Modern expressions of innate sexual instincts

What percent of current political conditions results from the scaled up and transposed familiar instincts in men and women? Those instincts, at the most basic level of society, are fundamental. They’re hard coded into humanity. All subsequent levels of complexity build upon them and extrapolate them. And traditionally society was built from the bottom up, as it were. With the most activity and time and concern and action taking place at the bottom (because it was so time consuming and foundational) and gradually winnowing as it approached the top (where it collectively accumulates into large quantities in complex societies).

American law in particular was designed to favor a bottom up approach. The majority of law and action takes place at the local level, then you get to less specific, broader government at the state level, then even less specific and broader government at the national level. But the majority of the laws and their enforcement, the overall largest majority of government participants, is at the lowest and nearest level. So it only take a few people to represent a whole state at a national level, but hundreds at a state and local level.

But the world doesn’t stand still. Our government and our outlook, which has much greater powers for the viewing of accumulated rather than foundational power, has shifted to a top heavy approach. We believe more in the top than we do in the bottom levels of the structure. And we invest in and believe in the power, less and less, of the lowest level of government, the family. The individual is the fundamental component of all human social and governmental structures, but the first actual level of society and government in action is the family.

But, increasingly, family is a less important and less invested in part of our political life. We’re living in our minds at the top of the pyramid, because we don’t really have an much going on at the bottom level any more. Our relationships, marriage in particular, the most basic form of social contract and government, is in massive decline. Interactions between the sexes continue, but under much less formal or organized or unified terms. They consist more of short term alliances for temporary mutual benefit, rather than a unified grand project.

So conditions in the world have changed, but underlying instincts and energies in humans haven’t. So what new expressions have they found? Women are, as a class, far more agreeable and pro-social than men. They’re more concerned with safety, reduction of harm, standards of behavior, cultivation, and validation. So there are kind of two warring desires at play there. One is the desire to create a safe, protected, bountiful, provisional space, a home. But that requires a certain internal order be maintained. You can’t wreck up the house, you can’t bring chaotic or destructive or corrupting influences into it. It has to be kept clean and pure.

Measures of disgust and neuroticism also average higher in women than in men. They’re more bothered by elements that compromise the integrity of the protected space. So the desire to create a protected space, which is a benevolent desire, also carries with it a necessary sensitivity toward maintaining that space, that rejects anything that might disturb the peace. Roughhousing, dirty shoes, all those things that can upset the integrity and peace and security of the home are a problem. And women have, throughout history and across all cultures, been bothered by them. There are vulnerable people who we have great sympathy toward and investment in inside the house, and they need that secure, safe space to explore and grow.

So, the way you get women on your side is to make a case to them that you’re a vulnerable, growing, sympathetic organism who deserves to be inside their mental house. And they will take you in and start to build walls around you and protect your interests. On the downside, because their fundamental assumption is charitable, and their broad personality prejudices predispose them that way, they aren’t in the best position to challenge the assertions of legitimate need and expression and need for protection and good faith on the part of those they care for. You don’t question a baby whether it is right in demanding you care for it, however it rages. The assumption is that they are always right. Victimhood, vulnerability, need, and suffering are sufficient arguments in themselves to provide the desired care and protection, because the assumption is that the customer knows best. You assume that the child, by instinct, knows what they need, and their job is simply to convey those needs and vulnerabilities, and your job is to provide for them and protect them.

Since women, on a massive scale, no longer are nearly as invested in government of this kind at a familial level, there is a much much larger remainder of that built in energy that can be collected and expended at the cumulative societal level. Women won’t stop building protected spaces and playing house. That’s what they do. They will just do it at whatever level of expression is available to them. And currently the most technologically easy and obvious level, the level at which needs and dangers are most constantly shoved in your face at a daily level, is not the family but political society. So female political activitism absorbs the excess energies that changes in technology (from personal innovations that meet basic daily physical needs much more easily to things like the pill that greatly reduce the need for women to bear the burdens of reproduction) have freed up. So, in a way, the elevation of certain political concerns and approaches is a necessary consequences of decreased familiar investment by women requiring other avenues for dispersal and investment of excess human capital.

One of the things that most confuses cultural and historical perspectives is the failure to recognize the fundamental humanity of humans. Conditions change, technologies change, strategies change, religions change, relationships change. But men keep being men wherever they are. Women keep being women. Humans keep being religious. You can’t end any individual religion, it won’t prevent human beings from behaving in a religious manner. You can take away hunting and war from men, they’re still going to be men. You can take away the home and children from women, they will still be women. How men and women approached those respective challenges was shaped by their underlying character. Those conditions can change, and whatever it is they do in that situation will also be influenced by their underlying character. There was an error in assuming that one particular way of responding to particular set of conditions by men or women was itself the fact of men and women, that it was the underlying reality itself. That was mistaking the token for the type. And when we had a chance to look around the world and see that the type varied quite a bit (although it varied far, far less than one would ever predict if there were no udberlying reality), and when we had a chance to see conditions change rapidly as result of technology and history, we realized our mistake. But instead of learning the underlying lessons about what was driving those particular expressions, instead of exploring the deeper realities, we contented ourselves that the fall of the facade meant there was no building underneath.

As a result, we are continually shocked to find that women keep acting like women, despite conditions having changed, and men keep acting like men. They respond in their own unique ways, no matter how you attempt to transplant them. To be sure, they share much in common, and are much varied, but in collection if you present each with the same conditions you will not see identical responses. They have a character that is not so easily changed but rather adapts its expression to whatever situation it is confronted with.

Men, of course, have their own distinct character. They’re more disagreeable, tend more to extremes of outcome, experience less negative emotion, are more aggressive, less sociable, more competitive, less risk-averse, less conscientious (and also therefore have higher tolerances for disgust). So if you put men, alone, in charge of building a house, without any input or incentives from women, you’re going to get a very different kind of house. All-male societies do occur, and tend to look pretty different from how things look when the women show up. The military has been, throughout history, generally an all male society. The mining towns of the American frontier are a good example of men, and not only men but men isolated as such (adventurers and, on their own building a society. Eventually the women showed up, mostly in the form of prostitutes, but whatever their situation they were still women and started demanding things like schools and charity efforts and law and order and proper care given to material needs. And later, when the farmers and their families showed up things were quite different. The world of the mining town before those interventions was dangerous, competitive, raucous, risky, messy, extractive, opportunistic, individualistic, minted fortunes as well as ruined them, and had quite a focus on short term gains and pleasure. Of course, these were mostly single men looking to make their fortune in a dangerous and uncertain venture, not an average cross section of men, much less humanity. But they were still men, if somewhat extreme, untempered examples. A wilder companion to the more cooperative and regimented venturesome hierarchy of the military. (Our modern military is, in fact, quite a different beast from militaries of the past, being the product of long refinement and social feedback. If you want to picture a proper all-male military you’re better off picturing the Mongol Horde or the armies of Alexander than the American military.)

However different both might be, they reflect the male approach: willing to confront risk and danger for the chance of exceptional outcomes, highly competitive, willing to enter the wilderness to either bring something back or make something out of it (and themselves), pursue much fewer comforts and provisions for secondary needs, and are far more goal focused than socially focused.

So how might one describe such an approach?

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The seperation of reproduction and pleasure 

Do we need to ask, what are the possible long term psychological and sociological consequences of separating the pleasurable experiential functions of sex from its biological reproductive functions? Having cut the cord that united the two and divided them into separate categories by means of technology and cultural acclimation, what are the likely results to be, or what have they been, and should we be concerned? It is not unlike separating the pleasurable experiential content of food from its nutritive qualities. We haven’t been quite able to sever that tie technologically, but we have gone some way in severing it in our cultural attitudes. But imagine if we could separate the two. What shifts might occur, and what individual, relational, social, and biological consequences might result? What are the unforeseen effects of such a massive restructuring of one of the most fundamental aspects of human biology, psychology, and sociology?

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The value of symbols

An example of an essay in utero, not yet developed. Just a sketch of ideas and a framework of threads to follow.

The gods and their symbolic value

Pagans, not as dumb or as different as you think

The appropriate level for understanding and addressing reality

Where humans live

Culture heroes as a touch point of and embodiment of ideology

The ubiquity of mascots

The narrative nature of human cognition

The failure of modernity to provide a meaningful structure for addressing reality

Religious and philosophical language as metaphor

Metaphor as embodied, living ttuth

Scientific language as metaphor when it passes beyond perceptual experience

The appropriate language of thought

The psychological and emotional coherence of the gods

The substantive difference between understanding language as metaphor and language as literal

The forbidding against idols in Judaic religion (because God could literally not be captured or represented effective by them, acknowledging such symbols as metaphors), the birth of the modern approach to being in the unity of Jewish and Greek (who recognized the metaphorical nature of their own religious language) thought

The value of parents, and the failure of their substitutes

The great contribution of parenthood is the ability to convey the greatest depth of love in complement with the greatest of expectations. Nothing less is sufficient to raise human beings to their fullest potential. And neither separately is a stable strategy. It is only by advancing them together, in balance, that the greatest levels of growth are possible, and the primary productive limit of each is the measure you possess of the other. In other words, it is the relationship and dialogue between the parents that determines the potential of their products.

The reason the government makes such a poor substitute for either, is its inability to convey either love or expectations in meaningful way. It is hard to perceive the love and care in the bureaucracy of your monthly distribution of benefits from the state. The love of big brother is too distant and abstract to mean much. It is like the love of a cage wire mother monkey, dispensing milk but starving the sensibilities of those in its care. Similarly, the expectations of the state are too distant and inhuman to carry much weight, except their punitive value. They might convince you to do just enough to avoid punishment or earn basic rewards, but for most people will fail to profit much in their character. The courage of communism was a machine gun at your back. The enforced expectations of do or be punished, rather than internalized heroism.

Even in a less extreme culture, one like our own, the government is often provided as a remedy for those lacks in either support or expectation that exist in the lives of its citizens, either because they lack parents or because they lack parents able to effectively meet those needs (and one shouldn’t underestimate what a demanding and difficult job it is and what a hard balance it is to maintain). And although it is well and kindly meant, the government’s effectiveness as either caring mother or paternalistic father is very limited. The state can’t love you. Nor can it make you better than you are. Neither easy circumstances nor better character flow easily from the fountain of government administration. The view of the founding fathers was rather that the role of government was to protect the means of production, which belonged to the individual citizenry.

There is always a temptation to try to provide through administration what some miss by ill fortune. And it is kind to attempt to provide some of what a lack of motherhood or fatherhood has failed to produce. And I wish it were as simple as that. But several problems arise from trying to do so. First, people may not realize what it is that they are actually trying to replace. And if you don’t, you might misunderstand both the poverty you are attempting to fill and the solution you are attempting to provide. Both a misunderstood disease and a misunderstood virtue are terribly dangerous things to leverage the immense, blind power of the state for or against.

Second, people might have an inaccurate idea of how much the state is actually able to convey the benefits of the love and expectations of parents. They might believe that the state can and should be able to do it as good as, maybe even better, than individual humans. And they might be upset when the perceive the lackluster results and so misinterpret the reason for them. This will likely result in much outrage and wringing of hands, as well as manipulation of the system and its parameters. Blame and punishment will be widely assigned, and benefits will be very unevenly accrued. And the nature of the pathology of the systems will not be comprehended.

Third, the state might become an actual competitor to individual care and discipline. This is perhaps the most tangled and complex and realistic risk in society like ours. It’s such a big and subtle risk that it’s not easy to address it in any pithy way. Its effect doesn’t come from the direct production of negative outcomes, but from the dislocation of investment into less productive means. It’s an effect produced by stealing or subverting or diverting potential. It’s a false idol or bad investment. Its danger is primarily in the incorrect quantity of power and value assigned to it and the amount of devotion and investment it steals away from better objects.

Fourth, people might decide that parental love and discipline is actually a negative feature of human life and desire to replace it with administrative love and discipline, so as to secure a more even result than relying on individual parents. This could lead to the ideological abolishment of the family, the best, most historically proven method among humans for conveying love and expectations, and a violation of our most basic human rights and dignity.

