoir gets to an ‘ethics of
ambiguity’. In class on Tuesday we read a passage from Beauvoir in which she
claims that existentialism is the only philosophy in which an ethics has its
place. My reaction was simply, 1) why? and 2) well then, what the hell have I
been doing in ethics?
So
I’ll tell you, briefly. We started with Plato, for who immorality and injustice
could be explained by a disordered soul. Then we did Aristotle, who indicated
that a person’s wrongs can be explained by their lack of virtue. Virtue depends
on practical reason, which involves developing habits in one’s actions. According
to this theory, one could justify an injustice by saying, “he didn’t know any
better.” Next we did Epicurus and Epictetus. According to Epictetus/Stoicism, a
divine reason exists to relieve us of our own responsibility, and we act well
if we act in accordance with reason. Epicurus claimed that the good exists in
happiness and pleasure, and that we ought to seek this out and avoid pain.
Done.
This
later develops into Utilitarianism. Mill provided us with the Utilitarian
calculus to simplify the process of deciding what’s right and wrong, according
to the Greatest Happiness Principle. Looking back now, it almost seems like a
commercial advertising something to solve all your problems. His contender was
Kant, and we all know about the categorical imperative. We also know that
Sartre was fundamentally inspired by Kantian philosophy, but even Kant depended
a priori reason.
So far what all of these theories
offer is either a rational principle, or a divine order, to explain ethical authority.
These outside factors take the responsibility of morality. But as we well know
now, Sartre and other existentialists posit that you decide what is good or bad, and that you and only you are right or wrong. But is it
even possible to be right or wrong in this case then? While we set our projects
and choose anything, we simultaneously choose against everything else. Sartre’s
theory of no innocent victims gets at this idea that one can never be right
because one is always wrong too. This is why morality and ethics become
ambiguous for existentialists. I’m not sure why this took me so long to wrap my
head around, but the idea of being both right and wrong, of choosing not be to
morally responsible for anything else while we choose to be morally responsible
for something, finally connected ethics and existentialism for me.
Can Existentialism Make Ethical Claims?
So I’m at an existential impasse at the moment. From the existentialists we’ve read thus far, in particular Sartre and Beauvoir, there seems to me a tension between the singularity of the individual and the idea of “the elaboration of an ethics” (from The Ethics of Ambiguity; pg 295 of Solomon). What I’m having trouble resolving is the idea that one must individually derive meaning and morality from existence, and yet that “Existentialism alone gives - like religions - a real role to evil” (from The Ethics of Ambiguity; pg 295 of Solomon). Without there being a sort of categorical imperative, a universal ethic, etc etc, how can one give substance to this idea of “evil”? Essentially, I have yet to see how existentialist circumvent (or if they do at all) moral relativism ad nauseam.
However, one train of thought I’ve had on this issue has been that perhaps Existentialism can permit an ethic based on the respect of every human’s subjectivity. In other words, that Existentialism is concerned with the subjectivity of the human, there is a sort of moral presupposition that every individual’s subjectivity be respected and maintained. To objectify and dehumanise is to detract from one’s ability to engage with reality. What was most salient about The Ethics of Ambiguity was Beauvoir’s idea that “the freedom of man is infinite, but his power is limited” (from The Ethics of Ambiguity; pg 294 of Solomon). In other words, freedom is the ability for one to set projects, though power is the likelihood that the particular project will yield desired results. Thus, objectification and dehumanisation results in the draining of one’s power, literally disempowerment.
From this, then, the existentialist morality is one that upholds that every individual be entitled to the equal power of freedom. If this is the case, it makes clear sense why Existentialism could so easily be a platform for Feminism, Marxism/Socialism, Black Power, and all other libertarian schools of thought. In fact, would then not logically follow that the pure political embodiment of Existentialism be Anarchism? Anarchism objects at any concentration of power, as to concentrate power for this entity requires that one take power away from that entity. And if the underlying moral consequence of Existentialism is that every individual be given equal power, that it, too, must object concentrations of power.
So what do y’all think? Can Existentialism make any universal claims? And if so, is that universal claim that every human’s freedom be given equal power?
Maybe we HAVE to be Gazed at...
So...The Gaze is a sort of sinister, creepy idea. I am not quite sure how I feel about the fact that we are almost never NOT under the Gaze in some sense. First of all, we spend the first years upon years of our lives living with a family and attending school with others...real alone time was not (probably?) frequent. Even now, more of our waking hours, I'm sure are spent WITH others than without others and this may continue to be true throughout our lives.
Now I know humans are social creatures. It could be argued that we NEED interaction--we NEED some sort of consistent Gaze--to be "fully" or "really" human. At the very least, we can say that being a part of some society does enable a human to do certain, I would argue, uniquely human things like conceptualize communicable meaning and use such communication to posit values. But discussing Fanon in class, we got a very clear sense of the trauma of the Gaze: it gives one a sense of being looked at as an object or like an inkwell is an inkwell and, most disturbingly, it opens the door for very real discrimination and abuse.
So where is the balance? Of course, Sartre posited a positive aspect of the negative objectification by saying something like "those moments of being under the Gaze force one outside of oneself, to look at oneself, and return to oneself in resolution" (totally my own words from class notes). Is this a hint as to how being under the Gaze for most of our lives is in fact not ALWAYS bad? Surely we would not say that being devalued and abused as a human being is necessary for "finding oneself," so can we really say the Gaze enables humanity? Am I wrong in trying to equate being-a-part-of-society with being-under-the-Gaze?
Now I know humans are social creatures. It could be argued that we NEED interaction--we NEED some sort of consistent Gaze--to be "fully" or "really" human. At the very least, we can say that being a part of some society does enable a human to do certain, I would argue, uniquely human things like conceptualize communicable meaning and use such communication to posit values. But discussing Fanon in class, we got a very clear sense of the trauma of the Gaze: it gives one a sense of being looked at as an object or like an inkwell is an inkwell and, most disturbingly, it opens the door for very real discrimination and abuse.
So where is the balance? Of course, Sartre posited a positive aspect of the negative objectification by saying something like "those moments of being under the Gaze force one outside of oneself, to look at oneself, and return to oneself in resolution" (totally my own words from class notes). Is this a hint as to how being under the Gaze for most of our lives is in fact not ALWAYS bad? Surely we would not say that being devalued and abused as a human being is necessary for "finding oneself," so can we really say the Gaze enables humanity? Am I wrong in trying to equate being-a-part-of-society with being-under-the-Gaze?
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