Of course, parents are themselves an uneven and unreliable means of conveying love and expectations. Obviously. We all have parents, and many of us have been parents. And if we have learned anything from thousands of generations of human life, it’s that people are imperfect vessels for their own good intentions. The question isn’t whether parenthood is imperfect, and thus corrupt and should be rejected and discarded, but, considering that all human means of conveyance, like humans themselves, are at least somewhat corrupt and imperfect, which has the greatest innate power and potential? The real question is, what is the best means we have for conveyance of love and expectations?

Partly that question has been answered by theory, but also, because it is an empirical question, it has been answered empirically, and continues to be answered to this day. Nature provides you, to begin, with two parents, each of whom share equally in humanity and in the conveyance of all your needs, but may sub-specialize according to psychological temperament and biological capabilities in their general roles. It’s important enough and powerful enough that it’s innate to the nature of reproduction. Everything else isn’t.

If you lose one of those parents, either through death, abandonment, or general pathology, you have truly lost something. We can try to make up for that with state services, with grandparents, with step parents and foster care, with siblings. Most of our solutions consist of substitutionary individuals, as they should. That is the nearest equivalent to the provision of nature, as we seek to create baby formulas as close as we can to the formula of breast milk.

State services are the furthest removed from the provision of nature. They are useful because they demand the least sacrifice from specific individuals, who otherwise must drastically alter the life they might have had to care for a child, but they also provide the least similar substitute. And much as rat babies provided with all the food and water they need in the absence of parental care still die, humans provided with all the apparent needs of provision and direction by the state still suffer and grow pitifully in the absence of meaningful human-scale relationships. The expansive greatness and power of the state simply doesn’t translate into meaningful long-term impacts on the human spirit. And if you tell people that it should, but they’re still suffering, they’re going to start looking for someone to blame, and they won’t understand who.

In a world in which both starting points and ongoing efforts are unevenly distributed, in which we cannot be certain what amount of care or discipline any given set of parents will be able to provide, we do have to ask ourselves how we should respond. Surely it is in the general interest to alliviate, as much as is actually possible, unnecessary suffering (which is itself a problematic term we can’t go into right now, perhaps a better term would be amenable suffering, suffering it is in our power to relieve). However, because the primary means for the active reduction of suffering and production of love and expectations is individual care I’m parenthood, we have to be terribly careful not to enact any policies that might undermine its operation by means of any of the four dangers I listed earlier (and any others I might have skipped).

Our primary, first, and highest (I don’t say only) concern should be to protect the capacity of those engines of production to operate, not to attempt to legislate half-clocked substitutes into existence. Unfortunately, I think many people see the business of government these days as being the production of outcomes, rather than the protection of the means of production. That is the key difference between the American system of government and that of a utopian state such as, for example, that of the French revolutionary government or the Soviet government.

Parenthood and the development of the individual can work. It can be incredibly powerful and durable. We have not so far developed an effective substitute for it. So whatever other steps we may take to help, and I’m not saying there should not be other steps, our greatest investment should be in the protection of the family. If for no other reason than that individuals appear to have a capacity for conveying these basic human needs in an effective, meaningful, and balanced way, scaled to the appropriate level of human experience and individual uniqueness, that the state simply does not possess.

The state is an abstraction, and it is hard to interact with either love or discipline from an abstraction. The state might be useful for throwing up large-scale, even, and featureless walls around certain problems of either poverty or behavior, but it cannot approach us and meet us where we live. It remains high and far off and impersonal, and so its intervention cannot easily reach us in our inmost being and develop us into the kind of person who develops the means of provision for those needs within themselves. It does not easily touch or inhabit our character.

But our parents are the very things that produced us. They literally inhabit us. And we see them and receive from them, and eventually we discover them in ourselves, both literally and figuratively. By seeing the love and expectations expressed in their lives, we discover how they could be connected to them in us, how they can be imitated and inhabited in us. Love and discipline in them becomes the love and discipline of them in me. We become able to generate those capacities ourselves by finding that connection between us, and in the way they help us specifically and individually to discover that connection. In the same way our parents hand down their genetic capacities to us and give us the ability to also hand them down to others, by their example and their inhabitation of that inherited being before us they hand down to us that cultural knowledge of how to express the power of love and discipline in our own lives, how to discover and develop and maintain it.

The family has generally been seen as the fundamental unit of government, of human society, of human maturation and education, and of production (or at least the development of productivity). Humans take an awfully long time to mature and to raise the next generation too, and have to invest an awful amount in that process. Because our continued existence and the quality of that existence largely depends on it, historically we’ve invested a lot at the state level in promoting, protecting, and preserving it.

After all, it only takes one generation to break the chain and damage a society in a way that is hard to recover from. A society that makes no provision for the production of the next generation to come after them is in denial about the state of existence, their own mortality and the inexorable movement of time, and will cease to exist as they are by necessity with out a special effort to prevent it. And this is the key structural factor, that a society will not by its nature persist or remain stable, much less grow. Every generation will age, weaken, and die. No exceptions. And if you do not pay the price in the present that is necessary to produce the future, the future of your society will cease to exist, and will likely degrade even in your lifetime as your powers to maintain your position wane toward the end of your life.

Because such movements rarely happen wholesale, or perfectly evenly, it’s unlikely that a society will end overnight. But the life that they enjoy will not remain stable. It will not persist against entropic forces without a deliberate anti-entropic effort, including one that is able to transcend the inevitable waning of our own strength and presence. Each generation must find it in themselves to maintain the love, care, expectations, and discipline that provide for the life of mankind. Each must inherit those capacities from the generation before them, and each learns them best and most easily from the generation that produces them (and inherits from the generation before them most easily poverty or riches in these areas).

Each generation in their turn shoulders the burden of present being, the cost of the future, the inheritance of the past. And the greatest question they face is how to address that equation. Will they be willing to pay the price of the future? Will they make the proper investments? Will they make use of the conveyances of the past, whatever they are? Can they understand and respond to the inheritance of the past, taking what they can from it? Most importantly, will they shoulder the burden of the present that lies in eternal being before them?

We cannot, after all, place all our hopes and investments in some other time. The past is gone, beyond our ability to reach or alter. The future has not yet come. But we touch both in the present. We meet the legacy of the past and propel it into the future through our present action. Both past and present are of inestimable value, but if they distract us from our main aim, shouldering their burden in the present, we seek to live and affect change in a time that is beyond our reach.

It is not the the past and future do not exist or do not matter, they are of inestimable importance. But it is in the now that we must live. And in the now, our greatest question is, how are we shouldering the burden of the present by developing the capacity within ourselves for love and discipline? How are we becoming the productive individuals that our parents were (or failed to be) and how can we develop that capacity effectively so that we can demonstrate it and (hopefully) hand it down to the generation to come?

On a side note, I have developed elsewhere the arguments for why love and discipline are the essential and complimentary animating factors that both produce and describe human development. They correspond roughly to the human qualities (and problems) of individuality and choice. The world we find ourselves in and our response to it. The orientation toward the world as we wish it to be and the world as it must be confronted. Although shared, produced, and needed by all mankind, they can be conceived as an Anima and Animus, as generally feminine and generally masculine, if you wish to represent them archetypally. They are in a kind of marriage that produces human growth and development and continuation, just as the marriage of actual human cells, bodies, and lives does.

Human society is essentially a marriage between these two halves of humanity, both genetically, biologically, psychologically, and socialogically, writ large because written from the lowest to the high, from the scale of a single united strand of DNA to the unity of a whole species. And the maintenance and protection of that marriage that stands across all levels of human expression is the first duty of all mankind, and so the first duty of the state. Because everything else depends on it. It is far from the only duty, but shirking this one will inevitably degrade and frustrate all others.

That marriage, of all levels, inherently centers around the production and development of individuals, is a clue to the dignity, importance, and centrality of the individual. It is the appropriate level for human intervention. It is where we meet these forces of past and future and can interact with them on meaningful terms. It is where we live, and where life is to be found.

The refusal to accept the inheritance, burden, or price of either past, present, or future will not end with our long term flourishing. They must all be integrated, all brought into meaning in our present lives. The lessons of the past must be extracted so it can be laid to rest as our foundation and soil, the seeds of the future must be planted in our present lives. We must water all with love and discipline in the present.

Both love and discipline reach from the present into the past and the future for who we are and who we wish to be, for the world as it ought to be and for ourselves as we ought to be, for us as we are and the world as it is. That is why they are the tools we use. Because they see us as individuals and love what we are, the legacy of the past. And they see our potential and who we could be and love us too much to leave us otherwise; they have learned the hard lessons of the past and see what must be done, and they have expectations that lift us up into that destiny and discipline us to achieve it. They give us the strength and sutenance to survive the past and the future and give us to power and focus to respond to and make use of the past and shape the future. One supports us while the other challenges us. And together we reach higher and higher states of being against the arrayed forces of entropy.

Neither love nor discipline alone would sustain us against the forces of entropy. One gives everything and one demands everything. On their own, neither would raise us veey far. Without the gentle rain to water us we would wither, and without the fire of the sun to draw us up from our roots to meet its rays we would have no vigor. A dried stalk or a soggy mass of roots would be the only result. It is the pathology of one to be tyranically harsh and of the other to be softly devouring and degrading. It is only in combination that they find their balance and produce the life of mankind. The power of the sun drives the antifragile response that draws the water up from the roots into the stems and leaves and out through the process of respiration. Together they make a cycle where both fire and water become sustaining forces instead of degrading ones.

Art is not necessary

Art seems to stand as a peculiar and bizzare feature of humanity, because it is not necessary. It did not have to be. It is an act of creation, of interference in and addition to nature.

When you attempt to reduce human behavior to simple, biologically deterministic routines scaled up from basic animal routines, there remain many strange artifacts. Most curious of all is that these artifacts don’t seem to serve any clear biological or evolutionary function. And yet they aren’t minor or uncommon or tangential features of humanity, they are essential and common features. And even more strangely, they seem to be built in, with some young people possessing them in great quantities.

Even stranger, considering how much human life has changed, these same instincts, qualities, and abilities are clearly discernible among even the absolute oldest signs of human habitation. And they are evident across all cultures in all environments. They seem to be inherently latent in all of us, to some degree. You can pick any corner of humanity and select a likely individual, transpose them into a radically different culture with no intermediate generational stages or evolution, and train them to levels of exceptional excellence.

It is very hard to see how Star Wars or The Lord of the Rings or Cubism are necessary. How they could be nothing more than what you would expect the biologically deterministic products of a materially deterministic universe to produce. It is not clear how genes must necessarily lead to Harry Potter and Beethoven’s 5th, Howl’s Moving Castle and Impressionism. If all we are is the products of our genes, then there must be some very strange stuff in there.

Aladdin and modern Disney anthems 

I’ve been trying to untangle what bothers me about the “I won’t be silent” song from Aladdin. I suppose a lot of it is context. The movie is a pale imitation of its predecessor, it adds almost nothing to the story and subtracts much. The title character is clearly the weakest in the whole movie. This is one of the few Disney movies where the prince is just as important, or more so, than the princess, and although I love the princess movies and have no trouble identifying with them, I really loved the character of Aladdin and of Jasmine.

In the original movie both characters seemed very important, but in the newer version Aladdin seems more a shallow side show to Jasmine’s story, and her story is quite changed from the previous version in ways that hardly make much sense, except in the current political context. Far from suffering the problem of being silent, Jafar simply sits down to watch while she argues with the palace guards about why they should listen to her and leave Jafar. And she’s not unsuccessful. She succeeds in convincing the guards. Almost every character gets an earful from her, and she enjoys a position of immense privilege above virtually every other character in the movie.

The old Jasmine was a sassy girl with a lot of boldness and self-will and determination who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. But she didn’t do all that and also complain that she was a repressed victim being denied a voice at the same time. She was tired of her position of safety and banality, the triteness of luxury and the expectations of her royal position, and hungered for adventure and meaning, and that was a well told and consistent story. The new Jasmine seems eager to be a benevolent dictator, and only frustrated that she can’t dispose of the need for her father or a consort or heirs. She has the desire for power and the right to it and is being artificially denied the fulfillment of her noble ambition, or having it come loaded with other structural obligations. Fair enough. This princess seems more like a Queen Elizabeth than the Jasmine of the old movie who chafed under the limitations and responsibilities of the crown and went out seeking new possibilities. It’s just odd that the movie Aladdin, a movie fundamentally about the limitations of the value of ultimate power, should have become, essentially, about the ascention of Jasmine to the crown of Agrabah.

There are other oddities. Jasmine’s song about not being silent, curiously enough, seems to be a silent internal song where she imagines blasting other characters who stand in her way into oblivion in her passion. It’s very bizzare. I’m not sure what to make of such visuals or of such framing.

The actress is clearly trying harder than anyone else in the movie and is clearly more talented than most of her costars. And the movie itself seems more invested in her than in any other character, justifiably, since she’s giving the most back. The weak performances of Jafar and Aladdin hardly merit extra attention or screen time. The best work in the movie was clearly being done by Jasmine.

From an editorial standpoint, the song is little weak. It doesn’t advance the plot, it doesn’t tell us anything about the character we didn’t already know and that wasn’t already well established. So what is it’s function? It’s more of an anthem. It’s polemical. It’s not subtle, it’s baldly ideological and just tells you what the character is thinking, what her stance is (which we already know from her words and actions). The time line of the movie just stops during this song, then suddenly resumes again afterward, something none of the other songs do. And then we actually get to see her demonstrate by action in a few sentences what the song took several minutes to tell us she felt like doing. That’s not great storytelling.

But none of that is what bothers me about Jasmine’s song, which is well performed, far better than any other song in the whole movie. It’s catchy too, if a somewhat odd fit in this movie. It has more the feel of contemporary theater and pop music, post-Wicked, than it does the feel of the old Disney musical. What really bothers me about the song is the strangely dislocated ideology of it. It expresses a sentiment I can’t quite get behind. It endorses an instinct in myself that I don’t recognize as a good one, but rather as problematic. I guess you could summarize it as “I’m gonna be heard” or “the man ain’t gonna keep me down”. And I’m reasonably sure “the man” means the patriarchy, whose overthrowing is the genuine victory and conclusion of the movie. But I’m not interested in arbitrating contemporary political debates or sentiments or debating the merits of such an endeavor.

What bothers me about the sentiments expressed in this song is the same thing that bothers me about the sentiments expressed in Elsa’s song in Frozen 2. They show no aspiration to a higher value than self expression and self actualization. Elsa finds her meaning in her I habitation of her power. “I am the person I’ve been waiting for all my life.” she sings. It’s a very modern sentiment, but profoundly shallow and solipsistic. It’s basically the anthem of every self indulgent sociopath who has ever lived. It’s the song cult leaders and serial killers and obsessive narcissists hum to themselves at night. It has no clear moral value in itself, in fact it’s a sentiment generally assumed by most cultures to be inherently dangerous and destructive. Your self expression is only as good as you happen to be. And if your worldview revolves around the beauty and glory of the assertion of your own self and power and expression, it’s likely to go very wrong indeed.

Jasmine expresses similar sentiments. Her song doesn’t refer to some higher value that has a claim on her that her refusal to be silent serves. She just won’t be speechless or silent. The content isn’t really referenced. Self expression seems to be virtue enough. And this is an instinct I’ve struggled with in myself my whole life. I’m a pretty articulate person. Self expression comes easy. And it’s easy to dominate others as a result. And the glory of that self expression can often seem like it’s own justification. It feels good to assert yourself against others (and let’s be plain, you don’t assert yourself in a vacuum, you assert yourself against others). It’s a expression of personal power in defiance of the power of others. But there’s nothing inherently good or bad, except in a purely selfish sense, about me asserting and expressing myself rather than you. Unless, of course, both your expression and my expression are subject to judgment according to a higher, common value, that compels me to speak and gives value to my expression. But Jasmine seems only to be interested in a justice of equal competition for airtime. She won’t be silent in the face of injustice, but the injustice she feels compelled to resist isn’t some higher, abstract kind of justice that isn’t served by self expression by anyone, but rather by articulation of its universal necessity. That kind of justice might make expression (but self expression) necessary, bravery to speak even in the face of resistance and danger. But Jasmine spends virtually no time at all on such an ethic, and far more time on herself. She needs to be heard. Her voice won’t be stopped. She doesn’t appeal to the necessary need to heed to voice of reason, but the need to hear her.

And that is a curious anthem. It’s much closer to the chest thumping self-aggrandizement of tribal warriors asserting their voice and status in the clan than it is to the thoughtful and passionate appeals to transcendent values of other ages. Not that Jasmine might not be in such a situation. She might be in the kind of political situation where asserting oneself and siezing power are warranted and necessary solutions. It’s just an oddly regressive virtue for a Disney princess to assert in a modern movie, especially when so much of the story pretends to such unrealistic and anachronistic political idealism.

I’ve studied the lyrics very carefully, and I cannot find any message that rises above the fundamental message “they want me to be quiet, and I won’t be”. And contextually maybe this could be a good message. Depending very much on the context. If it’s beacaue you’re speaking to something important, something transcendentally good, then certainly. But the song contains absolutely no internal indication that that is the case. She isn’t speaking for something. She is speaking for her, full stop. And that is exactly what infants do, and noisy toddlers. They also seek to assert themselves, and purely themselves, against the world. They see value in that mere assertion of individuality and stubbornness.

And, as I said, it’s a very odd thing for her to argue, since she the most outspoken character in the whole movie. And the song also seems to inaccurately match up with her present problem in the movie. Aladdin and her father have been captured and will likely be killed or imprisoned. She is likely to be given better treatment. The vizier has just effected a political revolution by means of the intervention of an immortal, marginal genie. Even the main villain, as we see, is quite willing to sit down and be lecture by her and let her attempt to undo his magical revolution by means of convincing the palace guards to just not allow it. It’s not at all clear that her problems are easily summarized and addressed in this manner. Or that the problems facing Aladdin, her father, the genie, or even Jafar couldn’t also be summarized and addressed just as effectively. How does her situation, really, reflect the content of the song more than anyone else’s? “Because she’s a woman” is just a way of substituting ideology for actual arguments based in the facts, characters, and situations in the story. I might just as easily make the same argument for Aladdin being the best representative for the song because of his class, or Jarar because he’s a social pariah seeking legitimacy. Surely his own desires and viewpoints and motivations could be just as easily summarized by Jasmine’s song? I’m sure there’s a way you could even make a case for Abu, the leader of the guards, or the sultan. Everyone has their own story, their own limitations, their own frustrations, their own desire to assert themselves. And self assertion can be as much a vice in a princess as it might be in a vizier or a monkey. That’s why it makes insufficient grounds for a primary ethic and hymn of glorifying praise. All nations sing anthems. Not all nations singing them are involved in doing good.

It’s not a matter of great concern. Context is so much. And children generally find their own meaning for songs and stories. Still, I am not pleased with the content on offer. It seems to lack some essential features. It is a shallow, and also unsubtle, articulation of a moral imperative. “Me!” may be a universal cry and appealing sentiment, but it adds little to elevate or enrich our lives or consciousness. More of me in the world is a contingent and not a necessary good. And that was a hard lesson for me, dearly bought.

Or wait, maybe I figured out why they bother me. It’s because I hate women!! I’m a sexist pig who doesn’t want women to steal my aggressive masculine power for their own. I’m just such a meat head alpha.

What does saying something evolved accomplish? 

I am trying to understand a linguistic and logical problem with the way we talk about certain positive traits we describe as evolutionary products. The problem is, that is some sense we seem to be saying that the cause of the causes are their effects. That in some sense the trajectory of time was inevitably toward some higher, more complex, better state (whatever that means in materialistic terms rather than human purposive and imaginative terms). Better able to be, I suppose. And in some sense being better able to be is somehow an ontological necessity of the kind of world we live is. It necessarily creates its present self by producing the necessary means to give rise to it in the past. It designs itself retrospectively by necessity.

At least, that is how we perceive it. We perceive present states and then argue that they were favored by virtue of their present superiority to be necessarily produced by the past. Better states have come to pass, they came to pass because they must, therefore the unlikely and difficult production of those future states from the states of the past (where such excellence and complexity did not exist) was not only possible, but necessary. And it did not require any pre-existing or directing design or intention to motivate it or create it from previous non-existence. It was, essentially, self-creating by logical necessity, not design or intention, retroactively.

In a way, it’s like saying that bicycles had to be invented because they’re better than walking, and motorcycles had to be invented because they’re better than bicycles. So it wasn’t unlikely at all that such innovations should take place, standing as we do at the end of such conceptual leaps of imagination. Problems were there to be solved, even if they did not exist as problems for lower organisms but rather as barriers to the existence of higher ones, and those problems were solved to allow those new complexities to come into being, because they must. Why they must, except that because they do, remains unclear.

It is almost as if there were a propulsive spirit that called complexity into existence, in defiance of the general entropic trend of nature. It seems almost like a metaphysical, religious claim. And it is not clear when we invoke it as an explanation that this strange spirit that inhabits our genes evolved us, that we are saying anything different from claiming that some obscure power created us, apparently with a determinate eye to give us some excellence. It is not clear to me that religion and science are really saying anything much different, only choosing their representative imaginative metaphors and grammar differently.

This problem also seems to arise with cosmology, which plucks the same strings as theology to solve the same problems that experience has confronted men with for all eternity, but imagines itself to be somehow more well founded for describing its inaccessible deities in terms of “the landscape” or “de Sitter egg universes” or “dark matter” or “superposition” or “Calabi-Yau Manifolds” or “eternal inflation” . All of which are experientially inaccessible, but have use as metaphors providing ideological explanations for the otherwise unexplainable mysteries of the universe. They are not things we can see or touch, but by them the greatness of creation is called into existence and order.

Why should such physical and biological order arise all around us, as if by necessity, as some have described it like a tornado assembling a 747 by passing through a junkyard? Saying that it evolved (in describing the arising and ordering of withe the physical or biological world) is not clearly so different a statement as saying either that “it just happened” or “it was created”. Possibly it is a way of saying both at the same time, a way of combining an apparent contradiction. For the first argues mere chance, no intention, no order, no design. While the second conceals direction, organization, order, intention, applied in some way retroactively, with the effect producing the cause by necessity of some sort of destiny.

Saying that something evolved basically allows you to express both of these very contradictory concepts simultaneously. It allows you to use the language of intention, of problems being solved, of designs being executed, or purposes being fulfilled, without actually obligating you to a universe haunted by any such actual intention, design, or purpose. You get all the hermeneutics without any of the theology. In this way it might be considers more a sort of intellectual judo than a coherent philosophical or scientific explanation.

Why is dissatisfaction so easy? 

It is a strange and disturbing observance that, despite the ease and comfort of my own state of life, it is so profoundly easy to hate everyone and everything, including myself, with my buzzing thoughts and fragile, needy body. And that pleasures enjoyed seem to serve only to delay or extend that state than to give it relief. Why, upon being perfectly comfortable, I am not perfectly happy also. And why it is so specially easy to hate and resent those who I love and depend upon most. Surely either life or the sort of thing I am is of such an odd nature to be so. And yet I do not think my condition to be purely singular. It seems to be a problem we all pursue, or perhaps rhat pursues us.

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The difference between making excuses and understanding

Why this distinction can be complicated when it comes to understanding the past.

The following response was provoked when, on remarking that certain practices of the past were not the result of special malignancy, but rather the result of unexamined habit, someone else responded to me that it wasn’t necessary to make excuses; the practice existed and was bad. Which was technically true, but so was my comment. Thus there was between us a pitting of moral instincts, moral understanding vs moral judgment. Their attitude struck me as license to make harsh, anachronistic judgments. But my objector saw it as necessary for sustaining present moral judgement (although the people in question were theoretical people of the past). They saw my perspective as license to make excuses for bad behavior of the past that any decent person should reject and condemn. So here is my response.

I judge this to be a particular feature of our age, that we are especially judgmental and self-righteous when it comes to making opinions of other times. And it was a particular feature of other ages, that they made such judgements of the people of other places, but tended to venerate the contributions of the past. Because their cultural moral judgements were especially locationally bound and ours are especially time bound (because neither of us are willing to travel much, except as snotty tourist contextualizing all we see in terms of our own local superiority), it is not clear that either is fundamentally superior or wise. Both are improved in the acuuracy of their judgment by perspective.

It is a mistake to decide that I do not (and need not) have the moral imagination to conceive of any reason for you believing or doing something other than a condition of special moral reprehensibility on your part. It is also an oversight not to at least entertain the possibility that the conditions which produced an opinion or course of action (especially one that was commonly or widely held) are not relevant to our moral assessment of an individual or class of individuals. Right and wrong aren’t determined by popular opinion or the time on a clock. But it is worth understanding our own assumptions and the assumptions of others when we go around assigning blame based on the disconnect between the two. We’re they here, the people of the past would likely be just as quick to condemn us for much of our differences.

The retrospective assumption we possess is that everything we at this moment think or believe or conclude as our standard is relevant in judging all previous systems and products that led to our present system and product.

This assumption is very anachronistic, because it considers certain moral assumptions of our own age as obvious, closed issues, and not as genuine questions that provoked a range of what seemed, at the time, reasonable answers.

The ability to judge people of another time or place is often most reliant upon the difference in the amount we feel it is reasonable to assume our own position. In other words, how we define reasonable moral expectations. Even if we conclude that we have, in fact, reached the best conclusions, it is useful when observing others and making judgements about them, to consider whether their own conclusions seemed reasonable enough to them, based on their own experience and theories.

If studying history (or even truly studying the present) teaches us anything, it’s that some moral conclusions that we take as obvious are in no way obvious except to such people as ourselves, those sharing our background and experience and history, and were not the conclusions reached by a vast number of people of other times, places, and culture. In fact, in many cases our own beliefs are in the historical and cultural minority, and only achieved the traction they did as a result of our own culture’s success in the world.

Votes of confidence based on such factors of success have often been made in favor of many civilizations of differing values and beliefs. And thier currency was vulnerable to the depreciation of their cultural cache, when and if their wealth and power faded. The gods of Egypt did not long survive the fall of the Egyptian kingdom. In fact one of the few rare examples one can observe that bucks that trend is the Jewish religion (and also to a degree Christianity). Curiously, neither of these faiths seemed to be served by cultural success, according to their own history, but rather were degraded by it.

I suppose the question we must is, how much can we impugn individual people, view them as specially good or specially bad, better or worse than us (and I think this attitude in us is really the important moral question), for believing and assuming what everyone else at the time assumed and believed, for taking for granted the things that seemed reasonable to everyone at the time? How can you judge people for failing to recognize what was in no way apparent to them as a matter for judgment, but rather firm and settled convention?

That’s actually a very hard question. It demands of us that we ponder our own position and how people of other times might judge or criticize us for the things we take for granted. There are things in our lives and society that they would likely be horrified by, and not less horrified because we do not even observe them as objects of concern, founded as they are in pervasive, fundamental moral assumptions of our age. What assumptions might future generations have reached as conclusions of their experience (and possibly as a result of our present and future failures) that will cause them to judge and despise us as an especially corrupt and degraded people?

How much can we blame people for what everybody knows? How much can we blame the few for what everybody knew? How much can we blame them for not knowing what nobody knew? How much worse does it make them than us? How much better does it make us than them? How much traction can we truly get from the argument, “Well, it’s obvious that…” when it wasn’t obvious to most people at the time and is only obvious to us now as the result of a very complex historical and cultural and philosophical process that has produced our current assumptions? When our own arrival at those assumptions was historically conditional upon the process of development that led to them and included as necessary steps all the intervening (if less complete, by our perspective) stages? And what stages or even massive changes and corrections might yet be in our future that would render our own assumptions despicable and ignorant to future consideration?

Of course we do not want to increase our understanding and sympathy so much that we are no longer able to make moral judgements about what we should do and how to better our world and our lot. But there is, I believe, a difference between making analyzing moral beliefs and theories, and moral judgements about people.

Moral judgements about people are limited in their validity and effectiveness (since their object is appropriate action) by their proximity to one’s own life. Thus the injunction against removing the plank from your own eye before removing the speck from your neighbors. An amusing way of putting it, since it also captures the inherent problem of perspective. A speck in your own eye will have a far more massive effect on your own vision because of its proximity to you, even if it is no bigger in actuality than that which sullies your neighbor’s eye. This idiom enjoins us to view the significance of the speck appropriately and respond with moral action appropriate to the problem it presents, while acknowledging that both parties may have something in their eyes. A position of easy moral judgment of others’ blindness is easy to maintain if you ascribe to an ideological blindness based on perspective.

This understanding of individual people does not preclude judgements about what actions or situations were right or wrong or what we might do to improve them, but it does give us the ability to have some sympathy for the people who made such errors, the conditions that caused them, and can help to provide real wisdom about the way in which such decisions and actions can be reached, what produces them, and so help to inform our provide self-criticism of our own actions. And this is the great benefit of such an approach. Not that it makes moral judgements about others impossible, but that it makes them wise and informed with regard to our own actions and prevents us from finding a false security in our own assumptions that we are unwilling to grant to others. It forces us to grant the same understanding to others that we grant to ourselves and commits us to the same judgment of ourselves as we mete out to others.

In my opinion my original explanation or excuse (however you view it) was relevant, because the preceding discussion was about how assumptions about the intentions of different people and assumptions about the meaning of certain outcomes could lead you to make erroneous moral judgements and inadvertently promote rather than prevent injustice.

In my mind, what people of a given time assumed and how it caused them to act was actually very relevant. Both the people of now and the people then likely have reasons for thinking and acting how they did, as well as sets of unexamined assumptions that might be misdirecting their moral judgements. I think what bothered me most was the apparent function of the objection being to place ourselves, in our point in time, on the side of the angels, and aligning the people of all past times with the forces of hell, rather than any real effort to actually understand their perspectives, our own, or what perspective either of us should have.

The refusal to even listen to explanations in the service of current judgmental expediency (which is really primarily about status rather than action, since it’s just an attitude about our own superior relation to goodness and has nothing to do with any immediate practical questions of action or any real people we know or are dealing with; it’s about passing judgement on trans-temporal abstractions and achieving some sort of cosmic justice by shaming them or congratulating ourselves) is hardly a road to either personal or cultural moral enlightenment.

Now, I admit that I have made similar statements myself. And I understand their usefulness. I’ve used them especially with my children, when they offer reams of explanations for their actions, usually trying to justify or explain them in some way that will get them out of trouble. And sometimes I have said that I don’t want to hear explanations, I just want the room cleaned up or the shouting to stop, or that some hard moral line was crossed like hitting your sister or screaming at your mom, and that has to be dealt with regardless of whatever produced the situation. The conditions that produces the infraction are irrelevant. The difference, I suppose, is that such explanations are set aside for the demand of the moment, because there is an immediate question of response and action that must be met.

Even from my own experience I’ve learned, though, that being unwilling to listen does sometimes cause my judgement to go astray. Often there is more to the story that would have changed how I dealt with the situation. It doesn’t change the fact that a wrong was done, but both for moral evaluation as well as for moral correction (knowing how to best address and fix the problem), it’s actually very useful to understand it. If you don’t understand the circumstances that produced a bad situation, you’re unlikely to be able to determine how to remedy it. And if your discussion is centered around potentially harmful attempts to remedy a bad situation, such understanding can be especially necessary.

Of course not everyone will see things the same. Some people will see certain issues as very simple, and have little interest in the moral complexity of the conditions that produced them, and prefer to see such matter as simple acts of evil done by people acting in bad faith. Because they assume similar knowledge and assumptions and conditions on the part of the people they see as having erred, it is easy enough to reach such a conclusion.

There are a lot of arguments made these days that center around skipping or even forbidding as immoral and offensive, complexity in service of moral expediency. Justice must be rendered, the need is immediate. So there is no room for analysis or questioning or argumentation. To do so is to put yourself on the side of the unrighteous. And there is terrible social pressure to show yourself as being in the side of the righteous. Explanations and arguments are a kind of excuse, a sign of fragility. And you need to dispose of your fragility and embrace the moral consensus.

The limits of political power for securing happiness

Political power as a strategy is far less useful for producing personal well-being and success then it is for protecting personal well-being and success. This is partly a structural feature, simply because actual human production of capital, human capital or otherwise, takes place at the individual and not the collective level. It may be aggregated or conveyed at the collective level, but it is not is easily produced. Many of the great political advances in securing of rights and responsibilities did not produce but rather followed development in those areas. Increased rights and responsibilities secured further development and prevented interference in the production process. But the creation or defense of opportunities is not the same process as the production of value, even if it effects it.

There are of course many examples where regressive political policies and structures were holding back the proper development and production of human capital. But the role of political protections and policies is not to produce development but to protect its production by individuals. Even regressive political structures generally have this as their goal, just with very specific biases that favor limited and perhaps not justified groups.

Even the law itself is a kind of protectionist policy, deliberately advantaging and disadvantaging certain strategies and opportunities that we believe to be anti-social, counter-productive, dishonest, exploitative, or pathological. Thus we have laws regulating or discouraging all kinds of strategies that actually do often technically work for the people who use them, from theft to pyramid schemes to strip mining to slavery to drug dealing to prostitution to insider trading to mail fraud to snake oil selling.

So in some ways the questions isn’t whether political protectionism is right or wrong. Very few people are willing to embrace the kind of pure ideological libertarianism of outright anarchy. Everyone just takes for granted that the things they want to protect are the right things, that their policy goals are justified. And that’s the real test, not whether political protections and prejudices exist. They must exist. That’s the whole point of them. The real question is how well their values and strategies and goals are justified. Whether they’re being used for a justifiable good or not.

In the past, it wasn’t so obvious that certain political arrangements weren’t justified. And overall there was much less regulation. Modern societies, as they have become more complex, have developed very complex systems of rules, guarantees, rights, and responsibilities to protect the many interested parties and the many different areas of production. A society that hasn’t got much beyond some families, a cluster of huts, and fishing will center most of its laws, prescriptions, rights, and admonitions around those features. They will have rules about those things, but very little about education, international trade and tariffs, foreign work visas, and corporate law.

The reasonable assumptions about the world and what it was and what it should be also varied greatly in past times. It wasn’t obvious, for example, that a rival clan that had just moved into your clan’s territory had some fundamental right (legal or otherwise) to compete for and exploit the same resources that your clan was using and relying on. Other than their ability to proactively secure and defend that right by force. Such rights and opportunities could often only be seen to exist by dint of being made manifest by deliberate, undeniable action, might makes right. It wasn’t obvious prima facie that such expectations were in any way reasonable or to be assumed simply based on the structure of the universe (which tended to deny such rights universally to everyone except those who deliberately secured them for themselves).

Probably one of the biggest difference between us and people of the past is how much we take for granted. We’ve made it so easy and so common to produce wealth and have long life and security that we’ve made it look easy, like something you can just assume the universe provides by nature. And because we’ve forgotten and look back with contempt on everyone before us who wasn’t so enlightened as ourselves (who stand by fortune upon the high perch of the collective inheritance of all the generations before us), we don’t understand how it all came to be or respect the processes by which those accomplishments accumulated. We just take the results for granted and despise the means by which they were won and preserved, like the spoiled children of wealthy entrepreneurs.

On acts of courage and defiance and stubborn people 

I walked away from my masters degree the week of graduation because I wouldn’t agree to the demands of my thesis committee, since I saw them as fundamentally compromising my beliefs. Now, maybe that’s because I was an idiot and a jerk and a coward. And I always want to keep that as my primary challenge to my own sense of self righteousness. It kind of ruined my life and health and cost me my career, but I’m not sure I could have done anything else.

I think there are some people who, by no great virtue but by a happy confluence of personality and perspective, just won’t do things if you try to force them. Donkeys. And we need donkeys, sometimes. Are they heroes? They can be. They might be. But they’re also just very fixed in their own ideas and unwilling and even unable to be coerced.

I hate doing anything for social pressure reasons. And my wife hates going against social pressure. In high school, in a small rural town, I refused to stand for the national anthem at basketball games. Not for any remotely heroic reasons, not to make any kind of statement. But because it was expected and demanded. I was proving my autonomy to myself.

That’s a very pointless and unproductive act. It proves and gains nothing, it’s an act more similar to a belligerent child asserting pure and simple selfhood than any kind of rational, productive, moral act. Having seen myself do things like that, I try not to take too much credit for the other times in my life I have stood up to authorities and social forces much larger than myself because I believed they were wrong.

Nowadays I’m much more cowardly. I’ve learned to invest more in the world around me. I have more to lose. I’m less myopic in my focus on my own identity and my own beliefs and having those connections creates weaknesses. And maybe that’s one reason it’s harder for women in general to be disagreeable. They’re more social and more connected to others. They have more invested in the good of others and also the opinion of others. That makes their claims on you much more compelling.

It may be easier to stand against the crowd by being disinvested and independent and contrary, but it sure does come with downsides too. And it may be harder to stand against the crowd when you are more invested and agreeable and pro-social, but it also comes with advantages. And overall society needs more of the latter than the former. But soemtimes you really do need those people who will not follow and will not be moved.

Marriage as a test for parenthood 

Is it possible that being married is, in some ways, the best test of and training ground for whether you’re capable of being a good parent? Especially for men, but likely for everyone? Children demand so much and offer so little back. If you can’t accept a different person’s interests as your own and flesh of your own flesh, how can you accept the enormous demands of someone who truly is flesh of your own flesh but will likely drain you, extort you, defy you, and in short shrift inevitably leave you behind? Take a little while and read the giving tree, which is a very bittersweet book that nicely captures the pleasures and pains of parenthood. Giving up yourself for a child is a terrible thing to ask of anyone. I never had any idea how much it would demand of me. But, of course, they are the most precious pains and precious losses. Marriage is a training ground whose daily practice is fulfilled in living example by your historical relationship with your children.

Women, historically, have certainly used marriage, both proof of worthiness for it and performance in it, as a litmus test of worthiness for men (and to a lesser degree themselves) to be parents.

The relative value of violence

Is it possible that violence is the cheapest price it’s possible to pay for personal freedom? That seems counter intuitive. It depends what you mean by costly, and for whom. A society that allows the greatest extremes of personal freedom would mean a society that involves itself the least amount possible in other types of social control and soft power. All those other ways of regulating people’s behavior, of stopping it for merely being on a certain trajectory, all the demands that people police and regulate their own behavior, would be minimized. But at some point you would have to draw a line, and beyond that line the only remaining response would be extreme violence and censure. When you collapse all regulation of behavior except the extremes, you collapse all possible responses to behavior except the extremes.

I suppose you could reframe this economically. If you deliberately discount the value of all other forms of intervention, or suppress them by choice, so they have little currency and are not in any way encouraged or enforced or used at a societal or personal level, then the only form of hard check on behavior that would retain its value would be violence. It’s easy, it’s instant, it’s expedient, it has large effects. When you decrease the value of the state department and all its various forms of soft power, you concurrently increase the value of the military and its hard power. In the presence of a power vaccum, whatever remains increases in value and utility. In a limited market of few alternatives, hard power is likely to be the most affordable alternative available. I’m not sure this is the right framing. It mostly revolves around the relative value and utility of a potential social tool. If you decrease the value and utility of all other social tools, and reduce access, then whatever remains becomes the best value and easiest to access. So violence becomes the best bargain for social control, when all other options have been actively depressed. Violence is also fair straightforward and easy to produce. Other kinds of interventions are often quite complicated and difficult to produce. Chasing down potential causes and heading them off is a lot trickier and requires a lot more sophisticated judgment than just responding to an emerged problem after the fact. And if your goal is to maximize personal freedom on a social level, that really limits the effectiveness of all soft power solutions and increases the relative value of violence.

This is certainly a problem for policing. It’s extremely hard to know what people expect from a system set up in this way. If we also raise the cost of violence without increasing access to non-violent methods of restraining behavior (which all impinge on personal freedom at a point at which it has not yet led to obviously tranagressive results), then what solutions remain? Limits on behavior can be enforced at the social and individual level through prohibition of certain behaviors, social censure, and other forms of indirect intervention. Standard of behavior can also be encouraged and enforced through positive means (although any positive necessarily means whatever is outside the positive registers as a relative negative, this is mathematically unavoidable). Or limits on behavior can be enforced by direct intervention, after the fact, through overt punishment. And you can seek to directly reward good behavior. And those are pretty much all the options.

As a parent, you can offer direct and tangible hard punishments and rewards for actual outcomes, or you can address generative behaviors and either encourage or suppress them. If your goal is to maximize personal autonomy and freedom though, you’re sort of at the mercy of whoever that person happens to behave. If you have very pleasant assumptions about the nature of humans and children (and many parents do, at least until they actually have children) and what sort of behavior will just come naturally to them, you might be optimistic about the eventual need for direct interventions being unlikely.

Unfortunately, by the time you find out you’re wrong, you’ve already suffered the consequences of those unanticipated actions, and you’re already limited to force as a response (since it’s already too late for soft power to have forestalled them by altering the conditions that produced them). The argument, don’t you care that you caused this terrible effect is a little weak if you didn’t put any previous effort into producing the kind of person who would innately care about such a result, but rather allowed them to become the sort of person who would willingly produce it. In many ways, I judge such a system to be quite unfair. If you’re truly invested in avoiding certain outcomes, as well as in avoiding hard force responses to those outcomes, then you should be willing to invest honestly in the conditions that produce them. You should be willing to do your job as a parent. And that will likely including being paternalistic.

Finding the balance between paternalism and freedom is always a very difficult task in a complex society. Going all in on either strategy can be a problem. The important, things, I think, is to recognize ideologically that there is a balance to be discovered, that there are tradeoffs to both, that both have the potential to be dangerous, and both have the potential to be helpful. At the moment, though, we seem to be in a very confused state. Demanding that all curtailing of freedom is fundamentally morally evil, leaving us with no options but confrontation and violence when our limits are violated, and then complaining about the use of that violence. We decry standards meant to prevent evil and demand where everyone was and why nothing was done when moral evil is the inevitable result.

I wonder, in a way, if this isn’t something we’ve already done in other parts of our society. Maybe this explains the odd schizophrenia of our society with regard to sex, where permissiveness and understanding and license and exceptions are granted without quarter at all levels to promote personal freedom; except there is still a line, and when you cross it its not a little step but a massive shift beyond the bounds of acceptable behavior, and you suddenly switch from the atmosphere of tolerance and understanding and freedom and deterministic explanations for personal sovereignty to being the devil himself, subject to the language of the inquisition, exiled from humanity itself, and none of those previous arguments hold any sway.

Extreme libertarianism preserves only war as the province of the government. Which means that if the government feels it must ever deal with anything, it has no tool to wield other than military force. Perhaps social libertarianism has a similar structure.

Why is instability comforting?

Why do I find Coronavirus comforting? Because it resets expectations and excuses any personal failure to produce the stability and consistency everyone else seems able to produce. I can fail, or not t be doing as well as everyone else, and feel fine about it. Is there, then, an instinct to welcome disaster in the interest of a more level or less judgemental playing field? Does misery love company? If the default is, in practice, a struggle to survive, I can feel better about already being where I am and living how I am.

Violence as a creative force

Does war and competition generate as well as reflect belief in a society? Is it the mechanism by which periods of stability are generated, by forcing us to test our capabilities and develop means for survival?

Is peace ultimately conducive to stability, or does it inevitably produce long term instability? Does long peace actually drive people to want to reset the level of societal distribution of outcomes and make us want to tear down our structures? I should read The Great Leveler. And consider whether Frank Herbert was actually identifying an essential property in human psychology?

Dawkins and atheistic optimism

The problem with Richard Dawkins’ speculation that “Perhaps I am a Pollyanna to believe that people would remain good when unobserved and unpoliced by God” is that, if his own theory is correct, people actually are unobserved and unpoliced by God, but nevertheless have achieved the sum total of human suffering and evil across the centuries.

If God does not, in fact, exist, if I grant his thesis, that doesn’t change history. All that occurred without God. And if your try to explain away the basic historical facts and preserve his thesis that not only is God not present but was never necessary, how do you explain human evil? His attempt to explain it seems to be the curious proposition that the only reason we couldn’t be perfectly good in a world without God, was because of the belief in God.

This is a very odd theory to posit as the origin of all human evil. Especially when it has been able to arise under such differing circumstances across all cultures and time and individuals, regardless of belief. And isn’t it strange that the entire explanatory power for human evil is to be laid at the feet of the contention that there is something objective about moral reality to which our behavior should conform (ie divine law, however you conceive it).

In a way, I suppose he is right. Absent any concept of divine law (however you see it as descending, just any theory of objective teleology, some theory of ought), evil as a cognitive category does effectively cease to exist. It no longer becomes a coherent descriptor. We don’t talk about animals being evil. They do what they feel they need to do, what works, what is necessary, what they wish, without any theoretical consideration if what they ought to do because of a theory about the nature and teleology of their existence.

Unfortunately, expunging evil as a cognitive category by eliminating religion wouldn’t actually alter our experiences or history, any more than deciding God doesn’t, in fact, exist, removes the fact of all the evils that happened despite his not existing. We may have come up with a good theory for removing the idea and definitions of good and evil, but not the human facts to which those categories pertain. The idea that “good” will somehow “persist” or even have much meaning as concept outside an individual theory of what it is and what it means is, indeed, optimistic.

In practice, good will persist, as will evil, whatever changes you declare must be made to human ideology. As they have persisted across so many times and cultures and religions, whether the gods they espoused existed or were forgotten. Whatever your metaphysical beliefs, God, good, and evil are not removable cognitive categories from human cognition. You can redefine them according to your personal theory about them, you can alter them, paint them, dress them up, deny them, enshrine them, qualify them, explain them, practice them, love them, hate them, embrace them, or reject them. But you can’t remove them.

In a way Dawkins’ contention is true. The existence of the cognitive category of religion, of a definite nature to man and to the world, a theory of teleology arising from our ability to use choice to respond to it, and an attendant moral calculus we use in addressing and assessing how we navigate it, are in fact responsible for the categories we call human good and human evil. They arise from it by necessity.

Unfortunately, you cannot remove religion and expect either good or evil to persist as categories. Removing the part of us that we call religion would be to abolish humanity itself and cast us back into the premoral darkness of animal instinct and action. You would have to remove our knowledge and agency. You would have to un-eat the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil. Understanding and agency are what produce the cognitive concept of religion, what make it possible. And although you may succeed at dispelling and pulling down the house of some individual gods, especially those poorly or weakly described, you cannot pull down the category of God itself, religion per se, without pulling humanity itself down on top of you, Samson-like. Those twin pillars support the roof of human goodness and achievement, as well as conceal (or perhaps reveal?) the dungeon of human evil and suffering.

You might, I suppose, challenge how the idea of God is represented to people, how they choose to concieve of and relate to its precepts and concepts and exigencies. That’s more akin to finding different or better artistic representations for an idea than it is an alteration of the idea itself. You’re changing the words but not the grammar, the literary figures but not the archetypes. However methods of representation may change to present an idea in fresh and relevant ways for different people and different times and cultures, the underlying subject (of religion itself) remains the same yesterday, today, and forever.

People care about what the world is. They care about what people are. They care about what they could do. And they care about what they out to do. Religion, much like science, is the result of long periods of experience among humans yielding a working theory that helps answer those theoretical questions, as well as a practical. Science may be a method, but its work and the mechanisms that make it possible (experience, theory, intention, agency, motivated goals) are shared with religion.

You can’t have a functional informational system absent values and goals. And the effective scale of your informational system is directly dependent on and directly related to the scale of your value system. This isn’t just a fact of human psychology, it’s a problem even for fields like artificial intelligence and robotics. In a world of massive potential undifferentiated input, filtering according to goals is necessary for the structuring of input, long before one even comes to the question of output.

Small, simple forms of life have very limited value systems, and their informational systems are tailored appropriately to match and serve the understanding (such as it is) and execution of those goals. Life, being defined fundamentally by purposiveness and information, can be identified and described at its most basic levels of mere stimulus and response, and the biological mechanisms that engage in gathering the relevant information and responding to it to fulfill its inherent purposes.

As we move up the ladder of complexity, we find larger and more complex structures of purpose, and larger and more complex informational systems, and larger and more complex biological systems (and eventually superbiological, trans-individual, trans-temporal systems) to manage all that business. In the human animal, we find layer on top of layer on top of layer of complexity, different systems maintaining different functions so the whole collection of systems can be maintained, enormous amounts of information being stored and processed on a basic biological level.

And in the human brain we find ever more complex and sophisticated biological mechanisms supporting ever more complex informational systems devoted to ever more complex purposes. A fairly simple (comparatively, in fact enormously complex by our standards, but not by nature’s) mechanism, with an even more complex mechanism layered on top of that, with an insanely complex machine on top of that, with something so complex on top of that it isn’t even recognizable as a mechanism any more, passing the boundaries of our understanding).

Figuring out which way is the right way round to look at the whole process has been a tricky matter. All three elements exist: purpose, information, mechanism. But in what way they can be said to exist and how they are embodied and how they interact is very tricky to concieve of. The physical sciences have been largely concerned with the mechanisms. But from the perspective of lived human experience throughout history, we have largely been concerned with the other two.

At the same time, unlocking the mysteries of one (as much as we have) hasn’t sufficed to eliminate or relieve us from the problem of the other two, which remain the principal objects of human attention and effort once the basic proper functioning of the mechanisms has been provided for. Health is a wonderful thing to have, but only a coherent concept insofar as we understand that there is some state of how things ought to be, some purpose that is served, toward which health enables us. We don’t talk about healthy rocks, because rocks have no particular goals toward which their structure is either succeeding or failing to succeed at advancing them.

Going back to the matter of informational systems, religions, particularly the expansive, sophisticated religions of certain ancients such as the Hebrews served to expand our informational systems. They created the systems that make our modern life and knowledge possible. By setting the world itself, and all the complex behavior of expanding, interacting, and also individual humanity, as a consistent and intelligible system able to be studied and understood and acted upon, as its object, the philosophies of the Greeks and Hebrews altered our world. By centering around an expansive concept of purpose, they developed an expansive system of information to service that concept. And by collecting that information they were able to develop and refine the mechanisms that today support our vastly expanded biological community and complexity.

Their idea of God set the standard of universal conceptual purpose as something almost infinitely high and deep and far reaching, running from the highest extent within and even outside time down to the smallest human affairs. And it affirmed the ideas of intelligibility, that we could know God (the nature of being, of goodness), and agency, that we could effect to pursue or not pursue him (the nature of being and goodness).

The Hebrews found ways to represent this vast truth to themselves, but unlike many other cultures were very cautious not to fall too in love with the representations, in case they might be mistaken for the reality itself and thus the reality be maligned by being confined to something so small and finite and temporal. Thus the many strictures against idolatry and the making of graven images, inadequate pictures, the works of men’s hands. Thus the caution about even speaking the name of God, and the extremely curious nature of it. This is a supposedly unsophisticated, stupid, gullible ancient people who thought all kinds of dumb, superstitious things (which we would never do), who expressed the name of their god in something much closer to an abstract philosophical statement (I am that I am) than a personification of a big, bearded man in the sky.

Despite what Dawkin’s asserts, there are enormous reservoirs of knowledge, theory, and practice to be found in all religions, the ideas and projects that powered those civilizations. Thus there are wonderful things to discover in the representations of those theories and strategies in the religions of great civilizations like the Sumerians, Egyptians, Greeks, Norse, Nahuatl, Chinese, and so on. The amount of the world they tried to address and the success of their practicum in addressing the problems they encountered were very impressive. And among many of them it isn’t hard to discern common threads and conclusions about human experience, divided by time and distance as they may be. There are also some matters of serious debate and disagreement, as different as quantum theory is from string theory is from general relativity, as different as communism and capitalism.

All such systems that worked well enough as maps to ensure the survival of their peoples have some value, and those maps that succeeded in providing great advantages even in varied and difficult circumstances are particularly worth looking at. Consistency and scalability are also important. How well does a complex theory of being integrate the numerous complex systems that make up human life and concern? How much is it able to be applied to new situations and new problems and new information? Is there some important dimension of life that it ignores?

I’ve talked elsewhere about what the line between a philosophy and a religion is. And it’s largely a matter of scale and representation, more like the difference between towns and cities or clans and countries than anything else. There isn’t any hard qualitative barrier of content between them. The questions to ask are, how does this system of thought represent itself to us, and to what degree has it developed to address, integrate, and be expressed in all the various dimensions of human life? There are many philosophies that are essentially indistinguishable from religions, and in fact the larger and more developed and expressed a philosophy becomes, the more it begins to cross that threshold of critical mass.

As an idea develops and becomes more and more seated as an essential element for understanding and navigating the universe, it attracts all the different kinds of people with all the different concerns and talents to develop expressions to carry that idea into that realm of life. As humans are very visual and very narrative-driven, this will likely mean the development of works of art and stories to help represent the idea and its practicum to the people.

It has been said that all speech is political. And although I don’t agree with all the assumptions and implications of such a view, I would argue that all fiction is mythological. All stories we tell are an attempt to boil life down to a coherent vision of or interpretation of life and action in the world, and to represent some part of that vision to ourselves. Scrape away the surface level sufficiently, and the archetypes will emerge, the connections to the universal experience we all share and struggle with.

The most skillful stories will embody those concepts and strategies and lay them onto life in such a way that seems real and tangible and authentic and alive to us. They will seem almost like something real and alive, to have captured the animus of the conceptual purpose behind human reality, a spirit that touches our own. We will see our own lives lived in something that is in actuality merely a representation, and we will attempt to live our lives more authentically within the spirit of that representation.

Perhaps this represents too haunted a universe for some people’s tastes. But, from the perspective of humans, it seems hard to avoid such a haunted universe. The world is haunted by a strange and bizzare spirit, and that spirit is life itself, in all its bizzare and various forms, not least of which is ourselves. Purpose and information, structure and intention haunt the physical universe like boogeyman between the walls of reality. We aren’t even sure how they fit in to such a place, only that they seem to be.

None of all of this is a direct argument that religion, as such, is merely a construct of invention and isn’t, in the colloquial sense, real or true. Our understanding of and articulation of and communication of a religion is an entirely different question from the ontological status of the reality that underlies its assertions. Religion is, in some sense, exactly the purest example of a human institution. It’s fundamentally human. So fundamental that it can be found nowhere else in the universe, nor, were you to try to remove or correct for it, could you do so without removing humanity itself. But as human as religion is, it’s objects are not themselves purely human. They are fundamental objects of human concern, but are not themselves human objects.

It might be the case that different religions have different effects on the mode of being of those who follow them precisely because they more or less accurately reflect the underlying reality of the world and human experience and the proper mode for human being. That certainly seems to be the contention religions make. Maybe there’s something in it all. And if there isn’t, it’s not clear that there’s really anything else that were doing. This seems to be our primary, unique contribution to the world, the thing we bring to existence. If the pursuit of religion is no longer to be an essential part of human activity, it is not clear what our remaining activity will be, or how it could be understood as human, of why we would need humans for whatever remainder endured.

The fear of God and wisdom

The fear of God is the beginning of wisdom means that being wise is about being afraid of the right things.

This is a fact of such broad applicability that it’s impossible to know what else to say about it. It applies in every possible area of life. There are always things to be afraid of, there is nothing that doesn’t come with an attendant risk. There is nothing worth having or doing that couldnt go wrong and doesn’t carry some cost. The great skill, the differentiator of wisdom, is knowing which things are the right things to be afraid of. Such knowledge requires a much deeper understanding of the fundamental structure of life and value and the effects of time and action than many people possess. The idea of the fool is the idea of someone who doesn’t realize what dangers he is actually confronting and should be worried about.

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Justice (part 2)

What is it about this incorrect idea of justice that is correct? Because Marx wasn’t on to nothing. There is a sense of injustice that he and others like him were attempting to correct. We’ve just shown, and history has also shown, that despite its best intentions, when used as a guiding, defining moral calculus, that it’s actually counterproductive. Counterproductive by necessity. That’s a big hurdle to get over.

But there is a problem there we are grasping at. And it needs to be taken into account. The tendency of unequal outcomes, as well as the further tendency of the competitive structure to become oppressive and heartless and even tyrannical. It is hard that life presents us with such variances to deal with, when we would wish them to be otherwise.

Psychologically and practically, the best thing might be to accept them and figure out how to work within them. But insofar as we can alter them of their affects for ourselves and for others, how much is an appropriate amount to focus on such things? What obstacles are unnecessary and can and should be removed? What effects and results can and should be removed? Understanding that the removal of even whole classes of obstacles does not guarantee success or preclude failure.

Clearly its an instinctive moral instinct to be upset at this kind of injustice. Or maybe it is even natural to be upset at this kind of justice? It is a category of suffering, it is an area for potential improvement. It’s just not the sort of thing you can go all in on without actually making things worse. Competition is harsh, and it does create losers. But it also develops winners, it forces adaptation that makes winning possible (which in turn create comparative disadvantages that discourage losing strategies). And since the primary tendency of life, which is harsh, complicated, and challenging, is to produce losers, not winners, then the competitive structure is actually a necessary institution. It’s good for us in the deepest, most important ways.

Unfortunately, because of how the world works and how people works, there are going to be a lot of bad results on the level of surface conditions, on the way to producing survival and winners, both in terms of the situations people are in, what they have to deal with in the world, what obstacles they face in themselves, and a whole lot of sub-optinal outcomes. None of these are moral evils, per se, they don’t count against the value of the people. But they still represent an enormous negative practical impact on our lives.

Of course some people might argue that the race is over. We won. Adaptation, growth, the struggle to survive, all that is over. We’ve achieved security and mastered the challenges of life. We no longer need the kind of harsh survival strategies that once served us. In today’s world, they’re unnecessary, even a liability. We can now relax and just enjoy ourselves. Be free from the terror of the competitive structure and struggle, and just enjoy ourselves. And since pursuing our own selves is our new luxurious goal, we don’t need all those other oppressive structures. Our security and freedom in the expression of our identity and pursuit of iursoeevs and our own fulfillment and pleasure is all we require to be happy now.

That, I think, is the vision. We grew beyond the need for God, or evolution, or what have you. And the new God is revealed, and it’s ourselves. We don’t need the power of old religions or ideologies or cultures to support us or direct us or restrict us. As Elsa sang in Frozen 2, “I am the one I’ve been waiting for all my life.” That’s a mythology for the modern child. A dream to pursue.

I suppose the only problematic question is, is that enough? Are we really so secure? Have we got the universe so much by the tail as all that? And is the fulfillment of ourselves in ourselves really enough to make us happy? Is our mastubatory fantasy world fulfilling enough to sustain the life of humanity? I suppose that’s a bit like asking whether pornography is sufficient for the continuation of the human race.

Part of the problem with declaring equality of outcomes, and why it ends so poorly, is that it removes the natural feedback mechanisms that’s humans need to navigate and discriminate between possible choices and futures. If you assume that all possible choices and futures are equivalent, then that’s fine. But if you are in any way wrong about that key assertion, you’re literally blinding people and taking away their only means to discovering how to avoid worse outcomes and secure good outcomes. In fact, acting as if walking in any given direction will by necessity result in equivalent outcomes is far more likely to result in an increase of actual disparate outcomes (or at least an increase in bad ones) than it is to result in either uniformity of outcomes or (especially) uniformity of good outcomes. This is the sort of experiment that can easily be conducted in any ordinary natural space with a large group of people simply by observing what actually happens. I’m sure there is a counter experiment you could run to point out the problems with and advantages of a traditional competitive approach that doesn’t make such assumptions, but it seems a bit silly to imagine something so obvious and sensible. People will not arrive equally at the goal, because of where in the terrain they are placed and their own capabilities. But a lot more people will actually ultimately arrive. And that seems to be the lesson of economic history, as well.

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What kind of justice should we seek?

There is a problem with justice, in that because the world is what it is and because people are what they are, you can’t get both kinds of justice that people seem to want. People think everyone should have a fair, as in equally advantageous, shot at success. Each person should have as much of a chance to make a go of things, regardless of who they are. At the same time, people want justice of outcomes. They want good, hard work to be rewarded. And they don’t like seeing laziness and carelessness being rewarded. They want people to get out what they put in. The problem is, the world defies us constantly in both these areas. The world is uneven. People are uneven. People don’t always have the same abilities and characteristics and potential, and the places they live do not all have the same characteristics or potential either, and the two may be matched unevenly too, with some people well suited for their circumstances and others suited very poorly.

So the world is constantly fighting us. So we have to come up with some sort of guide to determine what we can change and what we can’t and where the obstacles lie. Do they lie with the environment, or with our own abilities? With how we are matched to our environment? With the effort we are putting in? Humans are curious creatures because they have a certain amount of choice in how they respond to their environment. They may not be able to choose themselves or their environment (to begin with), but they can decide how to respond to them, and in the process actually begin to change both. Animals don’t sit around chewing their cud, thinking “I would rather be at the opera”. They do what their instincts tell them they must. When a baby albatross falls off its nest and its parent stands there, unable to recognize them unless they can get back on, neither the parent nor the chick is silently wondering whether perhaps it would be advantageous to behave otherwise.

So what kind of expectation for justice should we have? What kind of measure should we pursue? It’s painful to us to recognize that there are serious disadvantages that many of us will face in which we had no choice in determining. And perhaps this thought, that life is uneven and has a mixed texture where people and places and situations are all so different, offends us so greatly that we reject the results as inherently unjust. All humans in all places should have an equal chance. Everyone should be capable of reaching equal shares of success.

The problem with seeking equality of outcomes in that, if it is not in fact the case that equality of success is the natural result of a life free of interference, then all your efforts to flatten the outcomes essentially amount to an averaging of outcomes. Excessive success is artificial and must be restrained, its excess results redistributed to those whose success, by some some artificial interference, has underperformed. You flatten out the results and declare that to be justice. Because justice means everyone has an equal right to equal outcomes, free from interference.

But let’s just assume for one moment that there is some possibility that not all potentials for success are fundamentally equal, and as well that not all efforts toward success are equal. More than that, they are not guaranteed. That the natural drift of any individual effort is not success, but failure, the natural tendency of any system is toward chaos, not order. In other words, what if it’s easier to fail than it is to succeed? What if it’s easier to miss the mark than it is to hit it? If that’s the case, if effort and aim really do matter, then applying a law of averaging will have an enormous deleterious effect. Because instead of correcting what you thought was a problem of distribution (the natural production of success not being evenly distributed), you are actually be dealing with a problem of production (meaning you’re really forcing the natural production of failure to be evenly distributed).

If it’s failure, missing the mark, that is the default position, that is what is to be taken for granted, any system that sets its metric and expectation on a completely even distribution of results will not in fact result in the natural arrival of utopia. You won’t democratize success, you’ll democratize failure. And this end result will actually be worse, overall, for the human condition than the inequality of each person being confined to only that success that is available to them, considering who they are, how they are placed, and how they respond to those varying challenges.

This really is a problem of math and what your assumed values are upon which your calculations are based. And I’m somehow not managing to capture it quite properly. There is a calculus we are all making with regard to outcomes. But our assumptions about what will actually drive the best outcomes depend very much upon the underlying values that power the whole system. And if we’re wrong in our assumptions about those, we won’t make the right call. I’ve often wondered why it is that an uneven, competitive system where each has to shoulder their own individual load and leverage their own individual advantages should be the best possible system. I think it is, in fact, apparent that it is. If only because it seems to be the system forced upon us. It might seem nice if there were some other mode of being. But I don’t think you could solve that problem without removing two very important and essential things about humanity: individuality and choice. We are each of us different. We are each a particular, individual type of person, in a specific and individual place and a specific and individual time. That is who we are. And that is a wonderful if painful burden. And we all have choice. We can actually make choices that embrace or work with or work against or ignore who we are and where we are, that can change who we are and where we are and alter our future destiny, simply because we are aware of it and aware of the possibilities in a way no other creature is. And that also is a terrible burden.

The envisioned solution that does away with those burdens is, in my opinion, a rejection of being itself as fundamentally unjust. But that kind of rejection is a rejection of life itself. And any solution that attempts to create justice by denying individuality and choice is doing far more violence to humanity and creating more injustice than the system you were trying to fix. And it’s not, in any case, in any way clear that such an attempt is even possible, that we can remove individuality and choice, that we can declare it a rule that all outcomes should be equal. Can such a declaration, and such an alteration of humanity, even for the best reasons, be wise?

Looking at the world, even just the way the natural world works, can be tragic and disturbing for many. How many turtle eggs must be laid just so one turtle can live to come back to that beach? How much effort goes into the hatching of a hundred thousand mayflies, just so they can spend an hour above the river before falling into the water, dead, their lives and purpose spent? It can take as many as a thousand sea turtles to begin the race of life to produce a single adult who makes it across the finish line to adulthood to continue the species. So if that fact disturbed me and I decided to solve it by declaring that equality of outcomes must be distributed, then what actual outcome is most likely, indeed necessarily, going to be be distributed among all of them? If the fundamental trend, the factual main chance, the easiest outcome, is death, then applying equality of outcome to all will result in the distribution of death to all. One ten thousandth of a life won’t go very far in lifting up the average wellbeing of all those turtles.

The assumption that every turtle born on a beach will just, by the provision of nature, all grow up to an equal adulthood and return to the beach is a fundamentally childish notion. It is the notion of an infant who has been sucked at the teat of its mother and hasn’t been weaned into a world where all the good things of life are not simply provided for you by a cosmic concierge. It is the fantasy that hamburgers simply spring unbidden from restaurant plates to be eaten, that money grows from wallets, that life is a written check you’re just showing up to collect. And it’s easy to see why we might think that, we who are the inheritors of so much. All that accumulated wealth and security and safety and infrastructure assembled through long, long ages that we weren’t around to build or collect, that was just waiting for us when we showed up. The care of a doting mother waiting to receive us. No wonder we take it for granted. No wonder we complain if some of us seem to have got a larger or smaller share of it. And how soon we will spend it and lose it if we do not recognize our own role in preserving and producing it.

It is little wonder that someone like Marx articulated such a vision of the world that takes so much for granted and seeks only to solve the problem of distribution. Marx himself was from a wealthy family and lived all his life off his inheritances and the work of others. The money he received from his family and from his friends like Engels was quickly spent, without having altered in any way his ability to provide for himself. Getting his share of it was a constant concern. He saw the world as he saw his own life. There were stable resources, fountains of wealth he took for granted, and his only problem was how to get his deserved part of them. But when he got his hands on them, in actual life, as in the outworkings of his philosophy, those fountains dried up, because he did nothing to sustain them but assumed that they simply generated themselves by nature. So soon his funds were gone and he would need to be bailed out again. And he no doubt felt it very unjust that capitalism should fail him so by failing to recognize his just dessert and properly reward him with money and comfort for his genius. And haven’t we all felt that way? I surely know I have. But blaming capitalism in this case is a bit like blaming the world and wishing it to be otherwise, or even trying to make it otherwise, like a god reinventing the terms for life itself. And if there is anything that our individuality and ability to choose shows us, it’s that we can, indeed change the world, and ourselves. But not individuality and choice themselves, and their consequences. Those we cannot change, because those are the unique things about us that make change possible. And you cannot achieve justice, you cannot achieve bettering of outcomes, by removing or denying the very things that make justice and bettering of outcomes possible.

And that is the solution. That is why a system based on demanding equality of outcome cannot be just and cannot be better than the system and mode of being we have. Because it is only by virtue of the features that make equality of outcome impossible (individuality and choice) that we are able to have positive outcomes at all. So if we attempt to average the results of a system that has been corrected for individuality and choice, the end result for everyone will be worse.

You cannot solve these problems of injustice without correcting for individuality and choice, and you can’t correct for individuality and choice without destroying your ability to solve the problem (or creating new, worse problems, and again it’s not clear whether you even can actually correct for individuality and choice). So the approach to life that socialism represents, enforced equality of outcome, cannot be achieved. And as hard and unfair as life and its current mode of being might be, there isn’t a better system for navigating it than striving and competition in a way that accepts the burdens of choice and individuality.

So where does this leave us? We cannot fully solve the problem of human suffering and injustice without correcting for choice and individuality. We cannot have good outcomes without allowing the possibility of missing the mark. In other words, sin (which means missing the mark) or at least the possibility of sin, is necessary. You can’t build a world that contains good without creating a world in which evil might occur. It’s an economic, logical, and mathematical necessity. I’m fact the great question we’re left with is, how is any good possible? How is any order, any success possible in such a universe.

I’m reminded of a very amusing list of facts about the universe from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. That because the size of the universe is so vast, and there are only a limited number of inhabited worlds in it, then the average population of any space in that universe is essentially zero. Therefore, if the average population density of the universe is zero, then the population of the universe itself is zero. It’s a silly argument, meant to be absurd. But it makes a point worth thinking about. If what the universe is can be said to be, on average, nothing, then any approach to it based on admitting only consistent averages (a universe of equality and justice and equal value) will result in a total of nothing. You cannot measure the sort of place the universe is according to that sort of system.

In a way, it is collossaly unfair. But that unfairness is what gives us all our individuality, our efficacy, our responsibility, our chance.

What kind of system might be possible, then? If a universe of equal beginnings, equal ends, and equal means to reach them cannot exist?

What is an appropriate measure for justice? It cannot be a simple calculation. That is the main thing we’ve learned. Justice is multi-dimensional and hard for humans to calculate, especially at the level of cosmic ultimate ends. Judging by outcomes is the most obvious way to judge justice, but also the least insightful. That doesn’t mean it isn’t useful or necessary to look at outcomes, in fact they’re incredibly important. But in judging morality, character, and justice, they’re the beginning rather than the end of the calculation. That good outcome might have been the result of luck. That bad outcome might have been luck, also. That mediocre outcome might have been made as good as it was by special effort and care on the part of the person. That other mediocre outcome might have been made as weak as it was because of a special lack of care and effort on the part of the person.

Insofar as we can, it’s in our interest to try to make whatever opportunities we can as equal as we can. Equal with respect to them being equally available to anyone who is sufficiently capable of taking advantage of them. All things that are turtles should be able to take the journey toward adult turtlehood. But it must be understood that all those turtles have a right to fail, so that some of them can succeed. We might want to make it easier for more of every set of competitors to succeed. But we have to be very careful, because the moment you attempt to rig the outcomes by redistributing them, by attempting to alter the fundamental variability of the conditions and the racers, you’ve thrown a monkey wrench in the whole concept of what makes the race work.

I think part of the problem is the lack of individuation in the measure for success. Because not everybody can start in the same place and not everybody can end in the same place and not everybody can run the same sort of race, the judgment of cosmic justice in a life isn’t an easy calculation. It doesn’t reside on the surface. It involves insight into each human life, each human heart. It requires eyes that transcend the scope of human vision.

The true calculation of cosmic justice isn’t about an arbitrary finish line or measure for success or some expectation of what every person should have achieved in some cosmic moral sense, either what every person could reasonably expect the universe to provide or what could be reasonably expected of every person. Those aren’t stable values. Instead, the true measure of cosmic justice and moral value is a judgment based on what each person did with what they were given.

Because demanded equality of outcomes isn’t possible, you can work backward from that to show that equality of starting points isn’t a sure measure of justice either. No one has a right to as good a chance at X outcome as anyone else. What they do have a right to is an equal chance to as good of an outcome as is possible for them, considering who and where they are and come from. It is not justice to demand that I should have an equal chance at becoming a star basketball player as Kobe Bryant, who is a full foot taller than me. It is not justice to demand that I should have an equal chance at becoming a famous composer as Mozart. The qualities that made them able to achieve those results, which are rare, rare results in the scheme of history, not at all the typical expected assumed outcome, are not evenly distributed. We’re individuals. I have things about me that make me able to do the things I can do. They have things about them that make them able to do the things they can do. It is reasonable that, as much as is possible, I should have be able to make of myself as great a composer or as great a basketball player as I could be, given my individual nature. But that chance might actually be pretty small, since the average chance for all humans of achieving those results is pretty small. And I could devote myself to basketball or music and maybe even become fairly decent. Who knows what I might be able to achieve. And there’s nothing really stopping me, I do have that freedom. So as far as that goes, justice is satisfied, even though I will probably not actually get what my childish idea of justice might have been, that of getting to be a world famous basketball player or composer.

It is a child who looks at the world and doesn’t understand it and doesn’t yet understand their own individual nature and place in the world that looks at life shallowly and wonders “Why can’t I have that? It’s not fair!” And it’s not always easy to answer those sorts of complaints from a child. Often my daughter makes those complaints any time anyone has anything she wants. She could have just chosen a giant triple scoop of ice cream, then see someone else who got a cookie as a treat, and complain that it was possible to get a cookie, and that’s not fair, because she wants that. The problem we’re having isn’t that it is fair or unfair to get a cookie or to get an ice cream, it’s that the concept she’s expressing isn’t what fairness is. She wants to be more than herself. She wants to be that person also and have their individuation as well as her own. She doesn’t want to be limited by choice or capacity or singularity. And who does? And many of our fantasies revolve around sudden turns of fate that would redefine what is available to us. But even if such twists and turns of fate did alter our possibilities, hopefully for the better, that still wouldn’t be a moral fact. It wouldn’t be justice for have one situation over another. There is nothing more inherently just or unjust about ending up with a cookie or an ice cream. Justice might be measured in the processes that got you to the point of receiving either. But the moral value between the two outcomes is indeterminate.

I think part of our problem these days is in having access to too high and broad a standard for what success could be. We’ve seen some examples of insane success, and our ambition rises right to that level. Why shouldn’t I have that? We see it before us, so it seems reasonable enough to expect it. And the more we see that sort of exceptional thing before us, the more we expect it. Does that actually help us develop justice or our own moral value? Hungering after someone else’s results? We don’t even know if it’s just for them to have them, or if they actually have moral value in themselves that produced it. They certainly might. It’s not easy to tell at a glance. And you can’t easily answer why you couldn’t be like them without facing the actual ontological problem of why you couldn’t be them. You aren’t them. You’re you. And them is an individual, not merely an outcome. That’s their story. You’re stuck writing your story. Even if you want to try to change it to make it similar to theirs, you can only do it by going through the medium of your own story. It will still be your story. And that’s going to be a challenge, that’s your burden to bear. And that’s your glory and the wonder of it and pride of it too. You can ultimately only be judged according to your own story and what you did with it. And that is the difference between conscience and mere ambition. Ambition tells you what you want or want to become, what outcomes you desire. Conscience is the true inner judgment of to what degree you have steered your story appropriately to reach those ends. Ambition judges the ending of the story. Conscience judges the writing.

And ultimately for human value, in the sort of world we’re in, and for the production of good outcomes, the best way to get them is to focus on this type of justice and this type of moral value. Because the main problem with success is not distribution, but production. So the absolutely most important value to cultivate is the capacity to produce good, regardless of variability of conditions, abilities, and the uneven nature of actual outcomes (since even good plans and good work sometimes deliver less than they should). And anything that actively endangers and subverts that capacity, even in the interest of good outcomes, is itself a potential danger to those outcomes. In other words, any attempt to jury rig the system to always give you what you want is at least somewhat likely to give you less of what you want, on average. Which is a very confounding and annoying thing to observe.

This is a problem I face daily with my children. If I attempt to always make sure everything goes right for them, I will actively deprive them of the capacities they need to be able to actively make things right. I will be depriving them of the opportunity for choice and to develop as an individual. I might produce, in the short term, more justice of outcomes, in terms of what I want, but will reduce their capacity to produce justice in themselves. And since life is uneven and I’m not infinite or omnipotent, and at some point they not only will have to deal with making good out of a situation themselves but also with how to make the best of a bad situation (and as common as it is, we all need the capacity to face suffering and defeat), if I deprive them of those capacities I am not actually helping them at all. I might imagine that value and meaning in life is merely a measure of how many arbitrary good things are provided for them, how nice life happened to be. In which case I’m merely measuring their life by the things rhat happen to accumulate around them, many of which are merely a product of chance. And that’s not meaning, that’s not value, that’s not justice. That’s a shallow conception of a life that could as easily have happened for a pig as for a human. Humanity isn’t even required for such a conception of a good life. Individuality and choice are meaningless. You sink back to the non-moral realm of the animals, without any higher sense of meaning or justice. Such questions become meaningless.

The amazing things about being human is not merely awareness of life, which most all animals have, but awareness of this life, this particular individual life in this time and this place, in contrast to other possible present lives, and in relation to what this life could or could not become. We see that we have this particular life, this individual being, this time, these possibilities, this potential, these desires, this opportunity to make either this or that future more or less likely, more or less good or bad, more or less bearable. Being an individual, being limited and specific, but having choice, having efficacy to alter the present and future within the limits of those specific bounds, and to be judged according to that unique ability that is ours and attains to us alone, that is what it is to be human. It is our right, our damnation, and our glory to be judged according to a measure that no other thing we know of in the universe can be judged by. The meaning and value of a human life, the moral choices that we get to make. Made moral precisely by the fact that we are able to conceptualize and realize individual, specific, distinct states and to cause different possible such states to come into being by our volition.

What an amazing ability! We have discovered the future, the past, the present, ourselves. And what power it has given us. Not only over ourselves, but through ourselves over the world and over others. And that makes it even more complicated. Those are the three primary ingredients that make up the phenomenal world. Three kinds of things. And we can gain power over all of them, merely by becoming aware of choice and individuality. At the same time, we are subject to their power over us. It isn’t a closed system. It isn’t a one way relationship. And that raises the stakes and the level of moral complexity even more. The system is dynamic. There is feedback.

I was interested to read recently about the problem of the human brain and how it is designed. The problem is, it’s structure is so complex that there really isn’t anything in the physical world to compare it to. It’s so enormously complex, there isn’t really any means to possibly store a sufficient amount of data to lay out its designs. And yet we have brains, and they develop according to a very specific and complex design. The sheer scale of complexity is hard to imagine, but comparing one second of human neural activity to the equivalent complexity of every computer on earth running simultaneously in parallel isn’t a bad comparison. At the moment, the technology does not exist to accurately model even one second of human brain activity. And DNA is an almost miraculous information storage device. Fitted into a space so small you couldn’t even see it with your eye is a book so long and complex that if you laid all the DNA in your body end to end it would cross the width of the solar system. Twice. And yet all that storage can’t come close enough to fitting enough information to actually give specific blueprints for something as complex as the brain. So how, then, do we have them? Well, there is still so much we don’t understand, but the solution is very clever. Rather than conceiving of the instructions for building a brain as actual instructions, a specific plan or blueprint, what we have instead is much more like a program. And the program knows how, by process, to build a brain. The basic structure seems to be laid out more directly. But the actual assembly isn’t done according to a plan, but according to a set of principles, or rules. Algorhythms. If this, then this. Feedback loops. Testing, result, action. Testing, result, action. This is why the brain is alive, why it can heal, why it can adapt. Some people have the most astounding things happen to their brains. Some have their brains compressed into a narrow shell of tissue over a void of fluid, and still manage to function reasonably well (considering 90% of the traditional brain structure just isn’t there). People born blind still use the same visual processing center of their brain when “reading” with braille as sighted people do when reading written words. From a neurological standpoint, they are “seeing” the words. We’re only just now beginning to get the slightest hunt of how complex the human brain really is (since most of our actual living tissue tests have been on rats, not humans) and we’re only just now beginning to see how it is put together. The way the human brain is assembled isn’t some static, planned process, like a car coming off the assembly line. In fact the human body as a whole isn’t built like that. It’s a process. It’s more like a custom car being built by an expert machinist. You’re crafted, sculpted, adapted. You’ve got 100,000 miles of blood vessels in every human body, going every which way you could imagine in a crowded space, and if they don’t go where they’re supposed to then that part doesn’t work. You’ve got a neural network around 60,000 miles long. And a single cut neuron could paralyze or kill you. That’s an unthinkable amount of complexity. Mapping and storing every bit of it in specific detail would be almost impossible. But we aren’t just the product of a design. We are, most literally, intelligently designed. We are assembled in an active process according to intelligent principles, processes, and adaptive programs. We are knit together, sinew by sinew. Maybe this is a purely tangential matter, but it seems that I see that same complexity of process reflected in the way that the human heart and mind and path through life are constructed. It’s not merely about some determined plan or designed end state that is laid out. It is something that is alive! It is a living process, a process of purpose and intelligence. We cannot control all the elements, cannot store enough information within us to determine all those elements, delineate all those twists and turns and proper outcomes. We cannot operate and judge according to mere formula. It is a living, adaptive, intelligent process. It’s wonder is in the beauty of how it builds itself, it’s virtue is in how excellent the principles are executed toward the purpose of its design. The most amazing thing about the whole process is the thing we cannot easily see, the program, the actor, the thing that determines the growth. The resulting systems are amazing, surely. The results of the process are amazing. But surely the thing that gave rise to such a result by its own creative action is the most astounding of all. That thing is, in a way, the abstract essence of humanity itself. It is not a human, it is humanity. An active essence, a spirit, that which gives us life and being and definition. And it isn’t just a specific person, and it isn’t simply a plan or representation of a person. It is something more like a principle or purpose or idea, an animus, a way to call that thing into being. A creative id. I’m throwing out ideas right now, hoping to get something to stick. Because I’m not sure what it is that I have by the tail. It’s something whose being is not exhausted by a description as mere information. Nor is its being exhausted merely by its end product in a specific example of its product, a body. It is something from the realm of the living. And by living I must refer you to my other writings on what the essence of life is. The essence of life is, in a sense, purpose. Teleology. And it is not quite clear in what sense or what realm such things exist, if they are not merely either specific material things or an immaterial symbolic value like information. They act, they alter, they test, they develop and grow (not themselves but their objects), they adapt, they design, they build, they create, they have purpose, and they are extremely effective. And when they cease, when they depart, the systems disintegrate into their material parts and live no longer. They seem almost to be a kind of spirit. Spirit, under this view, is not something unliving, but is itself the actual essence of life that in some way shapes and inhabits and is embodied by material bodies. Do they cease because they cannot command their materials any longer? Is the limit in the parts? Because sure, not being composed of the parts but drawing them into composure, they cannot themselves wear out. Any atom is as material as any other, and they were drawn together out of disorder into purpose. So why should that cease because of limitations in the material, for something that can actively and does actively draw material into itself constantly for the purpose of sustaining itself? We devour matter and energy constantly, cycling them through our system at different rates. We aren’t a static body, but a dynamic process of energy and transformation and the continual drawing in and releasing of matter and energy. Can it be that the information wears out? How can it? We start from a single cell, a single copy of the information, but that single copy is lost somewhere in our ancient biological past, as copy after copy after copy is assembled out of the matter at hand. DNA degradation (the loss of telomeres) seems to set a limit upon how many times our cells can be copied, running out at around 115 years. But if all life is dependent upon and limited by descent and degeneration from an original informational repository, then why hasn’t the whole human race died out long ago? Humanity is able to live on, seemingly perpetually. It’s essence does not die as the information ages. Instead it seems to be renewed continually. We are perfectly capable of making a repository of the necessary information that is quite durable enough to give structure and animation to a whole new embodiment at the drop of a hat. Men, in fact, do so on an hourly basis, crafting the information necessary anew out of assembled material elements. The limitation seems quite arbitrary, as if it were all designed to fail. Because it is clear from the ease of the ability for the spirit to inscribe and perpetuate the necessary information that the information itself is not the limiting factor, nor are the materials being used to embody the spirit the limiting factor, as they vary and change continually and were brought together and assembled from disorder to begin with, and are continually being so. The materials persist after the spirit goes. They do not cease to exist, though they return to disorder. The information of what humanity is does not cease to exist, or need not. It is passed on. It persists, so long as we are not extinct. So where and in what way does the spirit of humanity exist? Where does it come from, and where does it go? Does it arise from the information, or does the information arise from it? Is the information real in some concrete sense or is it real only insofar as it consists in a body that expresses it? And how can a symbolic bit of information make the move from whatever realm it exist in into the active shaping of a material body? Where does it cross over, if it does so at all? What is the idea of information, apart from the idea of intelligibility and purpose? And how can intelligibility and purpose be physical properties? Is being something that is distributed across multiple levels of embodiment? Being as living information, being as a living spirit, being as living embodiment. The idea, the activity, and the result? Have we got back to some kind of Platonic metaphysics? Is it a trinitarian concept of being? Is it merely a coincidence that the the two concepts seem to align? Does this mean that the concept of the trinity is not only coherent, but necessary? Or am I getting too analogical and letting my imaginstion run away with me? Sometimes a passing similarity can take on too great a significance.

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